Count Your Blessings meets Joy to the World:
“And wonders, and wonders of his love.”
Count his many wonders . . .
“Name them one by one,
and it will surprise you
what the Lord has done.”
To my female readers—
Do you feel left out of this Christmas carol?
God rest you merry, Gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay.
Not to worry, God’s got it covered–in the well-known description of the wife of noble character:
Proverbs 31:25 (NIV)
She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
Different gender. Same attitude.
I gotta admit–Away in a Manger bugs me a bit. It makes the stable and manger seem sweet. Lullaby sweet. And I have second thoughts.
The only good thing about birthing a baby in a stable is that it isn’t the street. No gawking crowd of strangers.
The only good thing about settling a baby into a manger is that it’s cleaner than the stable floor.
I grew up among farmers. We took off our boots and washed our hands when we came in from the barn. For good reason.
Handy Hubby hung swags of colored lights along our back fence. I look into the darkness and see a path of lights along the edge of our property.
Hark! The Herald Angels Sing is a set of beautiful phrases hung together–like my beautiful backyard decorations, they are guiding lights in our dark world.
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
GOD and sinners reconciled . . .
Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see,
Hail the Incarnate Deity!
Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die.
Imagine this scene (with Charles Wesley’s attention to detail)–
Shepherds abide in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night. The sky explodes with ten thousand flashes of lightning.
Angels speak in the north sky:
For to us a child is born.
Thousands in the south respond:
To us a son is given.
From the east:
And the government shall be on his shoulders.
And the west:
And he will be called . . .
Ten thousand voices echo across the sky, saying:
Wonderful Counselor
Mighty God Everlasting Father
Prince of Peace
I imagine shepherds on the hillside, watching their flocks by night. Someone is playing a simple wooden flute, a quiet melody floating over men and sheep–gray shadows caught in a flicker of firelight.
BOOM! The skies open with a crack of thunder and an explosion of light. The angels split the sky with a perfect performance of Handel’s Messiah!
Beats the food court flash mob’s Hallelujah Chorus all hollow. Listen here to the flash mob, think shepherds at night.
Welkin?
According to Websters, welkin is “the vault of the sky, firmament,” or “celestial abode of God.” And when Charles Wesley penned the words of a now familiar carol, he wrote, Hark! How all the welkin rings, Glory to the King of kings.
Wesley’s colleague, George Whitefield, tweaked the first line and published the song. Wesley was furious—his carefully crafted verse was no longer biblically accurate.
Luke 2:13-14 (NIV)
Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God…”
Saying, not singing.
Heavens rang. Absolutely. Angels sang. Maybe not.