The carol I chose to close out this year's series is one that I have shared once before several years ago and which I have known from my earliest years. I only discovered that there were actually words when I was in my late teens and they remain some of the most beautiful and profound Christmas lyrics in my ken. 

         Perhaps you've never heard The Golden Carol of The Wisemen, or perhaps, like me in childhood, you've only ever heard the melody and never the words. This medieval carol needs little introduction, and I don't wish to say much about it. Today is Christmas, we will be relaxing among family members, opening presents, eating food, and possibly taking naps. 

         However, let us not leave the day without a thought for why we celebrate; why this day should cause us to rejoice. In the words of St. Patrick's Breastplate:

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

      And, without further ado:

1. We saw a light shine out a-far,
    On Christmas in the morning;
And straight we knew it was Christ's star,
    Bright beaming in the morning.
Then did we fall on bended knee,
    On Christmas in the morning;
And prais'd the Lord, who let us see
    His glory at its dawning.

2. Oh! Every thought be of His Name,
    On Christmas in the morning;
Who bore for us both grief and shame,
    Afflictions sharpest scorning.
And we may die (when death shall come,)
    On Christmas in the morning;
And see in Heav'n, our glorious home,
    That Star of Christmas morning.

          I don't know about you, but I cannot wait to meet that star of Christmas morning one day! I only pray that God will help me keep this hope in the front and centre of my life always. May everything I do be born out of a love for Christ and close communion with Him whom I shall someday see face to face. If I am blessed to die on Christmas morning, it will make it all that much more precious to those left behind. They may know that I am celebrating the best Christmas of all with my Saviour who bore all for me.

          Merry Christmas!

                       ~ Christianna

        I discovered this song only this year, and I believe it was written only last year so I feel as though I've come full circle with you all, sharing ancient carols from nearly 1000 years ago, as well as ones that have been out for barely a year, but just savour these beautiful verses by Chris Anderson with me for a moment.

I think my favourite point in Handel's Messiah is the part where the bass sings, "For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and deep darkness the peoples, but the Lord shall arise upon them. And the nations shall come to its light, and kings to the brightness of His rising. ... The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light and they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death upon them hath the light shined."

        It's all straight out of Isaiah, but this song explains, in part, why I love it so. 

            Until Tonight,

               ~ Christianna

         Yes, this is another re-run, something I posted a few years ago, which some of you may not have had the chance to hear, not to mention a good refresher for the rest of us. It's another John Rutter classic, based on a fifteenth century English Poem by John Audelay. In it, Christ is portrayed as a flower, the sweetest and most fragrant flower ever to blossom.

I thought it would be fun, though, to share the original lyrics. They spoke and spelled a little differently in the 1400s. Let me know if you can decipher this without opting to the translation below. You go up points in my estimation if you're able to make it through and understand, roughly, what's being said in each stanza. This is where I am most grateful for my muddling through Spencer's Faerie Queene, and Chaucer's Canterbury tales. 

A couple tips, if you don't know where to start, remember that at this time there was no standardised spelling so people spelled things the way they sounded. Granted, they spoke a little differently back then too...so, there's that, but do let me know how you get on.

There is a floure sprung of a tre,
The rote therof is called Jesse,
A floure of pryce;
Ther is non seche in paradise.

This flour is fayre and fresche of heue;
Hit fadis never, bot ever is new;
The blisful branche this flour on grew
Was Mare myld that bare Jhesu —
A flour of grace,
Agayns al sorow hit is solas.

The sede hereof was Godis sond,
That God himselve sew with his hond;
In Bedlem, in that hole lond,
In medis here herbere ther he hir fond.
This blisful floure
Sprang never bot in Maris boure.

When Gabrael this mayd met,
With "Ave, Maria," he here gret;
Betwene hem two this flour was set,
And kept was, no mon schul wit,
Hent on a day
In Bedlem, hit con spred and spray.

When that floure began to sprede,
And his blossum to bede,
Ryche and pore of evere sede,
Thai marvelt hou this flour myght sprede!
Til kyngys thre
That blesful floure come to se.

Angelis ther cam out of here toure
To loke apon this freschele floure —
Houe fayre he was in his coloure,
And hou sote in his savour —
And to behold
How soche a flour myght spryng in golde.

Of lille, of rose of ryse,
Of prymrol, and of flour-de-lyse
Of al the flours at my devyse,
Thet floure of Jesse yet bers the prys,
As most of hele
To slake oure sorous everedele.

I pray youe, flours of this cuntre,
Whereevere ye go, wereever ye be,
Hold hup the flour of good Jesse,
Fore your freschenes and youre beute,
As fayrist of al,
And ever was and ever schal.

