In the hushed moments of a winter’s eve, when the world seems to hold its breath in anticipation, we find ourselves drawn to the haunting melody of “Silent Night, Holy Night.” This beloved hymn, like a gentle snowfall, blankets our hearts with a sense of wonder and awe, inviting us to step into a realm where time stands still and the divine touches the mundane. As we embark on this spiritual odyssey, let us ponder the profound depths concealed within these simple verses, for in their simplicity lies a complexity that echoes the very nature of the Incarnation itself.

The Apostle Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 8:9, “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.” Is this not the essence of “Silent Night”? A cosmic king, clothed in the vulnerability of infant flesh, entering our world not with fanfare, but in hushed reverence. As we delve deeper into this hymn, let us prepare our hearts to be both comforted and challenged, for the true meaning of Christmas often lies in the tension between the familiar and the revolutionary.

In a world that often seems to teeter on the brink of chaos, the opening lines of “Silent Night” paint a picture of tranquility that seems almost too good to be true. “All is calm, all is bright,” the lyrics assure us. But pause, dear reader, and consider: Is this merely poetic license, or does it speak to a deeper, more profound reality?

The prophet Isaiah, centuries before that holy night in Bethlehem, proclaimed, “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6). The peace that “Silent Night” speaks of is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of something—or rather, Someone—far greater.

This calm, this brightness, stands in stark contrast to the turmoil of our daily lives. It challenges us to look beyond the surface, to seek the eye of the storm where true peace resides. In the midst of political upheaval, personal struggles, and global uncertainties, can we truly claim that all is calm and bright? Perhaps the hymn is not describing the world as it is, but as it is meant to be—and as it can be when we allow the Prince of Peace to reign in our hearts.

“‘Round yon virgin mother and child,” the hymn continues, drawing our gaze to the central figures of the Nativity. Here, in the stillness of that holy night, we encounter Mary—young, vulnerable, yet embodying a strength that defies comprehension. The Gospel of Luke recounts her initial response to the angel’s announcement: “How will this be, since I am a virgin?” (Luke 1:34). Yet, this same Mary later proclaims, “My soul glorifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior” (Luke 1:46-47).

In Mary’s silent vigil over her newborn son, we see a reflection of our own spiritual journey. How often do we, like Mary, find ourselves cradling mystery in our arms, nurturing a faith that defies logical explanation? The virgin mother becomes for us an icon of contemplative trust, a reminder that true strength often manifests in quiet acceptance rather than boisterous assertion.

As we ponder Mary’s role in this cosmic drama, let us also examine our own hearts. Are we willing, like Mary, to say “yes” to the impossible? To nurture the divine within us, even when it means facing ridicule, hardship, or uncertainty? The silence of that holy night echoes through the ages, challenging us to find our own quiet strength in a world that often values noise over substance.

The juxtaposition of divinity and humanity reaches its zenith in the phrase “Holy infant, so tender and mild.” Here, in these few words, we encounter the mystery of the Incarnation in all its paradoxical glory. The Almighty, clothed in the fragility of human flesh; the Eternal, bound by the constraints of time; the Creator, dependent on His creation.

The Apostle John, in his Gospel, captures this divine condescension with poetic precision: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14). But what does it mean for us, in our daily lives, to worship a God who willingly embraced such vulnerability?

Perhaps in this tender infant, we see a reflection of our own spiritual state—utterly dependent on divine grace, incapable of saving ourselves. The mighty hand that flung stars into space now curls around Mary’s finger, reminding us that true strength often manifests in apparent weakness. As Paul would later write, “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness'” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

In a world that often equates power with dominance and success with visible achievement, the image of the holy infant challenges our very understanding of strength and divinity. It invites us to embrace our own weakness, to find in our vulnerabilities the very spaces where divine grace can flourish.

As the first verse of “Silent Night” draws to a close, we are left with the soothing refrain, “Sleep in heavenly peace.” These words, more than a mere lullaby, open a window into the very nature of divine rest. In the midst of a world wracked by unrest, political tensions, and personal anxieties, the concept of “heavenly peace” may seem like a distant dream.

Yet, is this not the very peace that Christ himself promised? “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27). The sleep of the Christ child becomes a powerful metaphor for the rest that awaits all who put their trust in Him.

But let us not be lulled into complacency, dear reader. This heavenly peace is not a passive state of inaction, but rather a dynamic reality that should propel us towards active engagement with the world around us. As we contemplate the sleeping infant, let us ask ourselves: How can we become agents of this heavenly peace in a world that so desperately needs it? How can we, like Christ, embody a peace that transcends understanding and transforms lives?

As we move into the second verse of our hymn, we encounter a striking image: “Shepherds quake at the sight.” These simple herdsmen, accustomed to the rugged realities of pastoral life, find themselves trembling in the presence of the divine. Their reaction serves as a powerful reminder of the appropriate response to encountering the living God.

The prophet Isaiah, upon seeing a vision of the Lord, cried out, “Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty” (Isaiah 6:5). Similarly, when Peter realized the true identity of Jesus, he fell at his knees and said, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!” (Luke 5:8).

In our modern world, where familiarity often breeds contempt and the sacred is frequently trivialized, the quaking shepherds stand as a rebuke to our casual approach to the divine. When was the last time we trembled in God’s presence? Have we, in our quest for a comfortable faith, lost sight of the awesome majesty of the Almighty?

Yet, let us not forget that these same shepherds, after their initial terror, became the first evangelists, “spreading the word concerning what had been told them about this child” (Luke 2:17). Their fear was transformed into joy, their trembling into testimony. Perhaps in their journey, we can find a roadmap for our own spiritual lives—moving from holy fear to holy boldness, all the while maintaining a sense of wonder at the miracle of the Incarnation.

As our hymn progresses, we are transported from the earthy realm of quaking shepherds to the celestial heights where “Glories stream from heaven afar.” This vivid imagery echoes the angelic proclamation recorded in Luke’s Gospel: “Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests'” (Luke 2:13-14).

But what are these “glories” that stream from heaven? Are they merely ethereal lights, or do they represent something far more profound? The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Colossians, provides a clue: “For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form” (Colossians 2:9). Could it be that these streaming glories are nothing less than the attributes of God Himself, now made visible and accessible through the person of Christ?

As we contemplate this celestial display, let us also consider our role as reflectors of divine glory. Paul reminds us, “And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit” (2 Corinthians 3:18). In what ways are we allowing God’s glory to stream through our lives, illuminating the darkness around us?

The climax of the second verse arrives with the triumphant declaration, “Christ the Savior is born!” These six words, simple yet profound, encapsulate the very essence of the Christian faith. Here, in the midst of history, eternity intersects with time, and the long-awaited promise finds its fulfillment.

The name “Christ” itself is laden with meaning, derived from the Greek “Christos,” meaning “Anointed One.” This title hearkens back to the Old Testament prophecies of a coming Messiah, the one who would deliver God’s people. As the angel declared to Joseph, “She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).

But what does it mean for us, in the 21st century, to proclaim that Christ the Savior is born? In a world that often seeks salvation in technology, wealth, or personal achievement, the notion of needing a Savior can seem antiquated or even offensive. Yet, if we are honest with ourselves, do we not all feel the weight of our own inadequacies, the burden of our failures and shortcomings?

The birth of Christ the Savior is not merely a historical event to be commemorated, but a present reality to be embraced. It challenges us to acknowledge our need for divine intervention, to humble ourselves before the manger-throne. As we sing these words, let us examine our hearts: Have we truly accepted Christ as our Savior, or are we still attempting to save ourselves?

As we transition into the third verse of “Silent Night,” we encounter a phrase of exquisite beauty: “Son of God, love’s pure light.” Here, in these few words, we find a profound theological statement that resonates with the deepest truths of Scripture.

The Apostle John, in his first epistle, boldly proclaims, “God is light; in him there is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). He further elaborates, “This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:9-10).

In the person of Christ, we see the perfect fusion of light and love—divine illumination that does not blind or burn, but heals and transforms. This “pure light” stands in stark contrast to the shadowy half-truths and deceptive glimmers that often captivate our attention. It challenges us to examine the sources of light in our own lives: Are we basking in the pure light of divine love, or are we content with the artificial glow of worldly affections?

Moreover, this phrase invites us to consider our own role as bearers of this light. Jesus himself said, “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden” (Matthew 5:14). How are we reflecting and refracting the pure light of God’s love in our daily interactions, our work, our relationships?

As our hymn builds to its crescendo, we encounter a phrase that captures the essence of the Gospel message: “With the dawn of redeeming grace.” Here, in these few words, we find echoes of Paul’s declaration in Ephesians: “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace” (Ephesians 1:7).

The imagery of dawn is particularly poignant, suggesting the end of a long, dark night of waiting. The prophet Malachi had foretold, “But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays” (Malachi 4:2). In the birth of Christ, we see the first rays of this divine sunrise, breaking through the darkness of sin and despair.

But what exactly is this “redeeming grace” that dawns with the birth of Christ? The concept of redemption implies a restoration, a buying back of something lost. In the grand narrative of Scripture, we see humanity’s fall from grace in Eden, followed by God’s relentless pursuit to restore what was lost. The birth of Christ marks the pivotal moment in this redemptive story, the point at which divine love takes on human flesh to bridge the chasm between God and man.

As we contemplate this dawn of redeeming grace, let us ask ourselves: Have we fully embraced the redemption offered in Christ? Are we living as those who have been bought at a price, or are we still clinging to the shadows of our unredeemed past?

The third verse of “Silent Night” concludes with a bold affirmation: “Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth!” This declaration of Christ’s lordship, even as an infant, challenges our understanding of power and authority. Here, in the vulnerability of a newborn, we encounter the sovereign Lord of the universe.

The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, beautifully captures this paradox: “Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness” (Philippians 2:6-7). The lordship of Christ is not diminished by His humble birth; rather, it is magnified through His willingness to condescend to our level.

This affirmation of Jesus as Lord from the moment of His birth also speaks to the preexistence of Christ. As John’s Gospel proclaims, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). The infant in the manger is not merely a prophet or a good teacher, but the eternal Son of God, worthy of our worship and allegiance.

As we sing these words, let us examine our own hearts: Have we truly acknowledged Jesus as Lord in every aspect of our lives? Are there areas where we still resist His sovereign rule? The manger scene invites us to bow before the infant King, surrendering our will to His perfect plan.

As we enter the final verse of our hymn, we encounter a cosmic element that adds depth to the Nativity narrative: “Wondrous star, lend thy light.” This celestial beacon, guided the Magi from the East, serves as a powerful metaphor for divine guidance and revelation.

The prophet Balaam, centuries before Christ’s birth, had declared, “I see him, but not now; I behold him, but not near. A star will come out of Jacob; a scepter will rise out of Israel” (Numbers 24:17). In the star over Bethlehem, we see the fulfillment of this ancient prophecy, a cosmic signpost pointing to the King of kings.

But the star does more than merely guide; it “lends its light,” contributing to the illumination of the scene. In this, we are reminded of John’s prologue: “The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world” (John 1:9). The star becomes a symbol of all creation bearing witness to its Creator, lending its light to magnify the greater Light that has entered the world.

