104 Walnut Hollow Road, Lynchburg VA

Church #140 was a deeply meaningful visit to Trinity Episcopal Church on Walnut Hollow Road, a Christmas Eve candlelight service that was beautiful from the moment I stepped inside.

The service began the way Christmas Eve should, with praise rising gently into the atmosphere, with hearts turned toward heaven.

I was especially grateful for the care taken in preparing the bulletin, thoughtfully laid out so every person could follow along, participate fully, and feel included.

There is something profoundly comforting about holding the liturgy in your hands, knowing generations before us have prayed these same prayers, sung these same hymns, and trusting God to hear us.

Singing together in that beautiful old church, voices blending, candles flickering, felt like standing inside the story itself.

I love how Trinity Episcopal Church describes who they are: “We take Jesus seriously, but not ourselves.” That posture was evident in every detail.

This is a church where people are welcomed as they are. Children are not a distraction but a delight. Needs are met with care and dignity.

There is no dress code, no barrier to belonging, no sense that you must perform faith correctly to be accepted. The sacraments are open, participation is open, and so are hearts.

That openness reflects the very heart of Christ…

The sermon delivered by Reverend Gail Goldsmith met me exactly where I am. In the dimly lit sanctuary, surrounded by candlelight and quiet reverence, she reminded us of a truth I need to hear again and again…

We are all carrying so much but God is with us.

That phrase, God is with us, settled over my heart and stayed there.

The Bible tells us, “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (Matthew 1:23), which means God with us.

Not God who is far away. Not God waiting who is waiting for us to get it right. God with us, in the grief, in the uncertainty, in the exhaustion, in the quiet ache we don’t always have words for.

Man, this world sometimes feels overwhelmingly dark, and I am reminded again and again that Jesus is still our light. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).

That truth felt alive in that room, candle by candle, face by face.

It was a blessing to share in communion, to remember Christ’s body broken and blood poured out for love.

Communion is never just remembrance, amen, it is proclamation.

We proclaim that Christ has come, Christ has died, Christ is risen, and Christ will come again. In that momen tonight, I was reminded that no matter how heavy life feels, God has not left us alone.

Looking around at the smiling faces, all gathered to celebrate the birth of our Savior, I felt a deep gratitude for this journey, for the freedom to worship, for the communities God continues to place in my path, for the way He keeps reminding me that I am held. That we are held.

This Christmas Eve, I was reminded that hope did not arrive loudly. It arrived quietly. Wrapped in flesh. Laid in a manger. Carried into the world by love.

I am profoundly thankful for this journey, for the love of God, for this Christmas Eve night, and for the reminder that God is with us.

I am humbled.
I am grateful.
And I praise You, King Jesus.

I cannot wait to see where the Holy Spirit leads me next.

Merry Christmas Eve. Love you all.