This past Christmas Eve was special for me and my family. It was an exceptionally peaceful, warm, and Scripture-filled night at Home Church Langley, a community church.
It marked the first church my wife and son had entered in Canada—and, remarkably, it has since become our church home in Vancouver. There, my wife met her first Canadian friends, and I met my first pastor.
From a Chinese perspective, Christmas in the West carries the same significance as the Spring Festival does in China. It matters to everyone, regardless of race or cultural background.
Like the Spring Festival, Christmas celebrations begin in the evening. At dusk, people arrived from all directions to the small church, drawn by the good news—God is with us.
Elderly people in formal attire, young people in down jackets, old neighbors, and new immigrants all gathered at this hour. At the church entrance, different languages mingled in soft conversation before everyone entered the sanctuary, where the cheerful atmosphere settled into peaceful silence as Pastor Jim began his brief sermon.
The midnight service on Christmas Eve forms the celebratory climax. Large cathedrals resound with the rich tones of pipe organs, evoking history itself, while smaller chapels fill with joyful worship music.
When the familiar melody of “Silent Night” begins, a sense of peaceful holiness fills the air—even for someone like me, who is not yet a Christian.
Cultural diversity defines Vancouver. During the service, brothers and sisters read the Bible in various languages. Even in my small community church, worship rang out in seven tongues—English, Korean, Hindi,
German, Spanish, and others. A refugee from Africa took the stage to read a passage of Scripture in an indigenous African language.
For believers at the crossroads of multiple cultures, this night’s ceremony becomes both a return to faith’s source and a moment to seek an anchor for the soul.
The candlelight ritual moved me most. A large altar candle was lit first; then its flame rippled outward, row by row, hand to hand, until everyone held their own light. In moments, the hall glowed with gently flickering, starlike points. In that soft light, faces appeared calm and serene; to me, Christian faith seemed profoundly warm and gentle.
As the ceremony drew to a close, the congregation wished one another “Merry Christmas” and “Happy New Year”. When the candles finally went out, everyone said their farewells and slowly stepped out into the cold, rainy night—the familiar drizzle of Vancouver. The inner peace they had received in the church—kindled by shared songs and candlelight—was the warmth they would carry back home.
Christmas at home differs greatly from church. At its centre stands a fully decorated tree, beneath which global traditions converge: German nutcrackers, Swedish straw goats, Chinese peace knots, and Indigenous woven ornaments—all side by side, quietly redefining “home.” Families gather to exchange gifts amid peace and joy.
My first Christmas in Vancouver was not white, but rainy. I felt that my wife had seen the True Light, and I myself began to learn to open my arms and embrace the people around me.
P.S. I am not yet a Christian, though I may become one someday. I volunteered to take photos at the church that Christmas Eve.
Leave a Reply