As we contemplate this wondrous star, let us ask ourselves: What light are we lending to illuminate Christ in our world.

As we conclude our journey through the sacred silence of “Silent Night, Holy Night,” let us pause to reflect on the profound mysteries we’ve unveiled. Like the star that guided the Magi, may this hymn lead us to a deeper encounter with the Christ child. Let its gentle melody awaken our souls to the wonder of the Incarnation, and may we, like the shepherds, tremble in awe before the majesty of God made flesh. As we leave this moment of contemplation, may we carry the light of Christ into the world, embodying the peace and love that dawned in Bethlehem so long ago. For in the whisper of that holy night, we find the thunderous proclamation of God’s redeeming grace, forever changing the course of human history and our own hearts.

Christmas devotion: Gifts

When the wise men saw the star they shouted joyfully. As they came into the house and saw the child with Mary his mother, they bowed down and worshiped him. They opened their treasure boxes and gave him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

The wise men brought Jesus gifts which were filled with meaning. They brought gold, a gift fit for a king. The gold was also very useful for the family as they fled to Egypt to save Jesus’ life. We may not have gold but we can make Christ the king of our lives!

The wise men also gave a perfume called frankincense to Jesus. Frankincense was used by priests to worship God in the temple. This gift points to the fact that Jesus would be our priest, the one who would stand in the gap between the Holy God and sinful humanity. Frankincense points to our redemption, our salvation.

The third gift was myrrh. Myrrh was used to prepare a body for burial. It seems like an odd gift for a child but in light of the mission of Christ this gift makes perfect sense. The way our redemption was purchased is through the atoning death of Jesus. He took our sin and shame and died because of it. Then three days later he defeated the consequence of our sin, he rose from the grave. The resurrection narrative tells us that Mary and some other women tried to anoint the body of Jesus with myrrh on the third day after his crucifixion. The expensive myrrh that they were going to use was most likely the same myrrh that the wise men gave to Jesus.

The beauty of this last gift was that it was never used. Jesus died to purchase us life but before the myrrh could be used he rose to give us hope!

Our prayer for you this Christmas is that you join the family of God, that you live because of Christ’s work on the cross and that you live in the hope of his resurrection. If we follow him in life and in death we will follow him in his resurrection as well!

In the hushed sanctuaries of our hearts, where the eternal whispers of divinity resonate with celestial clarity, there dwells a melody so potent, so transformative, that it has the power to awaken even the most dormant of souls. As we stand on the threshold of another Christmas season, let us pause, dear seekers of truth, and allow the rich tapestry of “Joy to the World” to unfurl before our spiritual eyes, revealing layers of meaning as deep as the star-studded heavens above Bethlehem’s humble manger.

“Joy to the world, the Lord is come! Let earth receive her King!”

In these opening lines, we encounter a truth so magnificent, so earth-shattering, that it threatens to overwhelm our mortal comprehension. The Creator of the cosmos, the Alpha and Omega, has condescended to walk among His creation. Can we, in our finite understanding, truly grasp the gravity of this cosmic event?

The Apostle John, in his Gospel, paints this divine descent with words that shimmer with celestial light: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14). This is not merely a historical event, but a cosmic shift, a divine intervention that cleaves time itself into before and after.

But let us probe deeper, beloved. What does it mean for the earth to “receive her King”? Is it a passive acceptance, a mere acknowledgment of His presence? Nay, it is a call to active participation in the divine drama. Each blade of grass, each grain of sand, each human heart is summoned to bend in reverence, to align itself with the rhythm of heaven’s joy.

“Let ev’ry heart prepare Him room, and heav’n and nature sing”

Here, we are confronted with a profound challenge. In the cluttered chambers of our hearts, amidst the detritus of worldly concerns and selfish ambitions, can we carve out a space worthy of the King of Kings? The prophet Isaiah’s words echo through the corridors of time: “Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him” (Isaiah 40:3).

This preparation is no mere tidying up, no superficial rearrangement of our spiritual furniture. It is a radical renovation, a complete overhaul of our inner landscape. It requires us to examine every nook and cranny of our being, to root out the weeds of sin and selfishness, and to cultivate the fertile soil of humility and love.

And as we engage in this sacred work, something miraculous occurs. Heaven and nature, as if sensing the alignment of our hearts with divine purpose, burst forth in joyous song. Can you hear it, dear seeker? The rustling of leaves, the babbling of brooks, the very atoms of creation vibrating in harmony with the celestial chorus?

“Joy to the earth, the Savior reigns! Let men their songs employ”

With the coming of Christ, a new era is inaugurated. The old order, with its tyranny of sin and death, begins to crumble. The Savior’s reign is not one of earthly pomp and circumstance, but of transformative love and grace. As the Apostle Paul declares, “For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit” (Romans 14:17).

But let us not be passive observers in this cosmic drama. We are called to “employ our songs,” to add our voices to the grand chorus of creation. What does your song sound like, beloved? Is it a timid whisper, barely audible above the din of worldly concerns? Or is it a bold proclamation, a testament to the transformative power of Christ in your life?

“While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains repeat the sounding joy”

In these lines, we encounter a truth both beautiful and convicting. All of creation, from the smallest pebble to the mightiest mountain, recognizes and responds to the presence of its Creator. The Psalmist captures this cosmic adoration beautifully: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (Psalm 19:1).

Yet how often do we, bearers of the divine image, fail to join in this celestial chorus? How often do we allow the cacophony of worldly concerns to drown out the sweet melody of divine joy? Let us learn from the rocks and hills, dear ones. Let us attune our hearts to the rhythm of heaven, that we too might “repeat the sounding joy.”

“No more let sins and sorrows grow, nor thorns infest the ground”

Here, we encounter a promise so audacious, so contrary to our fallen experience, that it staggers the imagination. The curse that has plagued humanity since Eden, the thorns that have infested not just our fields but our very souls, are to be uprooted.

This is not mere wishful thinking, but a divine promise rooted in the person and work of Christ. As the prophet Isaiah foretold, “He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5).

Yet, beloved, let us not fall into the trap of passive expectation. While the ultimate fulfillment of this promise awaits the final consummation of all things, we are called to be active participants in its realization. Each act of forgiveness, each choice for love over hate, each moment of selfless service becomes a foretaste of that glorious future.

“He comes to make His blessings flow far as the curse is found”

In these lines, we encounter a truth both comforting and challenging. The reach of Christ’s redemptive work is as vast as the curse itself. No corner of creation, no recess of the human heart, is beyond the touch of divine grace.

The Apostle Paul captures this cosmic scope of redemption in his letter to the Colossians: “For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross” (Colossians 1:19-20).

But let us pause and consider, beloved. If Christ’s blessings are to flow as far as the curse is found, what role do we play in this divine irrigation? Are we conduits of His grace, allowing His love to flow freely through us to a parched and thirsty world? Or have we become dams, hoarding His blessings for ourselves?

“He rules the world with truth and grace, and makes the nations prove the glories of His righteousness”

Here, we encounter a vision of divine governance that stands in stark contrast to the kingdoms of this world. Christ’s rule is not characterized by brute force or political maneuvering, but by the twin pillars of truth and grace.

This is the fulfillment of the prophetic vision given to Isaiah: “Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever” (Isaiah 9:7).

Yet, how often do we, as Christ’s ambassadors, misrepresent His rule? How often do we wield truth as a weapon, devoid of grace? Or offer grace without the foundation of truth? Let us strive, beloved, to embody the perfect balance demonstrated by our Lord, who was “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).

“And wonders of His love, and wonders of His love, and wonders, wonders of His love”

As our hymn draws to a close, we are left with a refrain that echoes into eternity. The wonders of God’s love are not a finite resource to be exhausted, but an ever-deepening mystery to be explored.

The Apostle Paul, grappling with the magnitude of this love, prays that we “may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge” (Ephesians 3:18-19).

Dear seeker, as we stand on the cusp of another Christmas season, let us not be content with a surface-level celebration. Let us dive deep into the ocean of God’s love, exploring its wonders with childlike wonder and scholarly dedication. Let each Christmas carol become a key to unlock new chambers in the vast palace of divine love.

For in the end, it is this love – boundless, sacrificial, transformative – that lies at the heart of the Christmas story. It is this love that compelled the Word to become flesh, that drew shepherds from their fields and wise men from distant lands. It is this love that continues to call to us today, inviting us to join in the celestial chorus, to prepare Him room in our hearts, to be conduits of His blessings to a world in desperate need.

As we sing “Joy to the World” this Christmas, may it be more than mere words on our lips. May it be a declaration of our hearts, a commitment to live as bearers of divine joy in a world often shrouded in sorrow. May we, like the fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains, become living echoes of heaven’s joy, testaments to the transformative power of the Christ child born in Bethlehem.

For truly, dear ones, the Lord is come. Let earth – and each one of us – receive her King!

Christmas devotion: Room

And Mary gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in strips of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

On the very first Christmas there was no room given to Christ. Unfortunately many today still seem to have no room for Jesus in their hearts. This is unfortunate because everyone has a hole in their heart that only a relationship with Christ can fill.

One wise Christian addressed the following words to God, “You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you.” The way to find peace this Christmas is to make room for Christ in your heart. Put him first and all else will fall into its proper place.

Our hope for you today is that you make room for Jesus. Put him first, then fit the other things in your life around him.

In the hushed stillness of a world awaiting redemption, we find ourselves drawn to the manger, that humble cradle that held divinity. As we approach the celebration of Christ’s birth, let us pause and reflect on the profound message encapsulated in the beloved hymn “Trust and Obey.” For in its simple refrain lies a truth as old as creation and as new as the babe in Bethlehem.

“When we walk with the Lord in the light of his word, what a glory he sheds on our way!” These opening lines of our hymn beckon us to a journey—not unlike that of the Magi who followed the star to Bethlehem. But our guiding light is not a celestial body; it is the very Word made flesh, of whom John speaks: “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind” (John 1:4).

Consider, dear seeker, the profound paradox of the Nativity. The eternal Word, through whom all things were made, condescended to become a wordless infant. Yet in this seeming silence, God spoke volumes. The Christ child in the manger is the living embodiment of God’s word—a word of love, of reconciliation, of hope.

As we walk with the Lord, each step illuminated by the light of Scripture and the living Word, we find our path not always easy, but always clear. The Psalmist understood this when he penned, “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path” (Psalm 119:105). In a world shrouded in the darkness of sin and despair, the birth of Christ brings a dawn of new hope, a light that the darkness cannot overcome (John 1:5).

“While we do his good will, he abides with us still, and with all who will trust and obey.” Here we encounter a promise as comforting as a mother’s embrace, as steadfast as a father’s love. The God who took on flesh to dwell among us (John 1:14) does not leave us to walk alone.

Reflect, if you will, on the name given to the Christ child: Immanuel, “God with us” (Matthew 1:23). This is not a distant deity, issuing commands from on high, but a God who enters into the messiness of human existence, who knows intimately our joys and sorrows, our triumphs and temptations.

But let us not overlook the condition set before us: “While we do his good will.” Obedience, far from being a burdensome yoke, is the very key that unlocks the door to divine fellowship. As Jesus himself would later teach, “Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. The one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them” (John 14:21).

