Silent - Calm - Redeeming Grace

I do love Christmas music. I have been known to listen to it at seemingly inappropriate times of the year – like pre December 1^st!

It seemed necessary to say that in order to say this: some of it I really don’t get.

It’s not even necessarily an entire song. It may be just a line or two. In this case, it is a favourite song … a treasured song – but when I think about the birth of a baby I just wonder…

“Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright.”

Really? With what we know and what we suppose from the record in scripture…really?

Hear me out. The Bible tells us that Mary and Joseph were in Bethlehem because they had to be. For a census. For taxation. And lots of others were there too, for the same reason. Lots of others. So many, in fact, that there was no room in the inn.

So – let’s put more people in a town than that town can accommodate. Let’s put them there for a reason that will make most of them unhappy – even angry, and then consider, how silent, how calm do you think it actually could be? How silent are you when you know that your taxes are going up?

Let’s add to that mix the fact that it is not just about taxes but it is about taxes to a government that is oppressing them, occupying their land…and I wonder…

Silent night, holy night…all is calm…I doubt it.

And then I try to put myself in Mary’s…sandals…About to give birth and not only away from home and all that is familiar but also away from the comfort of her mother’s touch or the support of a sister or a friend…perhaps with only Joseph present…Did anyone come to help? As the pains of labour grew stronger, did anyone hear her cry?  Do silent and calm fit with any birth you have experienced?

And then, this isn’t just any child…this child…nothing will be the same after this child…

Would you be calm?

Silent night, Holy night. It paints a nice picture…it fits neatly on the mantle…but I wonder…

From the time that it was announced to Mary that his birth was coming and that she would be part of it…to Joseph’s dream… to the trek to Bethlehem… to the noise and uproar of that town… and even to the skies exploding with the angelic announcement to the shepherds…not much silence…not much calm.

Even looking forward – a life lived that disrupted everyone around him…especially a disruption to those who obeyed the simple command “follow me.”

So, how do we get to “silent night”?

How do we get to “all is calm”?

Further verses in this song proclaim “Christ the Saviour is born!” Not a saviour. The Saviour. My Saviour.

And then there is this: “dawn of redeeming grace.”

Ah, grace…redeeming grace…grace that silences all the noise and calms all the turmoil in my heart.

Silent night. Holy night. I am left with only wonder!

“But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people. Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.’” (Luke 2:10, 11)

Ruth U.

Give My Heart

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.

If I were a wise man, I would do my part.

Yet what I can I give Him - give my heart.

Christmas is all about giving - every year we busy ourselves with finding that special gift for that special someone. Yet how much do we really consider what it means to give, and how we give to God?

I remember when I was six and I recited this poem in our school's Christmas pageant. I didn't feel the full weight of the words then only that I had to say them from memory. Yet because of that exercise, these words by Christina Rossetti have not only stayed with me, but have become a part of me. It's just something in the nature of being a child.

In the Bible, it instructs us to come to Jesus as little children (Matthew 19:14), and it's easy to understand why. Children are more trusting than adults, and they are also much more deeply impressed and shaped by their experiences.

In those first formative years, our hearts were open to the world. Life brought us to tears one minute and laughter the next, and we had a different view of giving. Children give hugs; children will give a picture they made; children will sing a song or tell a story as a gift. Jesus delights in these offerings from the heart - yet somewhere along the journey of life, our resources of time and talent become neglected in favour of money and things when we ponder what to give.

How poignant, then, that at Christmas we try to see the world through the eyes of a child once again - may we make an extra effort to give like one. And once Christmas is over, may we remember that Jesus longs us to have that same heart for Him every day of the year. He delights in a heart that's generous, impressionable, and sensitive to His voice. It will be the cheapest as well as the most expensive gift you will ever give.

Ruth-Ellen W.

Celebrate!

Did you know that Christmas celebrations were once illegal? I am not referring to the Soviet Union or Communist China. I mean here – in North America and in England. Any celebration, almost any recognition of the day, was forbidden.

It wasn’t that an evil godless government had taken over or that secular society reigned supreme. It was basically enforced by the church – the protestant church. Hmm…

In England, for a short time, it was suggested that the day could be recognized provided it was a day of fasting. Wouldn’t that be a change?!

