Silent Night, Holy Night

A part of today’s reading comes from my book “An Advent Sojourn”. It was from the date Christmas Eve:

“One Christmas Eve, many years ago, I was pastoring a small rural church in Wisconsin. Our church building was an old white clapboard building with beautiful old stained glass windows that reflected brilliantly at night. 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. 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 the 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 were from more than 30 years before. Then, he was not even ten years old, but he remembered it…that event was etched in our minds and became more memorable than any other Christmas eve church service. 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 parent's 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.

I love what Christopher wrote because it captured the joy of an evening that began in disappointment. Christmas eve was messy, but it turned to "wonder-filled" joy.

Centuries before our experience, a man found himself in a similar situation. In 1818, a pastor of a church discovered on Christmas eve that he was without a working organ. He went to his choir director to ask for help. 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!

We do not need to make Christmas an extravaganza. Simple is beautiful. I saw that one evening more than forty 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 newborn King.