“Trust and obey, for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.” In these simple words lies a profound theological truth. Happiness—true, lasting joy—is not found in the fleeting pleasures of this world, nor in the accumulation of wealth or status. It is found in a relationship with the One who left heaven’s glory to be born in a stable.

But this relationship demands something of us. It calls for trust—a complete reliance on God’s goodness and wisdom, even when circumstances seem dire. It was this trust that enabled Mary to say, “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled” (Luke 1:38), even in the face of potential scandal and societal rejection.

And it calls for obedience—not the grudging compliance of a slave, but the loving response of a child to a perfect Father. Joseph exemplified this obedience when he took Mary as his wife and later fled to Egypt with the young Jesus, all in response to divine instruction (Matthew 1:24, 2:13-14).

“Not a burden we bear, not a sorrow we share, but our toil he doth richly repay; not a grief or a loss, not a frown or a cross, but is blest if we trust and obey.” These lines may seem at odds with the joy of the Christmas season. Yet they speak to a deep truth of the Christian life—that even our sufferings can be transformed by faith.

The birth of Christ, while a cause for celebration, was not without its hardships. Mary and Joseph faced a long journey, inhospitable conditions, and soon after, the threat of Herod’s murderous rage. Yet through it all, they trusted in God’s plan and obeyed His directives.

In this, they foreshadowed the words of James: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance” (James 1:2-3). Our burdens, when borne with trust in God and obedience to His will, become not just bearable but blessed—opportunities for spiritual growth and deepened reliance on divine grace.

“But we never can prove the delights of his love until all on the altar we lay; for the favor he shows, for the joy he bestows, are for them who will trust and obey.” Here we come to the crux of the matter—the call to complete surrender, to laying our all upon the altar of God’s love.

Is this not the very essence of the Incarnation? Christ, in coming to earth, laid aside the glories of heaven. As Paul beautifully expresses it, “Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness” (Philippians 2:6-7).

This divine self-emptying calls forth a response from us. We are invited—nay, challenged—to offer ourselves wholly to God. Only then can we truly experience the depths of His love, the fullness of His joy. It is in losing our lives that we find them (Matthew 16:25), in giving that we receive, in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.

“Then in fellowship sweet we will sit at his feet, or we’ll walk by his side in the way; what he says we will do, where he sends we will go; never fear, only trust and obey.” These closing lines paint a picture of intimate communion with Christ—a relationship that begins in the manger but extends throughout our earthly pilgrimage and into eternity.

To sit at His feet, like Mary of Bethany (Luke 10:39), is to adopt the posture of a disciple, eagerly drinking in every word of the Master. To walk by His side is to follow in His footsteps, to pattern our lives after His perfect example.

But notice the progression: from sitting to walking, from learning to doing. Our faith is not meant to be passive reception but active obedience. “What he says we will do, where he sends we will go.” This echoes the Great Commission, Christ’s final charge to His disciples (Matthew 28:19-20). Our trust in Him leads naturally to obedience, and our obedience deepens our trust.

As we reflect on this hymn in light of the Christmas story, we find its themes woven throughout the Nativity narrative. Consider the trust exhibited by Mary, who believed the angel’s impossible message. Ponder the obedience of Joseph, who set aside his own plans to become the earthly father of the Messiah.

Think of the shepherds, who trusted the angelic announcement and obeyed the prompt to seek out the newborn King. Reflect on the Magi, who trusted in ancient prophecies and obeyed the divine warning to return home by another route.

Each of these players in the grand drama of redemption demonstrates for us the interplay of trust and obedience. They show us that faith is not merely intellectual assent but a lived reality, a daily choosing to believe God’s promises and act on His commands.

As we stand on the threshold of another Christmas season, the message of this hymn poses a challenge to each of us. Will we, like Mary, trust in God’s plan even when it defies human understanding? Will we, like Joseph, obey divine guidance even when it disrupts our carefully laid plans?

The invitation of Christmas is not merely to celebrate a past event but to enter into an ongoing relationship with the One who was born in Bethlehem. It is a call to trust in the God who loved us enough to become one of us, and to obey the One who showed us through His life, death, and resurrection what it means to fully submit to the Father’s will.

As we close our reflection, let us remember that the angels’ proclamation to the shepherds was one of “peace on earth to those on whom his favor rests” (Luke 2:14). This peace—deep, abiding, transcendent—is the fruit of a life lived in trust and obedience.

When we trust in God’s goodness and obey His commands, we find ourselves aligned with the divine will. We discover, as Augustine so beautifully expressed, that our hearts are restless until they rest in Him. In trusting and obeying, we enter into the peace that surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7).

As we prepare our hearts to celebrate the birth of Christ, may the words of this hymn echo in our spirits. May we, like the shepherds, hasten to meet the newborn King. May we, like the Magi, offer Him our most precious gifts. And may we, like Mary, ponder these things in our hearts (Luke 2:19).

For the journey of faith that begins at the manger is one of continual trust and ongoing obedience. It is a path that leads us through valleys of shadow and mountains of transfiguration, through Garden agonies and Easter triumphs. But always, always, it is illuminated by the light of God’s word and guided by His abiding presence.

This Christmas, as carols fill the air and candles flicker in the night, may we renew our commitment to trust and obey. For in doing so, we not only commemorate the birth of Christ but participate in the ongoing miracle of divine love entering human hearts.

Let us, then, walk in the light of His word. Let us do His good will. Let us lay all on the altar of His love. And in that sweet fellowship of trust and obedience, may we find the true joy of Christmas—not just for a season, but for all eternity.

Trust and obey, for there’s no other way
To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.

Amen.

Christmas devotion: Go Home A Different Way

After being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, the wise men went back by another route to their own country.

The wise men sought something beyond their experience. They had seen in the stars that God would send a King to the Jews. They struck out to seek this one that God sent. They did what was wise, they responded to the light that they had been given. Even on their way home they responded to the truth they had encountered, they took a major risk and tricked King Herod because they were warned in a dream.

God gives each of us a certain amount of light. We are responsible for the light or truth that we have been given. In your life when you encounter deeper truth, a clearer light, respond accordingly.

Our hope for you today is that you set your heart to respond to the light that you have been given.

The Baffling Truth: A Love Beyond Comprehension

In the hushed corners of our hearts, where the divine whispers echo through the chambers of our souls, we encounter a truth so profound, so utterly bewildering, that it threatens to shatter the very foundations of our understanding. This truth, captured with exquisite poignancy in Charles Wesley’s timeless hymn “And Can It Be,” is the same truth that must have stirred the depths of Mary’s heart as she cradled the infant Jesus in her arms. It is a truth that every believer must eventually confront, a reality so overwhelming that it defies the boundaries of human comprehension: He died for each one of us.

As we stand before this monumental declaration, we find ourselves echoing the words of the hymn’s opening lines:

“And can it be that I should gain
An int’rest in the Savior’s blood?
Died He for me, who caused His pain?
For me, who Him to death pursued?”

These words, penned by Charles Wesley in 1738, resonate with a raw vulnerability that strips away our pretenses and lays bare the astonishing nature of God’s love. They invite us to pause, to breathe deeply, and to allow the weight of this truth to settle upon our hearts like dew on morning grass.

The Paradox of Divine Love: Amazing and Bewildering

The refrain of Wesley’s hymn captures the essence of this paradox:

“Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, should die for me!”

Here, we encounter the heart of the Gospel, a love so pure, so potent, that it defies logic and shatters our earthly understanding. It is a love that the apostle Paul describes as surpassing knowledge (Ephesians 3:19), a love that is higher than the heavens, deeper than the sea, wider than the universe itself.

Yet, how often do we, in our human frailty, diminish this love? How frequently do we treat it as common or expected, forgetting the magnitude of the sacrifice it represents? If we truly comprehend the depth of God’s love, how can our lives remain unchanged?

The Mystery of the Incarnation: The Immortal Dies

In the second verse, Wesley grapples with the profound mystery of the Incarnation:

“‘Tis mystery all! Th’Immortal dies!
Who can explore His strange design?
In vain the firstborn seraph tries
To sound the depths of love divine!”

Here, we confront the paradox that lies at the heart of Christian faith: the Immortal becomes mortal, the Infinite confines Himself to finitude, the Creator submits to His creation. This is the mystery that the apostle Paul speaks of in 1 Timothy 3:16, “Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of godliness: He was manifested in the flesh.”

The magnitude of this truth is such that even the highest orders of celestial beings, the “firstborn seraph,” cannot fully comprehend it. How much more, then, should we approach this mystery with humility and awe? As we contemplate the depths of divine love, we are reminded of our own limitations and the vastness of God’s wisdom and knowledge.

The Descent of Deity: Emptied of All But Love

The third verse of the hymn paints a vivid picture of Christ’s descent from glory:

“He left His Father’s throne above,
So free, so infinite His grace;
Emptied Himself of all but love,
And bled for Adam’s helpless race;”

These lines echo the beautiful passage in Philippians 2:6-8, where Paul describes how Christ, “being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross!”

Wesley’s portrayal of Christ emptying Himself of all but love is a profound theological statement. It speaks to the kenosis, the self-emptying of Christ, not as a diminishment of His divine nature, but as the fullest expression of it. For in this act of supreme humility and sacrifice, we see the very essence of God’s character revealed.

The Awakening of the Soul: From Darkness to Light

The fourth verse of “And Can It Be” describes the transformative power of God’s grace in the believer’s life:

“Long my imprisoned spirit lay
Fast bound in sin and nature’s night;
Thine eye diffused a quick’ning ray,
I woke, the dungeon flamed with light;
My chains fell off, my heart was free;
I rose, went forth and followed Thee.”

Here, Wesley draws on the imagery of imprisonment and liberation, darkness and light, to illustrate the radical change that occurs when a soul encounters the living Christ. This imagery is reminiscent of Peter’s miraculous release from prison in Acts 12, where chains fall off and iron gates open of their own accord.

But more than a mere physical liberation, Wesley is describing a spiritual awakening, a resurrection of the soul from the death of sin to the life of righteousness. It is the fulfillment of Ezekiel’s prophecy: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh” (Ezekiel 36:26).

The Assurance of Faith: No Condemnation

The final verse of the hymn speaks to the assurance that comes with faith in Christ:

“No condemnation now I dread;
Jesus, and all in Him is mine!
Alive in Him, my living Head,
And clothed in righteousness divine,
Bold I approach th’eternal throne,
And claim the crown, through Christ my own.”

These lines resonate with the triumphant declaration of Paul in Romans 8:1, “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” It is a statement of profound confidence, not in our own righteousness, but in the righteousness of Christ that has been imputed to us.

The imagery of being “clothed in righteousness divine” echoes Isaiah 61:10, “I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness.” It speaks to the complete transformation of our standing before God, from condemned sinners to beloved children.

The Continuing Impact: Wesley’s Legacy of Faith

Charles Wesley, along with his brother John, left an indelible mark on the landscape of Christian hymnody and theology. Their emphasis on personal faith, experiential religion, and the transformative power of God’s grace continues to shape the spiritual lives of believers around the world.

