Tonight was one such Christmas, as the news slipped through the people gathered at church that someone, elderly and well-loved, had suffered a massive stroke and was not expected to live. It came to me between the two children's services that are the focus of my energy for much of November and December. And in the second service, the same words I had heard only 90 minutes earlier became more pungent, more clear, more true as I thought about this woman's life and her husband's loss.
Our lives on earth end, though God made us for eternity. This God incarnate we sing of tonight, this infant, died too, but leads us through death to life eternal. This God knows and understands our suffering, our grief, our loss.
Generation after generation sings of this, tells of this at Christmastime, and despite death, despite sadness, rejoices.
All my heart this night rejoices, As I hear, far and near, sweetest angel voices; “Christ is born,” their choirs are singing, Till the air, everywhere, now their joy is ringing.
Hark! a voice from yonder manger, Soft and sweet, doth entreat, “Flee from woe and danger; Brethren, come; from all that grieves you You are freed; all you need I will surely give you.”
Come, then, let us hasten yonder; Here let all, great and small, kneel in awe and wonder, Love Him Who with love is yearning; Hail the star that from far bright with hope is burning. (Paul Gerhardt, 1656)