In my dream of Christmas Yet to Come, I see a loving mother and I see our children. I see us in a church service together on a Christmas Eve.
I see bright and curious faces experiencing the wonder of something transcendent. I see two parents who love each other and are eager for their children to feel the wonder of something bigger than themselves — to feel the joy and love and connection of Christmas with people who know there is some mysterious power bigger than themselves, something which binds a community of people together through some wisp of spirit inside each heart.
I grew up in churches where the brain was more important than the heart. Nobody would have said it that way, but what mattered was doctrine and rational explanations, not experience or any powerful sense of wonder. We were vaguely disdainful of people who felt too much or expressed too much from the heart.
We quietly extinguished the transcendent from the sacred in most respects — and I believe we lost something important as a result.

Lennon had ‘wrong ambitions,’ but became cultural icon anyway
I’m exhausted and numb from placing trust in the wrong people
Trump’s rabid defenders selling their souls for a narcissistic liar
What does a man confess about himself when he wants a ‘slut’?
Double standards seem like the only standards most politicians know
Would you be glad or ashamed if others could read your thoughts?
Despite intentions, ‘net neutrality’ gives online control to politicians
Santa checked his list twice — and some of you’ve been naughty
What if a key to knowing what to do is built into everybody’s gut?