John Wesley, reflecting on the nature of faith, wrote in his sermon “The Scripture Way of Salvation”:

“Faith is the condition, and the only condition, of justification… It is the condition: none is justified but he that believes: without faith no man is justified. And it is the only condition: this alone is sufficient for justification. Every one that believes is justified, whatever else he has or has not.”

This understanding of faith as the sole condition for justification is beautifully captured in “And Can It Be,” particularly in the lines “Bold I approach th’eternal throne, And claim the crown, through Christ my own.” It is not our own merit that allows us to approach God’s throne, but the merit of Christ, appropriated through faith.

A Personal Reflection: Grappling with Amazing Love

As we contemplate the profound truths embedded in Wesley’s hymn, we are invited to engage in our own personal reflection. How do we respond to this “amazing love”? Do we, like Mary, ponder these things in our hearts (Luke 2:19)? Do we allow the magnitude of God’s love to transform not just our beliefs, but our very lives?

Perhaps, in the quiet moments of our lives, we too find ourselves whispering, “And can it be?” Can it be that the God of the universe would love me so deeply, so completely? Can it be that the Immortal would die for me, a frail and fallible creature?

These questions are not meant to instill doubt, but to awaken wonder. They are invitations to dive deeper into the ocean of God’s love, to explore its vast expanses and hidden depths. For in grappling with these questions, we come face to face with the very heart of the Gospel.

The Challenge of Faith: Living in Light of Amazing Love

The truths expressed in “And Can It Be” are not meant to be merely intellectual assents or emotional experiences. They are calls to action, invitations to live our lives in light of this amazing love. As John Wesley famously said, “Faith working by love is the length and breadth and depth and height of Christian perfection.”

How, then, do we live in response to this love? Perhaps it begins with gratitude, with hearts overflowing with thankfulness for the unmerited grace we have received. Perhaps it manifests in service, in pouring out our lives for others as Christ poured out His life for us. Perhaps it shows itself in worship, in lives lived as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God (Romans 12:1).

But beyond these outward expressions, living in light of God’s amazing love requires a fundamental reorientation of our hearts and minds. It calls us to see ourselves and others through the lens of God’s love, to recognize the infinite worth that God has bestowed upon each human soul. It challenges us to extend forgiveness as we have been forgiven, to show mercy as we have received mercy.

The Ongoing Mystery of Divine Love

As we come to the end of our meditation on “And Can It Be,” we find ourselves not at a point of conclusion, but at a new beginning. For the mystery of God’s love is not something to be solved, but to be lived in, to be explored for all eternity.

In the words of Charles Wesley from another of his hymns, “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling”:

“Finish, then, Thy new creation;
Pure and spotless let us be.
Let us see Thy great salvation
Perfectly restored in Thee;
Changed from glory into glory,
Till in heaven we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before Thee,
Lost in wonder, love, and praise.”

May we, like Wesley, find ourselves continually lost in wonder at the amazing love of God. May we, like Mary, ponder these things in our hearts. And may we, like all those who have encountered the living Christ, be transformed by the power of His love, forever echoing the refrain:

“Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, should die for me!”

Amen.

Christmas devotion: Sacrifice

Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “Listen carefully: This child is destined to be the cause of the falling and rising of many in Israel and to be a sign that will be rejected. Indeed, as a result of him the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed – and a sword will pierce your own soul as well!”

Mary, the mother of Jesus was blessed among women but she also carried a certain sadness since the birth of Jesus. The truth is when God calls us into a significant ministry, that ministry always comes with a significant price.

For Mary the price of being part of God’s plan was the terrible task of seeing her son rejected, beaten and eventually crucified. In the descriptive words of Simeon’s prophecy a sword did indeed pierce Mary’s soul.

The call of Christ should never be taken as easy. We are called to embrace our cross and follow him. It does cost us to follow him but he is worth everything we have.

Our hope for you today is that you count the cost of following Christ and commit to paying the price of discipleship.

In the quiet corners of our souls, where the echoes of our deepest sorrows and highest hopes intermingle, there lies a hymn that speaks to the very essence of the human condition. “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” penned by the esteemed American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, is not merely a festive carol, but a profound meditation on the tension between despair and hope, darkness and light, the brokenness of our world and the unshakeable promise of God’s peace.

As we embark on this journey through Longfellow’s poignant verses, let us open our hearts to the whispers of the Divine that resonate through his words. For in the delicate chimes of these metaphorical bells, we may find a balm for our wounded spirits and a rekindling of faith that has perhaps grown dim in the face of life’s tribulations.

To truly grasp the depth of Longfellow’s hymn, we must first understand the canvas of sorrow upon which it was painted. The poet’s life, once filled with the vibrant hues of joy and success, had been stained with the dark pigments of tragedy and loss.

Imagine, if you will, a man standing in the ashes of his former happiness. Longfellow’s beloved wife, Fanny, had perished in a horrific fire, leaving him not only widowed but also bearing the physical scars of his futile attempt to save her. The flames that consumed his love also seared his flesh, a constant reminder of his powerlessness in the face of fate’s cruel hand.

As if this cup of sorrow was not bitter enough, Longfellow’s son, Charles, had joined the Union Army during the American Civil War, departing without so much as a farewell to his father. The poet’s heart, already heavy with grief, now bore the additional weight of worry for his child amidst the brutal conflict that tore the nation asunder.

It was in this valley of shadows that Longfellow heard the Christmas bells, their joyous peals a stark contrast to the dirge playing in his soul. How hollow indeed must have sounded the angels’ promise of “peace on earth, goodwill to men” (Luke 2:14) to a man whose personal world lay in ruins.

As we contemplate Longfellow’s anguish, our minds are drawn to another father, separated from us by millennia yet united in the experience of helplessness in the face of violence and sorrow. Joseph, the earthly father of our Lord Jesus Christ, must have felt a similar weight upon his heart as he witnessed the horrific aftermath of Herod’s decree.

Picture the streets of Bethlehem, once alive with the bustle of the census, now eerily silent save for the heart-wrenching wails of mothers bereft of their children. The Scripture tells us, “A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more” (Matthew 2:18).

Joseph, entrusted with the care of the very Son of God, must have felt the crushing burden of this knowledge. How could the birth of the Prince of Peace coincide with such unfathomable violence? The cognitive dissonance between the angelic proclamations and the brutal reality of Herod’s massacre must have tested Joseph’s faith to its very limits.

In both Longfellow’s and Joseph’s experiences, we see the raw, unfiltered struggle of the human heart grappling with the seeming contradiction between God’s promises and the harsh realities of a fallen world. It is in this crucible of doubt and despair that the true strength of faith is forged.

“I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

As the hymn opens, we are greeted with a scene that is at once comforting and unsettling. The Christmas bells, with their “old, familiar carols,” represent the constancy of tradition, the cyclical nature of hope that returns year after year, regardless of our circumstances. Yet for Longfellow, and indeed for many of us in our darkest hours, this familiarity serves only to highlight the chasm between the ideal and the real.

The words “wild and sweet” paint a vivid picture of the dichotomy within the Christmas message itself. It is wild in its audacity—the claim that the infinite God would clothe Himself in finite flesh, that the Creator would become the created. And yet, it is sweet in its promise of reconciliation, of a love so profound that it bridges the gap between heaven and earth.

But oh, dear reader, how often have we found ourselves in Longfellow’s position, hearing these words of peace and goodwill as if from a great distance, separated from their comfort by the vast expanse of our own suffering?

“I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

Here, Longfellow expands his view, taking in not just his immediate surroundings but the entirety of Christendom. The “unbroken song” rolling from belfry to belfry creates a powerful image of unity and continuity. It speaks to the enduring nature of faith, which persists even when individual believers falter.

This verse calls to mind the words of the Psalmist: “Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge” (Psalm 19:2). Just as the heavens constantly declare the glory of God, so too do the bells of Christendom ceaselessly proclaim the message of Christ’s birth.

Yet, there is a subtle melancholy in Longfellow’s observation. The very unbrokenness of the song serves to emphasize the brokenness he feels within. It is a poignant reminder that even amidst the most joyous celebrations, there are those who suffer in silence, their pain unseen and unacknowledged by the revelers around them.

“And in despair I bowed my head;
‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said;
‘For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!'”

It is here, in the third verse, that we plumb the depths of Longfellow’s despair—and perhaps our own. The poet gives voice to the doubt that plagues us all in our darkest moments: the fear that evil might triumph, that hate might overpower love, that the promise of peace is nothing more than a beautiful but empty platitude.

In this moment of raw honesty, Longfellow echoes the laments found throughout Scripture. We are reminded of Jeremiah’s cry, “Why is my pain unending and my wound grievous and incurable?” (Jeremiah 15:18), or of the Psalmist’s anguish, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish?” (Psalm 22:1).

It is crucial that we do not shy away from these moments of doubt and despair, either in ourselves or in others. For it is often in the acknowledgment of our deepest fears that we create space for God to work, for hope to take root in the cracks of our broken hearts.

“Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
‘God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men.'”

Just when all seems lost, when despair threatens to engulf the poet entirely, the bells peal forth with renewed vigor. This fourth verse stands as a divine rebuttal to human doubt, a heavenly assurance that pierces through the darkest night of the soul.

“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep” — what a powerful affirmation of faith! It calls to mind the prophet Elijah’s contest with the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. When Baal failed to answer his prophets, Elijah taunted them, saying, “Shout louder! Surely he is a god! Perhaps he is deep in thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened” (1 Kings 18:27). But our God, the true and living God, neither slumbers nor sleeps (Psalm 121:4).

The assertion that “The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail” is not mere wishful thinking, but a confident declaration of God’s sovereignty and the ultimate triumph of His kingdom. It echoes the promise found in Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

This verse serves as a turning point, not just in the hymn, but potentially in the heart of the believer. It reminds us that our hope is not based on our circumstances or our feelings, but on the unchanging character of God and His eternal purposes.

“Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

In this final verse, we see the fruition of hope, the transition from night to day, from despair to joy. The imagery of the world revolving “from night to day” is particularly poignant, reminding us of the cyclical nature of life and faith. Just as surely as the night gives way to dawn, so too does sorrow eventually yield to joy for those who trust in the Lord.

The progression from “voice” to “chime” to “chant sublime” creates a sense of building momentum, of a hope that starts as a whisper and grows into a triumphant chorus. It brings to mind the words of the prophet Zechariah: “The Lord their God will save his people on that day as a shepherd saves his flock. They will sparkle in his land like jewels in a crown. How attractive and beautiful they will be!” (Zechariah 9:16-17).

As we come to the end of our reflection on Longfellow’s timeless hymn, we are left with a profound sense of the tension that exists at the very heart of the Christian faith. It is a tension between the “already” and the “not yet,” between the peace that Christ has secured for us through His death and resurrection, and the peace we still await in its fullness at His return.

“I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” does not shy away from the reality of suffering and doubt. Instead, it confronts these challenges head-on, allowing us to voice our deepest fears and most painful questions. Yet it does not leave us there, in the valley of the shadow. Like the Psalmist who begins in lament but ends in praise, Longfellow’s hymn leads us from the depths of despair to the heights of hope.

