By Mark A. Taylor
It was a golden moment. We were touring the magnificent Christmas displays at Longwood Gardens, a 1,000-plus-acre delight not far from Philadelphia in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania. Tucked in one corner of the Gardens” many-roomed, 4.5-acre conservatory is a majestic 10,010 pipe organ, a centerpiece for hourly Christmas carol sing-alongs throughout the day we were there.
In spite of the instrument”s ability to fill the room with its own volume (and rumbling bass notes we could feel as well as hear), voices soared and surrounded us as we sang the carols together.
And one of them””certainly not my favorite; if given the chance I wouldn”t have picked it””moved me in a way that surprised me.
The singsong melody of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” seemed more elegant accompanied by this grand instrument. The almost-antiquated language of its verses took new meaning.
It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold.
The carol recounts the angels” announcement to the shepherds. “Peace on earth”””it”s a promise we hear every year at Christmastime, along with all the other sentiment and nostalgia of the holiday. But the carol”s third stanza is not a Hallmark greeting:
And ye, beneath life”s crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow. . . .
I thought of families close to us, slogging through Christmastime this year with grief at the piercing loss of their spouse or parent or child. And now I remember others, dealing with family stress and fragile relationships, job pressures, frightening illnesses, or private insecurities.
In spite of the holiday”s bright lights and red ribbons, for so many””for most of us, perhaps””our walk through this month matches the carol”s description: painful and slow, indeed.
But the final stanza bids us rise above our fears and look beyond ourselves.
For lo, the days are hast”ning on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever circling years
Comes round the age of gold;
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.
Ah, peace. In the midst of my regrets about the past year. In spite of my uncertainty about the months ahead. Regardless of insurmountable issues or uncontrollable problems. In a world where “wars and rumors of war” pepper every newscast, where unrest roils from Ferguson to Brooklyn to Baghdad. Peace, the angels” promise, is the need of the hour.
In our brokenness, in our fear, there”s nothing we need more. We long for the perfect peace that will dawn someday when Jesus comes again to create a new heaven and a new earth. But this Christmas, no matter how troubled, we can cling to a promise for today.
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your request to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:6, 7).
About the need, the feelings, and the hope. Well said!