Peace imbues the Christmas carol Silent Night. Written for a Christmas Eve service in Austria, it was first performed in 1818. As I listen, I feel the quiet calm of a snowy landscape lying under the stars.

The song returns us the first evening of Jesus’s birth, shepherds trembling at the myriads of angels filling the sky, a brilliant star over Bethlehem, and a mother with her new born infant. No normal baby, Christ the Savior was born, the Lord of all the universe at his own arrival.

The organ at the small church in Austria was damaged that night (possibly due to a flood), so a soloist accompanied by guitar performed the song. When you hear Silent Night in that style you’re experiencing the tune in its purest form.

The lyrics remind me of how the Lord comes to us. Not with amplification, but in quiet. Elijah didn’t heard the voice of God in wind or earthquake or fire, but in a whisper —a still small voice.

I encourage you to find a version of Silent Night you enjoy (try this one), turn down the lights, and allow tranquility to pervade your soul. Perhaps the Lord has a word for you as well in his still, small voice.

Luke 2; 1 Kings 19:11-13

Photo by Tim Umphreys

Years ago I stopped on my way home to fill up the car. It was December, the kiosk at the station sold cassettes (remember those?), and I bought a tape called Citgo Country Christmas. We listened to that album until it came apart. Possibly the best impulse buy I’ve ever made. It was through this promo from a filling station that I first heard the haunting modern Christmas hymn Mary Did You Know?

The song references the life of Jesus displayed to his mother. Mary indeed heard of Jesus healing the blind and calming the storm, and followed her son all the way to the cross. But in those first days, nursing her infant boy, Mary can only wonder where this miraculous birth would lead.

A couple of lines stand out to me. First, Jesus is indeed Lord of all Creation: For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him.

Then, when you’ve kissed your little baby, then you’ve kissed the face of God, derives from Jesus himself who tells us, I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. God lay cooing in Mary’s arms.

Few writings or sermons paint such an alluring picture of this unbelievable moment. Omnipotent God in the arms of a human mother. How much does God love our world? So much so he trusted the life of his Son to a mortal. Mary grew to understand all the song reveals. She kissed the face of God as an infant, through teen-aged years, holding Jesus crucified in her arms, and joyfully after his resurrection.

Mary knows, and now you and I know as well.

Colossians 1:15-16: Revelation 22:13

Photo by Phil Hearing

The first song ever played over a radio broadcast was a performance of O Holy Night on violin in 1906. Written by a French wine commissioner and put to music by a famous opera composer, it’s popularity in France led to translations into various languages. Our English version dates back to 1861.

Biblical themes infuse O Holy Night. Shepherds watch the skies on the night of Jesus’s birth. Our world suffers under the sin of Adam. The birth of Jesus underscores the overwhelming worth of our souls. God so loved the world—the souls of men and women—that he gave his only son. A proper response? The same as the shepherds—fall on our knees. A new and glorious day has appeared.

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining;
It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!
Fall on your knees! O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night divine! O night, O night divine!

In the third verse the author wrote of love, peace, and freedom. These lines fueled abolitionists in Europe and America, pointing out the need to break the chains of oppression and release the slaves in their midst. As you might guess, this song was much more popular in the Northern parts of the United States during the Civil War than in the South.

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.

Today we live in a weary world. Oppressions plagues many, be it poor health or mental anguish or loneliness or addiction. We all need hope. As this carol reminds us, that hope has arrived. Step out into a dark and quiet evening and look up at the stars. Ask the Lord to meet you there. Listen for echoes of that divine night, of angel’s voices, and feel the thrill of hope rise in your heart.

Luke 2:8-20

Photo by Klemen Vrankar

As we wait for Christmas day to arrive, we join saints from the past twelve hundred years when we sing O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. Written in Latin, the carol originated in European monasteries in the 900s. It was sung in anticipation of Christmas Eve, just as we do today.

The song references an Old Testament prophecy of the birth of a Savior: Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.

Matthew explained in his gospel how the birth of Jesus satisfied that bold prediction: All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with us).

The carol goes on the use several titles for Jesus, including the Rod of Jesse, the Key of David, and the Lord of Might, referencing God’s majesty when delivering the law to Moses on Mount Sinai. Steeped in Old Testament imagery, O Come, O Come, Emmanuel bridges the desire of ancient Israel with the reality of the new born King.

As the song says, Jesus frees us from Satan’s tyranny, puts death’s dark shadows to flight, and opens wide our heavenly home. Today we sing, we pray, and we rejoice that Emmanuel—God with us—has indeed come.

Isaiah 7:14 & Matthew 1:22-23

Photo by David Beale