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Christmas Eve Remembering

 A part of today’s reading in my book “An Advent Sojourn” on Christmas Eve:

“One Christmas Eve, many years ago, I was pastoring a small rural church in a Wisconsin. Our church building was an old white clapboard with beautiful old stained glass windows that reflected brilliantly at night when the lights were on. The organ was an old wind-driven, bellowed organ that filled up the room with a sound that made everyone want to sing. 

I came to our Christmas Eve service with great expectations. By this time I had fallen in love with Advent and Christmas Eve was the penultimate of our celebration of Christ’s birth on Christmas Day. It came time for the service and all fifty or so of us were gathered. 

Then just before the service was to begin, the power went out. I stood there in disbelief, “No. Lord, do something.” But nothing happened…now what? The power stayed off. It was time to begin our service, so I made a quick decision: “Get the candles out, pass them around, and we’ll do the service without instruments.” It was amazing. Our voices took over and filled the space. The darkened building was lit up with candlelight. No stained glass could come close to the beauty of well-known faces of people aglow in the candlelight, worshipping our Savior. No organ could emulate the sound of voices singing in celebration with more certainty. Several years ago, my son reflected back on that evening. He’s now a grown man with his own family and his reflections are from more than thirty years ago. Then he was not even ten years old, but he remembered it…that kind of event is more memorable than the usual ones which we often forget.   My son, Chris penned these words: 

Darkened trees stood glimmering

In their icy bridal gowns

large station wagons

with Wisconsin plates

mimicked foolish children

who, clinging to their parents’ hands

slid their dress shoes across freshly shoveled sidewalk

and into the unlit and heatless sanctuary

 magic had perched like a bird

on the sill of every stained glass window

the voices of the saints

unmuffled by winter coats

soon joined flickering candle flame

and we remembered

the eve we’ve given to the King’s birth

redeeming the powerlessness of a small farm town

with the spirit of our Redeemer in mind.  

Centuries before our experience, a man found himself in a similar situation. In 1818, a pastor of a church without a working organ, and the choir director with only his guitar, took a poem the pastor had written and played it on Christmas Eve to their congregation. From there it has spread around the world and is perhaps the most well known of all Christmas hymns.

Silent night! Holy night!

All is calm, all is bright

‘round yon virgin, mother and child

Holy infant, so tender and mild,

Sleep in heavenly peace,

Sleep in heavenly peace


 Silent night! Holy night!

Shepherds quake at the sight.

Glories stream from heaven afar,

heav’nly hosts sing: “Alleluia!

Christ the Saviour is born!

Christ the Saviour is born!”


 Silent night! Holy night!

Son of God, love's pure light

radiant beams from Thy holy face

with the dawn of redeeming grace,

Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth!

Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth!

We do not need to make Christmas an extravaganza. Simple is beautiful. I saw that one evening more than thirty years ago and have never forgotten it. As you celebrate Christmas Eve—whether as a family, or in your fellowship among believing friends—make your heart a place of quiet peace for Christ to be enjoyed and to enter into worship of Christ, our Lord, then the new-born King.

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