Snow's been falling for most of the day here, but it wasn't really all that cold for most of the day. I was a little concerned about driving in to the church building when I got up and looked around, so I delayed my departure while I got some other stuff done. By the time I got on the road, everything was fine. Though the snow was coming down steadily, it was warm enough that the well-travelled streets were wet, but not icy. Even later in the day, when I had to run errands and make a hospital visit, it was no problem getting around.
As soon as the sun went down, though, and the temperature cooled off (which was about the same time the wind started blowing), the roads that had been wet from melting snow turned (in some spots) to sheet ice. At one point, going down a gentle hill, I put on the brakes while the car didn't slow at all (despite the speedometer reading zero).
Yet in the midst of the accumulating snow, and the worsening weather conditions, a remarkable group of people gathered at Holy Love's sanctuary to sing of the light coming into the world. It seems counter-intuitive, to come out in bad weather to sit in a dimly-lit sanctuary with a couple dozen people singing songs and prayers and scripture together. It seems like it doesn't matter at all. It seems like there's no point. It seems like the proper response ought to be "why bother?" Sure, it might make one or two people feel a little better while they're there, and maybe even for a day or two, but still ... what's the point of the singing?
And then, after almost everyone had left, I had this realization: there's no point to the singing ~ the singing is the point. It's what we do every time we gather for worship, it's just more obvious on a night like tonight. In the face of snow and icy roads, we sing together. In the face of a tough economy, we sing together. In the face of grief and loss and death, we sing together. In the face of whatever we face, we sing, and in singing we remind ourselves and we remind everyone else that there is hope in the promise of a better future, hope even in the promise of a better now.
And so we sing.