Christmas Morning Service

Derch dit see wie, waut Leew werkjlich es. Daut wia nich onse Leew fa Gott. Daut wia siene Leew fa ons, daut hee ons sienen Sän schekjt, ons de Sinden auftonämen.

- 1 Johanes 4:10

I’m grateful for each of you in this Advent season. We celebrate not a legend, but a real moment in history: God stepped into our world in Jesus to reconcile us to Himself. John 3:16 tells us the Father’s motive—love. That love does not sort people into “good” and “bad” lists. Our culture often swaps Jesus for Santa, turning Christmas into a reward-for-behavior story. But Jesus came for the ones on the “naughty” list—the lost, the sick, the ones who know they can’t fix themselves. God’s gift is not performance-based; it is grace-based, offered to all who believe.

Because love is a vast word, I drew from Luke 15, where Jesus shows what love looks like. A shepherd goes after one wandering sheep. A woman turns the house upside down for a lost coin. A father runs toward a ruined son, embraces him, clothes him, and throws a feast—not after he cleans up, but as he comes home. That’s the heart of the Father toward you. Nothing in all creation can separate us from His love. Yet God’s love is not indulgence; He disciplines those He loves. Like any wise parent who keeps a child out of the highway, the Lord’s correction is protection, shaping us into wholeness and peace.

How do we experience this love? Often through one another. Jesus commands us to love as He has loved us. Fellowship becomes a conduit of God’s affection, wisdom, and courage. But some of us have armored our hearts because of betrayal and pain. A hardened heart blocks pain—and love. The way back is a wise, guarded openness with trustworthy, Christ-honoring people, and most of all to Jesus Himself. He stands at the door and knocks. Open to Him, and the feast begins—new life, deep peace, and a love that will outlast every earthly gift.

Fräd - Pastor Peter Thiessen

Dan stunden bie dän eenen Enjel plazlich een grootet Schoof Enjel un lowden Gott un säden: Lot Gott em hechsten Himmel Iea kjrieen, un de Menschen opp de Ieed Fräd, dee, aun dee hee sien Jefaulen haft.

- Lukas 2:13-14

Oba de Enjel säd to de Hoad: Fercht junt nich! Horcht! Ekj brinj junt eene goode groote Freidens Norecht, wuatoo sikj aule Menschen freien woaren; junt es dise Nacht, en David siene Staut, de Heilant jebuaren, de Har, Christus.

- Lukas 2:10-11

I shared how Advent stirs up memories of childhood joy—family gathered, songs sung, simple gifts received—and how that joy points to something deeper and older: the joy announced in a field to ordinary shepherds. The angel’s words were clear: good news of great joy for all people. The details and timing of how people celebrate may vary, but the point has never changed. Joy arrived in Jesus. The shepherds heard, responded, went to see, and then shared. That is still the pattern: hear, respond personally, and then spread what we have seen and heard.

This joy is not vague optimism. It is tied to a Person. With Jesus, you receive joy; without Him, you miss the heart of it. He came with human limits, touched specific lives, then returned to the Father so the Holy Spirit could dwell in all who trust Him. That’s why joy can be personal today—because the Spirit makes it real in the heart. But it must be more than inviting Jesus to ride along while we keep heading the wrong direction. Many of us were told to “accept Jesus,” and we tried that without repentance. We kept driving the same road of sin and wondered why nothing changed. Joy begins when we surrender, make a U-turn, and follow Him as Lord.

I spoke from my own story of bondage, misery, and finally deliverance. When I turned around and followed Christ, joy came rushing in—joy in His presence, peace not like the world gives, a new life with new hope. Worldly joys fade—the new-car smell always goes. But joy rooted in Jesus endures because it flows from His peace and presence. To keep that joy burning, we keep putting logs on the fire: prayer, Scripture, worship, obedience. As we trust Him, the God of hope fills us with joy and peace, and that hope overflows by the Holy Spirit. That is the gift held out to each of us in this season: not a holiday mood, but a surrendered life filled with the joy of Christ.

Un aus siene Deensttiet äwa wia, jinkj hee trigj no Hus. Un boolt doaropp wort Elisabet schwanga un bleef dan fief Moonat fa sikj auleen un säd: Dit haft de Har fa mie en dise Tiet jedonen, un haft de Schaund, dee ekj ver de Menschen druach, von mie jenomen.

- Lukas 1:23-25

Advent is a holy pause between promises made and promises fulfilled. I invited us to resist the rush to arrive at Christmas too soon and instead to dwell in the hope, peace, joy, and love that mark this season of waiting. Isaiah 7 shows a king, Ahaz, who refuses God’s invitation to trust, yet God still gives a sign: a virgin will conceive, and his name will be Emmanuel—God with us. This hope is rooted in God’s covenant with David (2 Samuel 7) and blossoms in Jesus (Matthew 1), who steps into our real history and secures a future that is more certain than our fears.

Advent trains the heart to live in the “already and not yet”—to celebrate what Christ has accomplished and to long for what he will complete at his return. Jesus’ teaching on the faithful servant calls us to a readiness that is active but unhurried: giving food at the proper time, attending to ordinary faithfulness, and refusing the anxious, distracted life that crowds out love. This season is a gift that reorders our days so we can remember: God is with us, and God is coming to us.

I also urged us to disciple our young people (and ourselves) in an Advent-shaped vision of desire. Holiness is not merely a binary checkbox of clean/unclean; it is the stewardship of longing, the honoring of a gift within its covenant home, and the cultivation of anticipation without premature grasping. Even where innocence has been wounded, grace is stronger. Christ, the Bridegroom, washes his church with the word; his cross claims our failures and gives us a new future. Romans 8 reminds us that all creation groans for redemption—and so do we. Revelation 22 ends with the Spirit and the Bride saying, “Come.” That is our Advent prayer: Come, Lord Jesus. And in that prayer, we find courage for today and hope for tomorrow.