This week I finished reading through the Bible for the thirty-second time. Exactly half the years of my life I’ve read the Bible cover to cover. Hard for me to believe, but a little effort compounded over a long time brings good outcomes. I’ve noticed that somewhere along the way my Bible moved from a religious text to a trusted friend.

A lot has happened since I started this discipline. Over the 40 or more years I’ve been seriously reading and studying my Bible, I’ve watched wars start and finish, only to start again elsewhere. Political wrangling has grown nastier, metastasizing into its current form. Our society’s perspective on morals, never Puritanical in my lifetime, drifted further from shore. Religious persecutions continue unabated in many parts of our world. Personally, I’ve grown older (and maybe wiser), have lost people I loved and gained new ones to love as well.

Though all the changes, this one habit grounds me. When I started this journey, I read where Jesus said to love God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself. Now, all these years later, Jesus says the exact same thing.

The Scriptures form a lens through which I attempt to view the world. How does a certain perspective on wealth or gender or sexuality or politics stack up against Biblical values? Some issues remain cloudy, but I start from the Bible and move outward, rather than band-aiding a verse on ever-shifting opinions.

I draw comfort from reading God’s promises over and over. I write verses in my journal that I return to often. Here’s a favorite: The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

A good friend brings stability, and the Scriptures do just that. Everything around me alters and reorganizes, but God never shifts. King David wrote about how the Lord set his feet upon a rock, and made his steps secure. That rock still exists. It sits in plain sight. Take up the Good Book and read. Over time it will become a good friend, one who sticks with you for the rest of your life.

Matthew 22:37-39; Philippians 4:6-7; Psalm 40:2

Photo by Nathan Dumlao

Even though Christmas Day has past, my wife and I like to linger in the moment. We leave our decorations up well past the new year. Why be in a hurry to move on? Plus, since it took so much work to get ready, we enjoy the accouterments of the holiday a bit longer.

One Christmas carol, however, reminds me it’s time to move on. Go Tell It On The Mountain refers to shepherds, who after a searing encounter with an angelic host, left their fields to find a baby. As they ran they shouted to everyone they met: Unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord! (I like this version of the song, as it captures the enthusiasm of the shepherds).

Go Tell It On The Mountain originated among slaves in the American South, and was first put on paper by John Wesley Work, an African-American collector of Negro spirituals. Even people in bondage, perhaps with more intensity than us today, celebrated the birth of our Savior.

This song reminds us to keep telling. After his death and resurrection Jesus met with his disciples and gave them a mission: Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.

Jesus commissioned his disciples to spread out across the entire world and make more and more followers of him. In other words, Go Tell It On The Mountain! We follow in the footsteps of angels and shepherds and apostles when we pass on the wonderful news that Jesus Christ is born.

Luke 2:10-12; Matthew 28:18-20

Photo by Thanti Riess

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