     You all know I love it when something not only tells a story, but paints a picture in metaphor. This is one of the best devices for poetry and I do wish people would write poetry with this in mind nowadays rather than ... well ... you know, rap. 

       Alright, that being said, here is the actual song, and I'll include the translation underneath. There is none better to sing this than the King's Singers; perhaps the group I draw from more than any other for my Christmas carol performances. No sloppy vowels, crisp, clean harmonies, clear enunciation, and a cohesive sound. If you listen to Glad and then the King's Singers, you may understand why I can only listen to so much of Glad before it irritates me. Or, you may not, but this is very much a case in point...it's not just the arrangements, it's how they sing them.

 There is a flower sprung from a tree,
The root thereof is called Jesse,
A flower of great worth;
There is no other such in paradise.

This flower is fair and fresh of hue;
It fades never, but ever is new;
The blessed branch where this flower grew
Was Mary mild who bore Jesu —
A flower of grace,
Against all sorrow it is solace.

The seed thereof was of God's sending,
Which God himself sowed with his hand;
In Bethlehem, in that holy land,
Within her garden he found her there.
This blessed flower
Sprang never but in Mary's bower.

When Gabriel this maiden met,
With "Ave, Maria," he her greeted
Between them two this flower was set,
And was kept, no man should know it,
Until one day
In Bethlehem, it began to spread and spray.

When that flower began to spread,
And his blossom to bud,
Rich and poor of every seed, [i.e. kind]
They marvelled how this flower might spread,
Until kings three
That blessed flower came to see.

Angels there came out of their tower
To look upon this fresh flower —
How fair he was in his colour,
And how sweet in his savour —
And to behold
How such a flower might spring amid the cold.

Of lily, of rose on branch,
Of primrose, and of fleur-de-lys,
Of all the flowers I can think of,
That flower of Jesse yet bears the prize,
As the best remedy
To ease our sorrows in every part.

I pray you, flowers of this country,
Wherever ye go, wherever ye be,
Hold up the flower of good Jesse,
Above your freshness and your beauty,
As fairest of all,
Which ever was and ever shall be.

         Let us all value Christ and hold him up above ourselves wherever we go. The last stanza is technically speaking to women, but I think it can safely be applied to all mankind. He is the fairest of ten thousand, the bright and morning star. Let us worship Him this Christmas above all else.

       Until Tomorrow,

                 ~ Christianna

          I usually tend to steer away from Christmas carols for this series that are not explicitly Christ focused. It's not that I won't join in a rousing round of sleigh bells, or sing Deck the Halls as loudly as anyone else, but for this series, my specific goal is to point my readers towards Christ, the cynosure of the entire celebration. If I can help to lift even one unbeliever's eyes towards our Lord of glory, or have a hand in drawing a believer into a deeper communion with my Saviour, then all of this will be worth it.

         While this song is not explicitly Christian, it does capture the spirit of Christmas with Christ, that I decided to share it. Beautiful music often does that, whether or not the writer intended it to do so.

We see a light, on Christmas night,

and see, a path now opens wide!

The lost, the stranger calls to us:

the wounded heart so needs us now.

Alive to love, the angels' song,

we'll travel where love leads.

Long locked away, our deepest song

now dances like a child.

We see a light,

this joyful Christmas night.

Then faith awakes, on Christmas night,

and we become love's answering voice!

The water flows, the mountains move,

we see much more than ruined lives.

Alive to love, the angels' song,

we'll travel where love leads.

Long locked away, our deepest song

now dances like a child.

Our faith awakes,

this star-fire Christmas night!

Let hope arise this Christmas night,

our hearts made great by love's new dawn!

A boundless love, a singing light,

that fills and touches all earth's lives!

Alive to love, the angels' song,

we'll travel where love leads.

Long locked away, our deepest song

now dances like a child.

Let hope arise,

this love-lit Christmas night.

       Let hope arise in all our hearts, this Christmas, for Christ has come and we  may rejoice!

            Until Later Today,

                       ~ Christianna

          Perhaps you weren't aware that the night watch were not only there to keep an eye out for any funny business and to protect honest people from brigands and trouble makers during the witching hours, but also to proclaim the time. The call, "Three O'clock and all's well!" Was a familiar sound if you happened to be up that early. Sometimes they would act like weathermen, embellishing things with a description of what things were like outdoors; "Four O'clock and clear skies!" They might say.

         Imagine if you lived back then, this was a ritual that would have been woven into your daily existence. It's no wonder then, that the English used the ubiquitous call of the night watchman as a basis for a traditional carol which has become one of my personal favourites for at least a dozen years now.