In a world that often seems dominated by darkness, where the news cycle is an endless parade of tragedy and conflict, where our personal lives may be marked by loss and pain, this hymn serves as a clarion call to remember the bigger picture. It reminds us that beyond the immediate horizon of our circumstances lies the vast expanse of God’s eternal purposes.

As we listen to the Christmas bells, whether in joy or in sorrow, may we be reminded of the words of the apostle Paul: “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17-18).

Let us, like Longfellow, allow the message of Christmas to penetrate the hardest shells of our doubt and despair. Let us cling to the promise that God is indeed not dead, nor does He sleep. And let us join our voices with the eternal chant, sublime and unbroken, of peace on earth and goodwill to all.

For in the end, it is not the strength of our faith that sustains us, but the faithfulness of the One in whom we believe. The bells of Christmas ring out this truth: that in the person of Jesus Christ, God has entered into our suffering, redeemed our sorrows, and promised a future where every tear will be wiped away and all things will be made new.

As we face the challenges of our lives and our world, may we hold fast to this hope, allowing it to transform our perspective and empower our living. For the message of the Christmas bells is not just for a season, but for all time—a constant reminder that even in our darkest night, the dawn of God’s love is breaking upon the horizon.

Christmas devotion: Egypt

After Herod had died, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt saying, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.”

A wise man once said, “God’s Word tends to outlive its pallbearers.” A true work of God will outlive all its enemies. God was determined to provide a way to bring lost and hurting people into His family. Even though the world was determined to reject and destroy God’s wonderful gift, God would have His way.

This is the depth of God’s love for us. What will separate us from the love of God? Will trouble, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger? None of these things can defeat God’s plan. Neither can death, nor life, nor angels, nor heavenly rulers, nor things that are present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in creation nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Our hope for you today is that you live in the confidence that what God has promised He will do!

The Earthly and the Eternal: Herod’s Folly and Christ’s Kingdom

In the hushed corridors of time, where the echoes of history intertwine with the whispers of eternity, we find ourselves contemplating a hymn that resonates with profound spiritual truth. “Why, Herod, Unrelenting Foe,” penned by the illustrious reformer Martin Luther, invites us to embark on a journey of introspection and divine revelation. As we delve into its verses, let us open our hearts to the gentle rebuke and the comforting embrace of God’s wisdom.

Herod, a name that evokes images of earthly power and misguided ambition, stands as a stark reminder of the transient nature of worldly pursuits. In the first stanza, Luther poses a poignant question:

“Why, Herod, unrelenting foe!
Doth Christ the Lord’s birth move thee so?”

Here, we are confronted with the paradox of human nature – how often do we, like Herod, find ourselves threatened by the very thing that offers us salvation? The birth of Christ, a moment of cosmic significance, stirred fear in the heart of a king who could only perceive it through the lens of earthly power dynamics.

Luther, in his commentary on Galatians, reminds us, “The world with all its wisdom, power, and righteousness is offended by the Gospel.” How true this rings, even in our modern context! The offense of the Gospel lies in its power to upend our carefully constructed hierarchies and self-aggrandizing schemes.

As we reflect on Herod’s reaction, we must turn the mirror upon ourselves. How often do we resist the transformative power of Christ in our lives, clinging instead to the familiar comforts of our self-made kingdoms? The Apostle Paul’s words in Philippians 3:20 serve as a gentle yet firm reminder: “But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.”

The Guiding Star: Wisdom’s Journey to True Light

The second stanza of Luther’s hymn paints a vivid picture of spiritual enlightenment:

“The star before the wise men goes,
This light to them the true Light shows;”

Here, we are invited to contemplate the journey of the Magi, those seekers of truth who followed a celestial guide to the source of all wisdom. This cosmic signpost, a mere creation, pointed to the Creator Himself. How often do we miss the divine signposts in our own lives, failing to see that all of creation testifies to its Maker?

Luther, in one of his sermons, proclaimed, “The star was not a natural star, but a supernatural sign from God.” This supernatural intervention in the natural order serves as a metaphor for God’s continuous reaching out to humanity. Just as the star guided the wise men to Christ, so does God’s Spirit guide us to deeper truths and closer communion with Him.

The journey of the Magi reminds us of our own spiritual pilgrimage. We, too, are called to follow the light of Christ, even when it leads us away from the familiar and comfortable. As Jesus declared in John 8:12, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

The Triune Gift: Acknowledging the Fullness of Christ

The latter part of the second stanza introduces a profound theological concept:

“They, by the three gifts which they bring,
Declare this Child: God, Man, and King.”

Here, Luther masterfully weaves the significance of the Magi’s gifts into a declaration of Christ’s nature. Gold for a King, frankincense for God, and myrrh for the Man who would die. In these gifts, we see a foreshadowing of Christ’s full identity and mission.

Luther, in his Christmas sermon of 1521, expounded on this, saying, “The gifts of the wise men signify confession, prayer, and mortification.” In this light, we are called to offer our own gifts to Christ – the gold of our obedience, the frankincense of our worship, and the myrrh of our willingness to die to self.

This triune nature of Christ – God, Man, and King – invites us into a deeper understanding of the Incarnation. As we contemplate this mystery, let us be reminded of Paul’s words in Colossians 2:9, “For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form.”

The Cleansing Waters: Baptism and Redemption

The third stanza of Luther’s hymn shifts our focus to the baptism of Christ:

“He was baptized in Jordan’s flood,
The holy, heavenly Lamb of God,
And He, who did no sin, thereby
Cleansed us from all iniquity!”

In this powerful imagery, we see the sinless One submitting Himself to a ritual of repentance, not for His own sake, but for ours. The waters of the Jordan become a symbol of God’s cleansing power, available to all who would receive it.

Luther, in his treatise on baptism, wrote, “Baptism signifies that the old Adam in us should, by daily contrition and repentance, be drowned and die with all sins and evil lusts, and, again, a new man daily come forth and arise; who shall live before God in righteousness and purity forever.”

This stanza serves as a gentle rebuke to those who might take their baptism lightly or forget its significance. It calls us to remember that in Christ’s baptism, we find our own – a daily dying to self and rising to new life in Him. As Paul reminds us in Romans 6:4, “We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.”

The Miracle of Transformation: Water into Wine

The fourth stanza of Luther’s hymn brings us to the wedding at Cana:

“And now a miracle is done:
Six water pots are there of stone,
Christ speaks the word with power divine–
The water changes into wine.”

This first public miracle of Jesus serves as a powerful metaphor for the transformative power of Christ in our lives. Just as ordinary water was turned into the finest wine, so too can our mundane existence be infused with divine purpose and joy.

Luther, in his commentary on John, notes, “This miracle signifies that Christ changes our water into wine, that is, He turns our sorrow into joy, our tears into laughter, our poverty into wealth, our death into life, our sin into righteousness, and our misery into bliss.”

As we reflect on this miracle, let us ask ourselves: What areas of our lives are still filled with the water of ordinary existence? Where do we need Christ’s transformative touch to turn our mundane into the miraculous? Remember the words of Paul in 2 Corinthians 5:17, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”

The Eternal Doxology: Praise Beyond Time

The final stanza of Luther’s hymn is a doxology, a song of praise that transcends time:

“All honor, praise to Thee be paid,
O Christ, born of the virgin maid,
With Father and with Holy Ghost,
Till time in endless time be lost.”

In these lines, we are reminded of the eternal nature of Christ and the unending praise that is His due. The mention of Christ’s virgin birth harkens back to the miracle of the Incarnation, while the inclusion of the Father and Holy Spirit completes the Trinitarian formula.

Luther, in his explanation of the Apostles’ Creed, wrote, “I believe that Jesus Christ, true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, and also true man, born of the Virgin Mary, is my Lord.” This confession of faith echoes through the ages, inviting us to join in the eternal chorus of praise.

As we contemplate this final stanza, let us be reminded of the words in Revelation 5:13, “Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, saying: ‘To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!'”

A Call to Heavenly Citizenship

As we come to the end of our meditation on Luther’s profound hymn, we are left with a pressing question: Where does our ultimate allegiance lie? Are we, like Herod, clinging to the fleeting kingdoms of this world, or are we aligning ourselves with the eternal Kingdom of God?

Luther’s hymn serves as both a gentle rebuke and a comforting reminder. It challenges us to lift our eyes from earthly pursuits and fix them on heavenly realities. It invites us to follow the true Light, to offer our gifts in worship, to embrace the cleansing power of Christ, and to allow Him to transform the ordinary aspects of our lives into something extraordinary.

As we navigate the complexities of our earthly existence, let us hold fast to the truth that our ultimate citizenship is in heaven. May we, like the wise men, be willing to embark on journeys of faith, following the divine light that leads us to Christ. May we, like Christ at His baptism, be willing to submit ourselves fully to God’s will, dying daily to sin and rising to new life. And may we, like the water turned to wine, allow Christ’s transformative power to work in every aspect of our being.

In the words of Luther himself, “Faith is a living, bold trust in God’s grace, so certain of God’s favor that it would risk death a thousand times trusting in it.” Let this be our anthem as we seek to secure our heavenly citizenship, knowing that all earthly kingdoms will fade, but the Kingdom of God endures forever.

As we close our reflection, let the words of this hymn echo in our hearts, calling us to a deeper faith, a more profound worship, and a life lived in the light of eternity. May we, like Luther, find the courage to stand firm in our faith, to challenge the powers of this world, and to cling unwaveringly to the promise of our heavenly home.

In the face of earthly trials and temptations, may we always remember that we are citizens of a Kingdom that cannot be shaken. And may our lives be a continuous doxology, offering praise to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, until time itself is lost in the endless expanse of eternity.

Amen.

Christmas devotional: Dream

An angel of God spoke to Joseph in a dream warning him about danger. We could learn a lot from Joseph’s actions. As soon as he heard from God he obeyed. Joseph did not even wait for daylight, he left during the night.

It is important to take Joseph’s example. When we hear from God our next action should be to do what He says.

Our hope for you today is that God’s desire will be your desire and that you do not delay in your obedience to Him.

The Frost of Humanity’s Heart

In the quiet solitude of our inner chambers, where the whispers of eternity echo softly against the walls of our souls, we find ourselves drawn to the haunting beauty of Christina Rossetti’s “In the Bleak Midwinter.” Like a delicate snowflake alighting upon the windowsill of our consciousness, this hymn invites us to pause and contemplate the profound mystery of the Incarnation.

“In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;”

These opening lines paint a stark picture of a world gripped by winter’s unforgiving embrace. Yet, dear seeker, let us look beyond the literal and peer into the spiritual landscape that Rossetti so masterfully evokes. Is not this bleak midwinter a reflection of the human heart before the warmth of Christ’s love penetrates its depths?

The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, reminds us of our condition before grace intervened: “And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked” (Ephesians 2:1-2, ESV). Like the earth “hard as iron” and water “like a stone,” our hearts were once frozen, unyielding to the gentle touch of divine love.

But take heart, beloved, for even in this bleakness, hope stirs. For it is precisely into such a world – into such hearts – that Christ chose to enter. The prophet Isaiah foretold this miraculous advent: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone” (Isaiah 9:2, ESV).

The Descent of Divinity

“Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain;
heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign.”

