There is a kind of holy anticipation that settles into hearts every Christmas Eve—an energy that feels both reverent and joyful, quiet and alive all at once. It’s the joy of gathering again, year after year, to remember a story that never grows old. A story that still shines.

Each year, as the flame is passed from candle to candle, person to person, pew to pew. One small light becomes many. The room slowly fills with a warm glow, and for a moment, everything else fades away. No rushing. No noise. Just light, song, and wonder.

That simple act is a visual reminder of the miracle we celebrate: a God whose light cannot be contained. A God whose love spreads—not through force or spectacle, but through presence. Through humility. Through grace.

The light of Christ moves the same way it always has—quietly, faithfully, from one life to another. It reaches us where we are, then invites us to carry it forward. What begins as a single flame becomes a shared brightness, stronger together than alone.