How Christmas Changes Every Long, Silent, Night

Merry Christmas!

I’ve been in a season of quiet lately; a season of letting God’s word re-shape me rather than tapping the keyboard to shape my own words. But today I wanted to share one of my favorite Christmas musings with you. Because, maybe more than ever, I need the reminder that the darkness will never be the same thanks to Jesus. And maybe you need to know that, too. So, if you’ve read this one before, may it bless you once more. And if it’s the first time you’ve stumbled on these words, may they bring you fresh hope on this day of our Savior’s birth.

“That night there were shepherds staying in the fields nearby, guarding their flocks of sheep. Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared among them, and the radiance of the Lord’s glory surrounded them.” Luke 2:8-9a (NLT)

I sit alone near the window at the end of a long December day, my weary frame wrapped in a wordless sigh and a plush red blanket. The wintry woods beyond the glass are as quiet as my children who sleep down the hall.

Moonbeams mingle with the twinkling lights of our Christmas tree, and starlight waltzes with the shadows on the floor.

I take a deep breath and seek solace in the silence. But my heart refuses to rest in the hallowed hush.

For years, when my wee ones filled the nights with wails, I dreamed of a quiet like this.

But what I didn’t know then — when my midnight hours thrummed to the rhythm of sniffling sighs and colicky cries — is that children aren’t the only ones who can fill the night with clamor.

Sometimes the quiet quakes noisy, too.

Doubts drowned out by the drone of the day can resurrect with a ruckus in the lull of night. Fear can run wild when our feet finally slow. And worry can howl reckless in the hush.

It’s in the quiet where we often come face-to-face with our questions:

Do I really believe that God is good?
Does He truly see my needs and hear my prayers?
Do I trust Him enough to obey when it doesn’t make sense?
Will His promises hold firm even if my hope falls short?

It’s in the quiet where we learn to fight for faith.

So, I shift my eyes from that twinkling tree to the Bible on my lap. And I read aloud from those treasured pages.

“That night there were shepherds staying in the fields nearby, guarding their flocks of sheep. Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared among them, and the radiance of the Lord’s glory surrounded them. They were terrified, but the angel reassured them. ‘Don’t be afraid!’ he said. ‘I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people. The Savior — yes, the Messiah, the Lord — has been born today in Bethlehem, the city of David! And you will recognize him by this sign: You will find a baby wrapped snugly in strips of cloth, lying in a manger” (Luke 2:8-12, NLT).

God’s Word dangles in the air like the velvet stockings hanging hopeful on my mantle. I close my eyes and try to listen to the truth of Scripture rather than the squall of my own soul.

I imagine the Hope of Heaven landing on the dust of earth … the squeals of fright and the blaze of light. The angel’s declaration and the shepherds’ consternation.

And I ask Jesus to show me something new in this familiar account of the very first Christmas.

Then all at once, I see it through a haze of grateful tears:

The message the angels proclaimed on that Bethlehem hillside long ago didn’t just change the course of one bygone silent night.

The good news of great joy changed the course of every silent night to come. Because we don’t have a God who merely pierces our darkness. We have a Savior who lingers beside us on our long silent nights (Isaiah 9:2-7).

The prophets foretold it (Isaiah 7:14). The angel repeated it. And His name confirms it (Matthew 1:23). God is with us.

And in His presence, we can find everything we need when the quiet quakes noisy.

Matthew 1:23, “‘Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel’ (which means, God with us).” (ESV)

Blessings to you, dear friends. Thanks for being a part of this gathering of Jesus-chasers and hope dwellers. I’m grateful for you. May the glorious gift of Jesus bring you comfort and joy today!