In these lines, Rossetti captures the awe-inspiring paradox of the Incarnation. The infinite God, whom “heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain” (1 Kings 8:27, ESV), willingly constrains Himself to the form of a helpless babe. The One before whom “earth will shake and the heavens tremble” (Joel 2:10, ESV) enters our realm not with the thunderous acclaim of royalty, but with the quiet whimper of an infant.

Beloved, let us pause here and allow the weight of this truth to settle upon our hearts like fresh-fallen snow. The God who spoke the universe into existence, whose very breath kindled the stars, chose to draw His first earthly breath in the humble confines of a stable. What unfathomable love is this?

The Apostle John, in his gospel, articulates this mystery with profound simplicity: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14, ESV). The Greek word translated as “dwelt” – eskēnōsen – literally means “to pitch a tent.” Our Lord, the King of Kings, pitched His tent among us, choosing to make His dwelling in the midst of our brokenness and need.

The Sufficiency of Simplicity

“In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.”

Here, in the economy of two short lines, Rossetti presents us with a truth so profound it threatens to overwhelm our finite understanding. The Lord God Almighty, He who “sits enthroned above the circle of the earth” (Isaiah 40:22, ESV), finds a stable sufficient. What a rebuke to our endless striving for more, for better, for grander!

Dearest reader, how often do we fall into the trap of believing that we must somehow make ourselves worthy before approaching God? How frequently do we labor under the misapprehension that our offerings must be elaborate, our prayers eloquent, our service spectacular? Yet here, in the quiet simplicity of a stable, we find a God who is content with the meager offerings of humanity.

The Psalmist reminds us, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalm 51:17, ESV). It is not the grandeur of our gestures that moves the heart of God, but the sincere offering of ourselves, just as we are.

The Celestial Chorus and the Intimate Adoration

“Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
but his mother only, in her maiden bliss,
worshiped the beloved with a kiss.”

In these lines, Rossetti presents us with a beautiful juxtaposition – the grand celestial chorus of angels and the intimate, tender worship of a mother. The heavenly host, those mighty beings who stand in the very presence of God, gather to herald the birth of the Savior. Yet, in the midst of this cosmic celebration, we find a moment of profound intimacy – a mother’s kiss.

Dear one, do you see the beautiful truth hidden within these verses? The God who receives the adoration of angelic beings delights equally in the simple, heartfelt worship of His children. The letter to the Hebrews tells us that Jesus is “not ashamed to call them brothers” (Hebrews 2:11, ESV), speaking of those who are sanctified by His sacrifice.

Consider for a moment the implications of this truth. The same God who receives the ceaseless praise of seraphim and cherubim invites us into an intimate relationship with Him. As the Apostle John writes, “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are” (1 John 3:1, ESV).

The Gift of the 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.”

We arrive now at the crux of Rossetti’s hymn, the lines that have stirred the hearts of believers for generations. In these simple yet profound words, we find echoed the cry of every sincere seeker: “What can I offer to the King of Kings?”

Beloved, let us sit with this question for a moment, allowing it to penetrate the depths of our being. How often do we find ourselves paralyzed by the perceived inadequacy of our offerings? How frequently do we hesitate to approach the throne of grace, feeling that we have nothing of worth to bring?

Yet, in her wisdom, Rossetti reminds us of the one gift that surpasses all others – the gift of our heart. This truth resonates deeply with the words of Scripture. The book of Proverbs tells us, “My son, give me your heart, and let your eyes observe my ways” (Proverbs 23:26, ESV). It is not grand gestures or material offerings that God desires, but the sincere devotion of our hearts.

Consider the words of the prophet Joel: “Yet even now,” declares the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; and rend your hearts and not your garments” (Joel 2:12-13, ESV). It is the inward reality, not the outward show, that moves the heart of God.

The Paradox of Divine Love

As we reflect on Rossetti’s beautiful hymn, we are confronted with the glorious paradox of divine love. The God who needs nothing chooses us. The King of the universe finds a stable sufficient. The One who receives the worship of angels delights in a mother’s kiss.

Dear seeker, can you fathom the depths of this love? Can you comprehend the height and breadth and length of Christ’s affection for you? The Apostle Paul prayed that the Ephesians might have strength to comprehend “what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge” (Ephesians 3:18-19, ESV).

This love, manifested in the humble birth we celebrate at Christmas, reaches its culmination at the cross. For it is there that Christ gave not just His comfort or His throne, but His very life for us. “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13, ESV).

Our Response: The Gift of the Heart

In light of this incomprehensible love, how then shall we respond? Rossetti provides us with the answer – we give our hearts. But what does this mean in practical terms?

To give our heart is to surrender our will to His. It is to echo the words of Mary, the mother of Jesus, who said, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38, ESV). It is to follow the example of the disciples who, when called, “immediately they left their nets and followed him” (Mark 1:18, ESV).

Giving our heart means allowing God to transform us from the inside out. As Paul writes, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind” (Romans 12:2, ESV). It means submitting our thoughts, our desires, our ambitions to His perfect will.

But let us not be mistaken – this giving of the heart is not a one-time event, but a daily, moment-by-moment surrender. It is a continual choosing of God’s ways over our own, a constant turning towards His light even when the bleakness of midwinter threatens to overwhelm us.

The Ongoing Incarnation

As we conclude our reflection on “In the Bleak Midwinter,” let us consider one final, transformative truth. The Incarnation – God taking on human flesh – was not a one-time historical event, but an ongoing reality in the lives of believers.

The Apostle Paul tells us that we are “the body of Christ” (1 Corinthians 12:27, ESV). In a very real sense, we are called to be the ongoing incarnation of Christ in this world. As we give our hearts to Him, as we allow His love to transform us, we become His hands and feet, His voice of comfort and challenge to a world still gripped by the bleak midwinter of sin and separation from God.

Dear one, as you go forth from this moment of reflection, consider how you might embody the love of Christ in your daily life. How might you bring warmth to those frozen in despair? How might you offer living water to those whose hearts have become like stone?

Remember the words of Jesus: “As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you” (John 20:21, ESV). You are sent as a bearer of light, a vessel of grace, a living testament to the transformative power of divine love.

In closing, let us return once more to Rossetti’s poignant question: “What can I give Him?” And let our answer resound through the chambers of our hearts and echo into eternity: “I give my heart, Lord. I give my all.”

May the God who entered our bleak midwinter fill you with the warmth of His presence, the joy of His salvation, and the peace that passes all understanding. And may you, in turn, be a bearer of that warmth, joy, and peace to a world in desperate need of His love.

Amen.

Christmas devotion: Shepherds

When the angels left them and went back to heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, that the Lord has made known to us.” So they hurried off and located Mary and Joseph, and found the baby lying in a manger. When they saw him, they related what they had been told about this child, and all who heard it were astonished at what the shepherds said.

Scum of the earth! The people who worked as shepherds in the fields around Bethlehem during the time of the first Christmas were considered to be the lowest of the low. They had a reputation for being dishonest and crude. They were the sort of people who should be avoided. Yet, when the Holy God of all creation announced the birth of His Son it was to these reprobates that He sent His Angels.

The ears who heard the first Gospel message belonged to the people who most needed a Savior. This is the loving nature of God! He is quick to seek out those who need Him most. He brings the improbable into His family.

Our hope for you today is that you will see others through the eyes of God. No one is too far away from God to be saved.

In the vast tapestry of God’s divine plan, we often find ourselves marveling at the unexpected threads He chooses to weave His message. Such is the case with Josiah G. Holland, a journalist whose pen became the instrument through which a beloved Christmas hymn would flow. “There is a song in the air” stands as a testament to the truth that our Lord’s wisdom surpasses our limited understanding, for He often selects the most unlikely vessels to carry His most profound messages.

As we reflect on Holland’s role in crafting this hymn, we are gently reminded of the words in 1 Corinthians 1:27, “But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.” How often do we, in our human frailty, place limitations on who we believe God can use? Yet, here we stand, centuries later, still singing the words penned by a man whose primary calling was not to the pulpit, but to the printing press.

As we delve deeper into the rich tapestry of Holland’s hymn, we are confronted with a profound truth: God’s work is not confined to the hallowed halls of seminaries or the polished pews of our churches. His symphony of creation resounds through the lives of all believers, regardless of their station in life. The Apostle Paul reminds us in Ephesians 2:10, “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

Consider, dear reader, the humble shepherds on that first Christmas night. These simple men, often overlooked and undervalued by society, were chosen to be the first bearers of the greatest news humanity would ever receive. Luke 2:8-11 paints this scene with vivid strokes: “And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.'”

Let us now turn our attention to the hymn itself, a lyrical masterpiece that captures the essence of that holy night with breathtaking beauty. Holland begins with the evocative line, “There’s a song in the air!” Immediately, we are transported to a world where the very atmosphere vibrates with divine energy. This is not merely a physical song, but a spiritual resonance that permeates creation itself.

As we continue, we encounter the imagery of a star in the sky, a mother’s deep prayer, and a baby’s low cry. In these few words, Holland encapsulates the cosmic and the intimate, the divine and the human. The star, reminiscent of the one that guided the Magi, serves as a beacon of hope and divine guidance. Matthew 2:2 recalls the words of the wise men: “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Holland’s hymn is its portrayal of the divine paradox: the King of Kings, cradled in a humble manger. This imagery challenges our preconceptions of power and majesty, forcing us to confront the radical nature of God’s love. As Holland writes, “for the manger of Bethlehem cradles a King!”

This paradox is at the heart of the Christian faith. The Creator of the universe, choosing to enter His creation as a vulnerable infant, born in the most humble of circumstances. It is a truth that should shake us to our core, compelling us to reevaluate our understanding of power, love, and sacrifice.

Holland’s second verse speaks of a “tumult of joy o’er the wonderful birth.” This is not a quiet, subdued happiness, but an overwhelming, all-encompassing joy that sweeps over the earth. It is the appropriate response to the realization that the “virgin’s sweet boy is the Lord of the earth.”

This joy is not confined to a select few, but is available to all who recognize the significance of this birth. As the angels proclaimed to the shepherds in Luke 2:10-11, “I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.”

In the third verse, Holland paints a picture of the ages “impearled” in the light of the star. This imagery speaks to Christ as the fulfillment of prophecy, the long-awaited Messiah whose coming was foretold throughout the Old Testament. Isaiah 9:6 proclaims, “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

The song that has “swept over the world” is the Gospel message, the good news of salvation that has indeed spread to the farthest corners of the earth. As Jesus commanded in Mark 16:15, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.”

Holland’s hymn culminates in a powerful declaration of Christ’s kingship over all nations. “Every hearth is aflame, and the beautiful sing in the homes of the nations that Jesus is King!” This line speaks to the universal nature of Christ’s reign, transcending cultural and national boundaries.

This truth aligns perfectly with Revelation 7:9-10, which describes a great multitude “from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: ‘Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.'”

In the final verse, Holland invites us to join in the celestial celebration. We are called to “rejoice in the light, and we echo the song that comes down through the night from the heavenly throng.” This is not a passive observation of Christ’s birth, but an active participation in the joy and worship it inspires.

As we sing this hymn, we are joining our voices with the angels who proclaimed, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests” (Luke 2:14). We are entering into a timeless celebration of God’s love and grace, manifested in the birth of our Savior.