          I know I have shared this carol before, but it has been several years and I like to make a point of repeating some of the good ones every few years not just for the new readers who might have jumped on since then, but also for the old ones to be reminded. 

         In case I have any historians on my roster, I will note that the Christmas verses were actually penned fairly recently by George R. Woodward in the early 1900s, but the refrain and melody have been around since at least 1665, if not earlier. The verses, though, are highly reminiscent of that time, though, and fit perfectly with the dancing chorus:

       Once again, the song paints a picture of a cold night and travellers coming from the corners of the country and beyond to visit the Christ child. I love the way the final stanza completes it. 

      It is the way of those who have met with Christ, who carry His spirit within them, that they cannot let their friends, family, or strangers they meet along the way, go by without an earnest entreaty to go and see the one who was born king of the Jews, come and worship Him, Christ the Lord of glory!

        Do not stay you, I beg of you, if you have not confessed Him, today. Don't wait for a tomorrow that is not guaranteed. And if you have, then live like it, and rejoice in His birth this Christmastide!

         Until tomorrow,

                     ~ Christianna

       Today's song, while relatively modern, written in the '80s, manages to do something similar. I first encountered this song several years ago, and it didn't make a great impression on me. In fact, I completely forgot about its existence during the interval years. It was only this year, like last year's epiphany with Jesu Sweet and Dear, that this song burst back into my field of sight, and I wondered how I could have missed it this time. 

       I think part of it was the ensemble who performed it: Glad, a Christian men's a-Capella group formed, I believe, in the '80s and continuing at least to 2015 when I heard them live at the National Bible Bee Convention. They're a brilliant group, and if you aren't familiar already, I'd recommend giving them a listen. However, I'm not a huge lover of their sound when all is said and done. I can take them in small doses, and I have two of their CDs, but after about 30 minutes I'm ready to move onto something whose harmonies aren't so crunchy.

       That being said, in small doses, I do think Glad is good fun, and this song very perfectly captures a lot of what I imagine must have been running through Mary and Joseph's minds during the months leading up to Jesus' birth. Many of us don't think about what they had to go through to get to this point, and even afterwards. In my teen years, I confess, I often contemplated just how dreadful it would have been to be Mary trying to explain things to Joseph. 

        I can only imagine what Joseph might have felt. All in all, they were two brave, godly people and God used them both mightily in one of the most crucial(ahem, pardon the pun) parts of His salvific plan. I may not have wanted to be Mary but I am more than grateful that such a noble young woman as Mary existed. When you consider what it is that she was consenting to, it is a wonder that she should say simply, "Behold the handmaiden of the Lord, be it done to me according to your word."

        And in one moment, every nefarious attempt the serpent of old had made to wipe out the line of David, to destroy the seed of the woman that was to crush his head, was foiled. 

And Joseph, when the angel appeared to him and told him that Mary's pregnancy was from God, could still have found a way out, could have shied away from the weight of responsibility, from the son who would be his in name if not in blood, but in a quiet acceptance he did not hesitate to embrace Mary and take her as his wife, though he did not consummate that marriage until after Jesus was born. Think of it! No wonder Matthew calls him a righteous man.

       That's what I think of when I listen to today's carol, "One Quiet Moment." It makes me cry, almost every time. (Also, take note of this historic moment, this is perhaps the first and last time, you will ever see words by Bob Kauflin being applauded on this blog...yes, you read that right, the words are by him. Shocking, I know...but even Nathaniel, though dubious that anything good could come out of Nazareth, followed Philip's invitation to come and see. I, too, invite you to come and hear. ;) )

         Of all the names of Christ, "Immanuel" or, "Emmanuel" is one of the most beautiful. It means something beautiful too: God with us. To think that a pure and holy God would come dwell among such broken, depraved creatures as we are. If that doesn't floor you to seriously consider, then I suggest you are not considering it seriously enough. Think about it. Think about it some more... the gulf between you and an ant is far smaller than the gulf between you and God, and yet God chose to come dwell among us. What a thought!

         God with us! The prophets dreamed of it, the saints of the old testament longed for it. the patriarchs wrestled for it, Simeon and Anna rejoiced to see the day, though they likely passed before they witnessed the consummation of it all in Christ's death and resurrection, but still, God with us, among us, dwelling in our midst. What a thought! We are blessed, friends, to have the privilege of looking backward and celebrating Emmanuel. The Old Testament saints looked forward to it and indeed, had great faith for the believing of it, but they didn't have the 20/20 vision that always comes with hindsight. Their vision was hazy as they looked for God's redemption, ours is clear and crisp. God is with us, among us, like He never was before.

