"silent night, holy night
all is calm, all is bright
round yon virgin mother and child
holy infant, so tender and mild
sleep in heavenly peace"
years ago our house would be full of guests for christmas eve. my grandparents would be visiting from bellaire and chris would be in from pickerington for the night. to make room for the extra people, my brother would move into my room and sleep on the floor. one of my fondest christmas memories is laying in bed delaying sleep, staring at the ceiling singing silent night with my big brother, taking turns to create the coolest harmonies.
then there was the first time i ever heard my grandfather sing. although mom and dad tell me that he used to sing me czech lullabies to help me sleep, the first time i remember my grandpa singing was when i was in middle school. it was at our christmas eve worship service during silent night. the tender sweetness in his voice gave me chills. if i could have seen into his mind during that song, i think i would have seen childhood memories of singing carols with his many siblings in snowy st. joe, ohio.
tonight, as i sang the song for the millionth time, i couldn't help but marvel at the many changes over the years. sure, i was in the same church i had spent christmas eve most years of my life, but as much as time seemed to stand still, the faces around me told a different tale. the new faces sitting in the pews around me, the many old familiar faces that have gone missing over the years...the bible study mentors who left such a strong impact on my theological thought process, the youth group friends and their families who shared so many experiences, missionary george who taught me what it was like to be a servant leader, worship team leaders who challenged me to let the holy spirit out of the box, best friends who showed me unconditional love, family who now has families of their own, family who have died.
so many people were missing. so much has changed. and yet, the song is a constant. year after year we sing the verses and raise our lit candles in the air. for those few minutes, all truly is calm. babies who have screamed throughout the service are somehow hushed, noses that sniffled and sneezed are dry, hearts that have been hurting finally sense the hope that the newborn baby we sing of brings. for maybe the first time in the busy holiday season, we think not about what is missing in our lives, but about who just arrived.
i can't help but think of mercyme's lullaby told from joseph's point of view - "i believe the glory of heaven is lying in my arms tonight, but Lord i ask that He just for this moment simply be my child." this hope that we've all been waiting for, this knight in shining armor - He's here. but for now, he's just a child. for now, we must remain patient. for now, we cherish the still calm night, because it is only a matter of time before Jesus goes to work in us and through us to change the world.