As we reflect on Holland’s hymn and the circumstances of its creation, we are reminded of a fundamental truth: God has a plan for each of His children, regardless of their occupation or social standing. Just as He used a journalist to pen a timeless hymn, and shepherds to spread the news of Christ’s birth, He desires to use each of us in unique and powerful ways.

The Apostle Peter reminds us in 1 Peter 4:10, “Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.” This truth should both challenge and encourage us. It challenges us to step out in faith, to be open to God’s leading in our lives, even when it may seem unconventional or unexpected. It encourages us with the knowledge that we are all valuable and necessary parts of God’s grand design.

Holland’s hymn serves as a poignant reminder that God does not require us to be polished speakers or respected leaders to share His message. He simply asks for willing hearts, ready to be used for His glory. The shepherds, in their haste and excitement, “spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child” (Luke 2:17). Their qualification was not their eloquence or social status, but their firsthand encounter with the living God.

In the same way, we are called to share the good news of Christ’s birth, life, death, and resurrection with those around us. Our qualification is not our own righteousness or ability, but the transforming work of Christ in our lives. As Paul declares in 2 Corinthians 5:20, “We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.”

As we conclude our reflection on “There is a song in the air,” let us remember that we are not merely audience members in God’s grand symphony. We are active participants, each with our own unique part to play. The song that began in Bethlehem continues to resound through the ages, and we are invited to add our voices to its eternal melody.

May we, like Josiah G. Holland, be open to the unexpected ways God may choose to use us. May we, like the shepherds, be quick to share the good news we have received. And may we, like the angels, never cease to proclaim the glory of our King.

As we sing this beloved hymn this Christmas season and beyond, let it serve as a reminder of our calling and our joy. For indeed, there is a song in the air – a song of hope, of love, and of salvation. And in the humble manger of our hearts, may we too cradle our Savior and King.

In the words of Josiah G. Holland himself, “Ideals are like stars; you will not succeed in touching them with your hands. But like the seafaring man on the desert of waters, you choose them as your guides, and following them you will reach your destiny.”

May the star of Bethlehem, the song in the air, and the King in the manger guide us all to our eternal destiny in Christ. Amen.

Christmas devotion: Angels

Now there were shepherds nearby living out in the field, keeping guard over their flock at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were absolutely terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid! Listen carefully, for I proclaim to you good news that brings great joy to all the people: Today your Savior is born in the city of David. He is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: You will find a baby wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a vast, heavenly army appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among people with whom he is pleased!”

The voices of God’s angels were the first to carry the good news of salvation to the ears of God’s lost creation. The good news brings great joy and peace to all who believe.

After the Angelic voices faded into the memory of the shepherds the responsibility of the message was given to those who first heard it. This is the pattern that God has used throughout history to reach each generation with the good news. We who have heard, we who have been saved by Christ must be the ones who proclaim God’s vast invitation. His message must be on our lips!

Our hope for you today is that you will be the source of good news to someone who needs to hear about God’s Salvation.

The Tapestry of Divine Orchestration

In the grand theater of God’s redemptive plan, few narratives captivate the human imagination quite like the journey of the Magi. John Henry Hopkins Jr., in his timeless hymn “We Three Kings of Orient Are,” weaves a tapestry of divine orchestration that invites us to traverse not only the physical landscapes of the ancient Near East but also the spiritual topography of our own hearts.

As we embark on this exploration, let us pause and consider: Are we, like these wise men of old, willing to undertake arduous journeys in pursuit of divine truth? Or have we become complacent, content with the familiar contours of our faith, unwilling to venture into the unknown?

The Call of the Star: A Summons to the Seekers

“We three kings of Orient are; bearing gifts we traverse afar, field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star.”

In these opening lines, Hopkins paints a vivid picture of determination and devotion. The Magi, learned men from the East, embark on a perilous journey guided by nothing more than a celestial phenomenon. This star, this beacon of hope, serves as a profound metaphor for God’s calling in our lives.

Consider the prophet Isaiah’s words: “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you” (Isaiah 60:1). Just as the star guided the Magi, God’s light beckons us, calling us out of our comfort zones and into a journey of faith.

But let us probe deeper. How often do we, in our modern lives, miss the “stars” God places in our path? Are we too consumed by the glare of our screens, the noise of our ambitions, to notice the subtle signs of divine guidance?

The Refrain of Wonder: An Anthem of Awe

“O star of wonder, star of light, star with royal beauty bright, westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light.”

In this refrain, Hopkins captures the essence of spiritual seeking – a combination of awe, guidance, and the promise of perfection. The star is not merely a navigational tool; it is a source of wonder, a testament to the beauty and mystery of God’s creation.

The Psalmist declares, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands” (Psalm 19:1). In the Magi’s journey, we see a beautiful interplay between natural revelation and special revelation. The star, a part of God’s created order, leads to the ultimate revelation – the incarnate Christ.

As we sing this refrain, let us examine our hearts. Have we lost our sense of wonder? Has familiarity with the Gospel story dulled our appreciation for its profound mystery? Perhaps it’s time to rekindle that childlike awe, to look upon the world with fresh eyes, seeing in every sunset and starry night a reflection of God’s glory.

The Gift of Gold: Acknowledging the King

“Born a King on Bethlehem’s plain, gold I bring to crown him again, King forever, ceasing never, over us all to reign.”

In this verse, Hopkins introduces the first of the Magi’s gifts – gold, a symbol of kingship. The offering of gold to the Christ child is a profound act of recognition and submission. It acknowledges Jesus not as a mere babe in a manger, but as the King of Kings, the fulfillment of ancient prophecies.

The prophet Micah foretold, “But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times” (Micah 5:2). The Magi’s gift of gold is a tangible affirmation of this prophecy.

But let us turn the mirror upon ourselves. Do we truly acknowledge Christ’s kingship in our lives? It’s easy to sing of Jesus as King on Sunday mornings, but do our Monday actions reflect this belief? Are we willing to lay our “gold” – our resources, our ambitions, our very selves – at His feet?

The Offering of Frankincense: Recognizing Deity

“Frankincense to offer have I; incense owns a Deity nigh; prayer and praising, voices raising, worshiping God on high.”

In this verse, Hopkins introduces the second gift – frankincense, a symbol of deity. This aromatic resin, used in temple worship, acknowledges Jesus not just as King, but as God incarnate. It’s a profound theological statement wrapped in the simplicity of a gift.

The apostle John writes, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). The offering of frankincense is a recognition of this divine mystery – that the babe in the manger is none other than the eternal Word made flesh.

This verse challenges us to examine the nature of our worship. Is our acknowledgment of Christ’s deity merely intellectual, or does it permeate our daily lives? Do we offer the “frankincense” of our prayers and praises not just in formal worship, but in the ordinary moments of our days?

The Prophecy of Myrrh: Foreseeing Sacrifice

“Myrrh is mine; its bitter perfume breathes a life of gathering gloom; sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying, sealed in the stone-cold tomb.”

Here, Hopkins introduces a somber note with the gift of myrrh. This fragrant resin, used in embalming, foreshadows Christ’s sacrificial death. It’s a jarring juxtaposition – a gift fit for burial presented to a newborn king.

The prophet Isaiah, centuries earlier, had painted a vivid picture of the suffering servant: “He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain” (Isaiah 53:3). The gift of myrrh is a poignant recognition of this prophetic reality.

This verse invites us to confront the full implications of the incarnation. Are we willing to embrace not just the joy of Christ’s birth, but also the sorrow of His death? Do we recognize that the manger and the cross are inseparable in God’s redemptive plan?

The Triumphant Conclusion: Resurrection and Praise

“Glorious now behold him arise; King and God and sacrifice: Alleluia, Alleluia, sounds through the earth and skies.”

In this final verse, Hopkins brings the narrative full circle. The King who was born, the God who was worshipped, the Sacrifice who died, now rises in glory. It’s a triumphant conclusion that echoes the words of the apostle Paul: “And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name” (Philippians 2:8-9).

This verse challenges us to live in the light of the resurrection. Do our lives reflect the joy and power of Christ’s victory over death? Are we joining in the cosmic chorus of praise that sounds “through the earth and skies”?

The Journey Continues: Our Response to the Magi’s Tale

As we conclude our exploration of “We Three Kings,” we find ourselves not at an end, but at a beginning. The journey of the Magi serves as both historical account and spiritual metaphor, inviting us to embark on our own quests of faith and discovery.

Like the Magi, we are called to be seekers, following the “stars” God places in our lives, even when the journey is arduous and the destination uncertain. We are challenged to bring our gifts – not just gold, frankincense, and myrrh, but the offering of our very selves – and lay them at the feet of the King.

We are invited to worship with awe and wonder, recognizing in the Christ child both the King who reigns and the God who saves. We are called to embrace the full narrative of salvation, from the joy of the nativity to the sorrow of the cross, and the triumph of the resurrection.

As we sing this beloved hymn, let it be more than a quaint Christmas tradition. Let it be a call to action, a summons to deeper faith, and an invitation to join in the grand narrative of God’s redemptive plan.

For in the end, the story of the Magi is our story too. We are all seekers, all pilgrims on a journey. May we, like those wise men of old, have the courage to follow the star, the wisdom to recognize the King, and the faith to offer our lives in worship and service.

As John Henry Hopkins Jr. so beautifully captured in his hymn, may we continue “westward leading, still proceeding,” guided by the perfect light of Christ, until that glorious day when we too shall behold Him arise, King and God and Sacrifice, and join in the eternal Alleluia that sounds through earth and sky.

The Eternal Relevance: Why “We Three Kings” Still Resonates

As we draw our exploration to a close, it’s worth pondering why this 19th-century hymn continues to captivate hearts and minds in the 21st century. Perhaps it’s because the journey of the Magi speaks to a universal human longing – the quest for meaning, purpose, and ultimate truth.

In an age of instant gratification and quick fixes, “We Three Kings” reminds us of the value of patient seeking. The Magi’s journey was not a sprint but a marathon, requiring perseverance, faith, and hope. In a world that often prioritizes speed over depth, this hymn calls us back to the slow, steady work of spiritual growth and discovery.

Moreover, in a time when materialism often overshadows the true meaning of Christmas, this hymn refocuses our attention on the profound theological truths embodied in the nativity story. It reminds us that the real gift of Christmas is not found under a tree, but in a manger – the gift of God Himself, come to dwell among us.

A Call to Contemporary Magi

As we conclude, let us consider: What does it mean to be a “wise man” or “wise woman” in our current age? Perhaps it means having the discernment to see beyond the glitter and noise of our consumer culture to the true star that guides us to Christ. Perhaps it means being willing to embark on difficult journeys of faith, even when the destination is unclear.

Maybe being a modern-day Magi means offering our own gifts to Christ – not gold, frankincense, and myrrh, but the gifts of our talents, our resources, our very selves. It might mean having the courage to acknowledge Christ as King in a world that often rejects His authority, to worship Him as God in a culture that frequently dismisses the divine, and to embrace His sacrifice in a society that shies away from the concept of redemption through suffering.