Granted, this was a few centuries back, but still it is a little hard to imagine compared to where we are now.

So, this made me wonder…what part of my Christmas celebration would I miss most if it was no longer possible or even legal to enjoy it?

What makes Christmas Christmas?

I asked some friends what they would miss. What one event, one tradition that if they could not take part in it, would cause them to feel like they hadn’t really had Christmas.

I was told of informal talent shows put on by kids, of stories read together and music blaring.

I was told of traditions of tree decorating… one grandma with her grandsons (that’s a special grandma!) and of ornaments cherished as they invoke memories of families and friends and times past.

And food! Food shared. Meals shared. Homemade ice cream and brunch together and chocolate and wassail and ‘those butterscotch oh henry things that you make”…

And those who make do…or really, make new…because of location and distance and kids no longer at home.

Relationship. These answers really all come down to relationship.

Memories…family…traditions…all about relationships.

Relationship is the very essence of Christmas.

We celebrate…we are able to celebrate, because God longed to have relationship with us.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

A plan put in place long before the babe in the manger scene. A plan for relationship restored.

So if it all became illegal again… if there were no trees to decorate, no music to play and no special meals shared, there would still be Christmas…because the Son was still sent… the Son still came… and the relationship is still offered.

So if it becomes illegal again  to display any sign of the day…to display the manger scene in a public space… to say anything but “Happy Holidays” and to spell Christmas with an ‘X’…there will still be Christmas…because the Son was still sent… the Son still came …and relationship is still offered.

Celebrate that. Not as a right… not as a tradition…but as an absolute gift!

Have a Blessed, Blessed Christmas.

Ruth U.

B - R - E - A - T - H - E

(fictional . . . unless this hits too close to your home)

MONDAY. My feet hit the floor running. Shower. Hair. Make-up. Wake up kids. Unload the dishwasher . . . make lunches . . . sign forms and scrounge for field trip money. I pass the Tree (it’s been waiting five days to be dressed). We have to put it up tonight. I call Jon the second time. We gulp breakfast, then drive to school.

I fly into the office . . . another deadline! I eat lunch at my desk. My phone rings at 2. It’s the school . . . Tessa has a high fever . . . can you pick her up? Of course. I stuff papers in my bag and head out. O no, a train! I mumble and grumble . . . white knuckles grip the wheel. Hey guys, get it together and put in that overpass! I am really irritable.

Tessa is 14, but today she is 6. She wants her mommy, a cool cloth, arms to hold her, and Tylenol. I finally think of supper . . . I throw a Costco lasagna in the mike. Dave offers to clean up so I can get groceries. You’re an absolute dear, I tell him.

Tonight we have to put up the tree. Cookies for the Holly Tea is on my list, too. Dave takes Jon to soccer. I shop, unload, make lunches, sweep the floor, throw Jon’s soccer stuff in the washer, listen to his lines for the Christmas play. I start the cookies, then Tessa calls me again.

At 9, the kids are finally in their rooms . . . Tessa is asleep, fever down. I take out my work. My head is spinning, my shoulders aching. Dave asks me a simple question and I snap at him. He backs off. I feel terrible, and I keep on working. At 11, I look at the boxes of decorations on the floor. And what about the cookies? I’m dead tired! It’s too much! I want to cry!

*To the stressed-out reader: find 5 minutes of quiet, uninterrupted time and try this:

B-R-E-A-T-H-E.

Take 3 s-l-o-w breaths . . . count 1 . . . take another slow breath, 2 . . . take another breath . . . 3

Slow it down even further 1. . . 2 . . . 3 . . . Let your whole body go limp like a rag doll.

Feel the tension leave your shoulders. 

Take another 3 breaths I . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . Notice the calmness in your body and mind.

Listen to the words, “You will keep her in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You.”

Peace?  . . .  Possible in this chaos?  . . . “Yes, He whispers.”

Take another slow breath . . . say, “Come, Prince of Peace. I breathe in the peace of Jesus.” Say it again. Feel the warm presence of His Spirit melting all tension and anxiety . . .  slowly, drink in His sweet peace . . .  

TUESDAY. Your feet hit the floor running. Write your own story . . . Remember  . . .

B-R-E-A-T-H-E  . . . and know His peace!

Ruth G.