One Holy Night

Christmas has been my favorite holiday since that day years ago when I read the ending of Two From Galilee by Marjorie Holmes. I was sixteen, and I was fascinated by her rendition of the love story of Joseph and Mary and the birth of Jesus Messiah. I had this epiphany moment when I closed the last page–these people were real! I had been a Christian for eight years, as I had given my heart to the Lord at age eight in my parent’s bedroom after reading the booklet My Heart, Christ’s Home. But it wasn’t until I read Holmes’s biblical novel that I fell in love with God’s Word.

I read Two From Galilee every Christmas after that for years. To this day, I cannot listen to certain carols or hear the verses of His birth without getting goosebumps. I can’t explain the feeling of homecoming, of joy that Jesus’ birth brings to me each year.

If you really think about it, how shocking and awe-inspiring is it that God became man? Why would He do that? Of course, if you’ve never heard the true story behind the glitz and glamour of the holiday we call Christmas, then I suggest you read about it here and here and here and here and here.

For those of us who know the story and believe, I wonder…do we truly know in our hearts that it’s not just a story, but rock solid truth? Do we believe that one holy night, a baby was born to change the world?

Nothing in history has ever been the same since Jesus came. He turned B.C. into A.D. Time itself is measured by His coming. He who was outside of time, entered our world to fix what we never could–reconciliation and fellowship with God His Father.

Christmas always gives me a sense of hope. It doesn’t matter if my circumstances are not what I’d like them to be. I can’t change what isn’t into what I hope will be one day. My sense of hope is in the promises God fulfilled in Jesus’ first coming and will yet fulfill in His second coming, which every day draws nearer.

When I was a teenager, I used to sing the occasional solo in our small church. My favorite song had to be transposed to a lower key as the song is simply too high for my voice. I wish I had the voice to sing it like I did back then, but I wouldn’t sing it in public now in any case.

The last time I sang it in front of a “crowd” was the last week of my dad’s life. I walked into his nursing home room with something from McDonald’s, his favorite haunt, though he could not eat the food like he used to. When I approached his bed, I noticed my mom sitting near his feet and the hospice nurse near his head. He looked at me. Normally, he would smile his welcome. This time he spoke and his words were insistent.

“Sing, ‘O Holy Night’,” he said.

“You want me to sing ‘O Holy Night?'” It was early November but his mind was already on Christmas?

The hospice nurse said she wasn’t going to sing it. I didn’t hesitate, so I began to sing,

O Holy Night

“O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth.
Long lay the world, in sin and error pining,
‘Til He appeared and the soul felt it’s worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees, Oh hear the angel voices!
O night divine! O night when Christ was born.
O night, O holy night, O night divine.”

I skipped the middle stanza, which is worth singing, mostly because I didn’t have it memorized, but finished with the last.

“Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is Love and His gospel is Peace;
Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother,
And in his name all oppression shall cease,
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful Chorus raise we;
Let all within us praise his Holy name!

Chorus
Christ is the Lord, then ever! ever praise we!
His pow’r and glory, evermore proclaim!
His pow’r and glory, evermore proclaim!”

A Hope that Lasts

Looking back, it doesn’t surprise me that my dad wanted this song sung to him before he went to meet his Savior. My dad came to faith at four years old. I remember when one of my sons wanted to ask Jesus into his heart at that age. I prayed with him, but I wondered if he was really old enough to understand. My dad happened to call me that same day, so I asked him, “Dad is four too young?”

He said, “I was four.” My dad was born in 1922 and back then they had tent revival services right down to the sawdust on the floor. They called it a “sawdust trail” and my dad walked that trail to the front of the tent meeting and gave his four-year-old heart to Jesus.

He never lost his faith in all of his 89 years of life. When we knew he was dying, I took him for a walk, pushing him in his wheelchair through the nursing home halls. I took him to a private place and asked him if he was afraid of dying. He assured me he was not. He was going home to be with his Father.

So when I think about “O Holy Night” I think my dad just wanted one more moment to rejoice in his Lord’s birth. He had several other favorite songs that we sang to him that day, my mom and me, and on one, Dad joined us–“In The Garden.” He was no stranger to time alone with the Lord. He read his Bible cover to cover every year that I can remember.

I hope that when my time comes to meet my beloved Savior that I hear that same song, “O Holy Night” in my heart as I step from this life to the next. Because if it were not for that one holy night in Bethlehem over two thousand years ago, the weary world would have no reason to rejoice. But now we do. And to those of us who know Him, may this Christmas be one of true awe and wonder for all He has done for us. For how much He loves us. To know that He would suffer the indignity of birth and later death, exposed and vulnerable for all to see. For us. Because of His great love.

So, rejoice! Christ is the Lord! May we forever proclaim His Great Name!

Merry Christmas!