As we sing “We Three Kings” this Christmas season and beyond, let it be more than a nostalgic carol. Let it be a challenge, a call to action, an invitation to embark on our own journeys of faith. For the star still shines, the King still reigns, and the journey of discovery and worship continues.

May we, like the Magi of old, have the wisdom to seek, the courage to journey, and the faith to worship. And may we, in our seeking and finding, become beacons ourselves, guiding others to the perfect light of Christ.

For in the end, the story of Christmas, so beautifully encapsulated in Hopkins’ hymn, is not just a tale of what was, but a call to what can be. It’s an invitation to each of us to become part of the ongoing story of God’s redemptive work in the world.

As we close, let the words of the refrain echo in our hearts and guide our steps:

“O star of wonder, star of light,

star with royal beauty bright,

westward leading, still proceeding,

guide us to thy perfect light.”

May this be our prayer, our purpose, and our lifelong pursuit. Amen.

Christmas devotion: Wise

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, in the time of King Herod, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem saying, “Where is the one who is born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

What God did, He did not do in secret. When God sent His Son to become flesh and fulfill His promise He sent ripples throughout the world. The wise men who came to worship Jesus were Astrologers, they were actively practicing a forbidden and false religion that placed people under the control of stars and other heavenly bodies. It was an act of grace that God spoke to them by a means that they could understand. They saw his star and came to worship Christ.

This is the very essence of the incarnation, the very reason God became flesh and dwelt among us. God, in his grace and mercy came to our level, spoke our language, experienced our lives so that we could understand his offer of Salvation.

Our hope for you today is that you, like the wise men, will seek to worship Christ.

The Whisper of Joy in a World of Sorrow

In the quiet corners of our hearts, where the echoes of eternity resound, there lies a hymn so profound, so transformative, that it has become a beacon of light for countless souls seeking solace in the embrace of divine love. “Joy Unspeakable,” penned by the prolific hymnist Barney E. Warren, stands as a testament to the ineffable bliss that springs forth from a heart in communion with its Creator.

As we embark on this spiritual odyssey, dear seeker, let us pause and allow the weight of Warren’s words to settle upon our souls like dew on morning grass. In a world often shrouded in shadows of despair, where the cacophony of human suffering threatens to drown out the whispers of hope, “Joy Unspeakable” emerges as a clarion call to the weary heart, a reminder of the transcendent joy that awaits those who dare to believe.

Barney E. Warren: The Joyful Psalmist

Before we delve into the depths of this hymn, let us first turn our gaze to the man behind the melody. Barney E. Warren, a name perhaps unfamiliar to many, yet a spiritual giant whose pen became the conduit for divine inspiration. With over 2000 hymns to his name, Warren stands as a colossus in the realm of sacred music, his works a living testament to the power of faith expressed through song.

In an era where somber hymns often dominated the spiritual landscape, Warren dared to infuse his compositions with an unbridled joy that was as refreshing as it was revolutionary. His hymns, like streams of living water, flowed with a vibrancy that spoke of a faith not confined to solemn rituals, but one that danced in the light of God’s love.

Yet, let us not mistake Warren’s joyous compositions for mere frivolity. For in the tapestry of spiritual expression, both the somber dirge and the exultant praise have their place. As the Psalmist reminds us, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). Warren’s hymns, in their exuberance, serve as a powerful reminder of the joy that awaits us at the break of dawn, even as we traverse the night of sorrows.

The Anatomy of Joy: Dissecting “Joy Unspeakable”

Now, let us turn our attention to the hymn itself, a masterpiece of spiritual expression that has stood the test of time. “Joy Unspeakable” is not merely a song; it is a spiritual journey, a pilgrimage of the heart from the valleys of human need to the mountaintops of divine fulfillment.

The Discovery of Grace

“I have found His grace is all complete,
He supplieth every need;”

In these opening lines, Warren invites us to witness a moment of profound spiritual realization. The use of the word “found” suggests a journey, a quest that has reached its culmination. It speaks of a soul that has searched, perhaps through valleys of doubt and deserts of despair, only to discover an oasis of grace so vast, so complete, that it defies human comprehension.

This discovery echoes the words of the Apostle Paul, who declared, “And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work” (2 Corinthians 9:8). Warren’s hymn becomes a living testimony to this truth, a declaration that in Christ, we find not just partial provision, but a grace that is “all complete.”

The Posture of Discipleship

“While I sit and learn at Jesus’ feet,
I am free, yes, free indeed.”

Here, Warren paints a picture of intimate discipleship, reminiscent of Mary of Bethany, who chose the “better part” by sitting at Jesus’ feet (Luke 10:42). This posture of humility and receptivity becomes the conduit through which true freedom is experienced.

The paradox is striking – in sitting, we find freedom. In learning, we discover liberation. It is a profound reminder that true freedom is not found in the frenetic pursuit of worldly pleasures, but in the quiet surrender to divine wisdom. As Jesus himself promised, “If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:31-32).

The Refrain of Ineffable Joy

“It is joy unspeakable and full of glory,
Full of glory, full of glory;
It is joy unspeakable and full of glory,
Oh, the half has never yet been told.”

In this refrain, Warren grapples with the limitations of human language to express the inexpressible. The joy he describes transcends mere emotion; it is a state of being, a spiritual reality so profound that words falter in its presence.

The repetition of “full of glory” serves not as mere poetic device, but as an attempt to capture the overflowing nature of this joy. It is reminiscent of Peter’s words, describing our inheritance in Christ as “an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you” (1 Peter 1:4).

The final line, “Oh, the half has never yet been told,” is both a confession of human inadequacy and a promise of greater revelations to come. It echoes Paul’s sentiment in 1 Corinthians 2:9, “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”

The Transformation of Desire

“I have found the pleasure I once craved,
It is joy and peace within;
What a wondrous blessing, I am saved
From the awful gulf of sin.”

In this verse, Warren takes us on a journey of spiritual transformation. The “pleasure” once sought in worldly pursuits is now found in an internal wellspring of joy and peace. This metamorphosis of desire is at the heart of the Christian experience, a fulfillment of God’s promise through Ezekiel: “A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you” (Ezekiel 36:26).

The contrast between the “joy and peace within” and the “awful gulf of sin” is stark, reminding us of the chasm that once separated us from God. Yet, in Christ, this gulf is bridged, and we find ourselves transported from the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light (Colossians 1:13).

The Clarity of Hope

“I have found that hope so bright and clear,
Living in the realm of grace;
Oh, the Savior’s presence is so near,
I can see His smiling face.”

Here, Warren paints a vivid picture of the Christian hope – not a vague wishfulness, but a bright and clear reality. This hope is anchored in the “realm of grace,” a phrase that encapsulates the new reality in which believers live.

The intimacy described in the latter half of the verse is breathtaking. The nearness of the Savior’s presence, the ability to “see His smiling face,” speaks of a relationship so close, so personal, that it transcends the physical realm. It brings to mind the promise of James 4:8, “Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you.”

The Wellspring of Joy

“I have found the joy no tongue can tell,
How its waves of glory roll;
It is like a great o’erflowing well,
Springing up within my soul.”

In this final verse, Warren returns to the theme of ineffable joy, but now with a new metaphor. The joy is likened to an overflowing well, an image rich with biblical resonance. It calls to mind Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman: “But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life” (John 4:14).

The “waves of glory” that roll speak of the dynamic, ever-fresh nature of this joy. It is not a stagnant pool, but a living stream, constantly renewed by the Spirit of God.

The Timeless Relevance of “Joy Unspeakable”

As we stand in the shadow of Warren’s lyrical masterpiece, we are compelled to ask: How does this hymn, penned in a bygone era, speak to the hearts of believers today? In a world fraught with anxiety, division, and spiritual malaise, the message of “Joy Unspeakable” resonates with even greater urgency.

A Counterculture of Joy

In a society that often equates joy with fleeting pleasures and material acquisition, “Joy Unspeakable” stands as a radical alternative. It speaks of a joy not dependent on circumstances, a peace not swayed by the storms of life. In doing so, it challenges believers to live as a counterculture, embodying a joy that the world cannot give and cannot take away.

An Invitation to Intimacy

The hymn’s emphasis on personal experience – “I have found,” “I can see” – serves as a powerful reminder that Christianity is not merely a set of doctrines to be believed, but a relationship to be experienced. In an age of spiritual superficiality, it calls us back to the feet of Jesus, to sit, to learn, and to discover the depths of His love.

A Testimony of Transformation

Warren’s hymn is, at its core, a testimony of profound spiritual transformation. It speaks to the power of the Gospel to not only forgive sins but to fundamentally alter our desires, our hopes, and our very being. In a world hungry for authenticity and real change, “Joy Unspeakable” stands as a beacon of hope, proclaiming that true and lasting transformation is possible through Christ.

The Challenge of “Joy Unspeakable”

Dear seeker, as we draw near to the close of our reflection, let us not shy away from the challenge that this hymn presents to each of us. For in its jubilant strains, we hear not only a song of celebration but also a call to examination.

Do we, like Warren, know this joy unspeakable? Have we truly sat at Jesus’ feet and learned of Him? Have our desires been transformed, our hopes clarified, our souls filled with the overflowing well of His presence?

These are not questions to be answered lightly, for they probe the very essence of our faith. Yet, they are questions we must ask, for in them lies the path to a deeper, richer, more vibrant walk with Christ.

The Unending Song

As we come to the end of our journey through “Joy Unspeakable,” we find ourselves not at a conclusion, but at a beginning. For the joy of which Warren wrote is not a destination to be reached, but a lifetime to be lived.

In the earthly life of every believer, there will be seasons of sorrow, moments of doubt, periods of struggle. Yet, through it all, the promise of joy unspeakable remains – a joy that sustains us in the valleys, propels us to the mountaintops, and accompanies us in the everyday moments in between.

May we, like Barney E. Warren, become living testimonies to this joy. May our lives become hymns of praise, our hearts wellsprings of glory, our very beings reflections of the unspeakable joy found in Christ.

For in the end, when all is said and done, when the last note of earth’s song has faded away, we shall find that even then, “the half has never yet been told.” The joy unspeakable that we have tasted here is but a prelude to the eternal symphony that awaits us in the presence of our Savior.

And so, dear seeker, let us go forth with hearts full of anticipation, spirits attuned to the melody of heaven, ready to join in the unending song of joy unspeakable and full of glory. For in Christ, the best is always yet to come.

Christmas devotion: Anna

There was also a prophetess, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was very old, having been married to her husband for seven years until his death. She had lived as a widow since then for eighty four years. She never left the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment, she came up to them and began to give thanks to God and to speak about the child to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem.

God invites those who are hurting into His family. Anna had only been married for seven years when the unthinkable happened, she lost her husband. In Anna’s time that meant she lost her income, her home and her protection. She was devastated. But God has a heart for the devastated. For eighty-four years Anna came under the protection of God as she worshiped him day and night in the temple.

Anna’s devastation drove her into a life of piety. Sometimes the beauty and the aroma of the rose leads us to a loving God, other times it is the prick of the thorn which drives us into the caring arms of our Savior.

Anna’s piety was rewarded with a glimpse of the redemption that God had promised the world. Her natural response to seeing Christ was to tell others of his life and mission.

Our hope for you today is that you will find love and shelter in God’s family just like Anna did.