        We have His holy Spirit indwelling us, we have the knowledge of what He did. They only had the knowledge of what He was going to do. They had Passover, we have Christmas!

        And that brings us to today's carol, better late than never. I discovered this on a CD I randomly picked up from a thrift store by a contemporary Catholic hymn writer, Vince Ambrosetti. His lyrics are impressively sound, and this is one I wouldn't mind singing in church or a choir someday. It beautifully captures the wonder and longing that Christ fulfilled with His birth; titled simply, "Emmanuel."

I don't need to post the lyrics since they're on the video.  To all of those in whom Emmanuel has come to dwell, may you rejoice anew in His presence this Christmas. To those of you who do not have Him enthroned in your heart, may He do so this year; this is my prayer for you.

      Until tomorrow,

                 ~ Christianna 

        It takes a rather unique but by no means novel approach and is matched with a carol we're all familiar with: What Child Is This, and weds the two in a hauntingly beautiful counterpoint.

        The idea of mixing two songs in such a fashion, as I mentioned earlier, is not a new practice. It was done often in medieval times, but many of the original tunes for those have been lost and and the lyrics eventually became inseparable so that people today think of them as one song; the Macaronic In Dulci Jubilo is perhaps the most famous example. 

         Anyhow, I was thrilled to find out that something like this had been done so well so recently. Most of the time I turn up my nose when people attempt this now because it's badly done...a case in point being that hideous thing I've heard where they mix "Lo How A Rose" with "Some Say Love is Like a Flower." Both songs are beautiful but the combination is hideous and the part divisions clumsy at best, Frankenstein's Monster at worst. 

         This one on the other hand is elegant, tasteful, and extremely beautiful. My Friends, without further ado, I submit to you Child of The Poor 

I don't need to introduce the old Carol's Lyrics to you, so I'll simply share the three verses of Child of The Poor.

 Who is this, indeed? Friends, don't ever lose the wonder and mystery of the Incarnation. The Magnum Mysterium of Christ coming to earth. This touching verse captures it so perfectly and encapsulates the person of our Lord. Who is this? This is Christ.

        Until Tomorrow,

                       ~ Christianna 

        I think I was just too exhausted and sunburned to care enough at that point. I wish I'd exerted myself. Lord willing I'll have a second opportunity. However, that little glimpse made me wonder, what must the Christmas star have looked like to the magi to stand out in the night sky among all of those dazzling ones? We know that they didn't exactly follow the star as some songs would like to indicate. They saw his star in the east, they said, and had come to worship him. Most people suspect that they came from Babylon and were successors of Daniel who prophesied about the Messiah...hence their arrival in Jerusalem.

       Yes, we know they didn't follow the star because when they finally made it to Bethlehem, it seems the star appeared again, and yes, in this case the song is right, it was "right over the place where Jesus lay." They rejoiced exceedingly with great joy to see it, Matthew says. What a sight that must have been.

        I have come to the conclusion that to try to explain it as some conjunction of planets or some coincidental placement of an especially bright star seems rather ludicrous in this case since it's rather hard to ever claim that a star is settled directly over a house...the moment you change position, it will be over someone else's house. Therefore, what can we conclude, but that the appearance of the star itself was a miraculous event? And why not? A virgin conceived, Angels descended on a group of Shepherds, why not an exceptional star to announce the incarnation of The infinite Creator become finite to save His creation?

      I don't think I need to say more that. Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a great love in my heart for African American Spirituals. They are a highly underrated genre of traditional music, and surprisingly, too, while some of them do take some theological liberties, most of them are extremely accurate scripturally, while coming from a place of humility and simplicity. Those African American slaves, persecuted and despised as they were, turned to the Lord and the Scriptures for refuge, and out of that poured some of the most magnificent folk songs ever to be created. Yet another reason to love them.

      Thus, I couldn't let this season pass without introducing you to another beautiful Christmas Spiritual. I know in previous years I've shared "Shout For Joy." Which is a lot of fun both to listen to and sing, this one is much more slow and solemn, still enjoyable but in a different way. I'll let you make up your own mind, though.

Refrain:
Behold the star!
Behold the star up yonder!
Behold the star!
It is the star of Bethlehem.

1 There was no room found in the inn,
It is the star of Bethlehem,
For Him who was born free from sin.
It is the star of Bethlehem. [Refrain]

2 The wise men came from the East,
It is the star of Bethlehem,
To worship Him, the "Prince of Peace."
It is the star of Bethlehem. [Refrain]

         Now that we've gotten all of that sorted, we are free to enjoy this beautiful carol which, inaccuracies aside, focuses not so much on the Wisemen but what they represent. This is something I love about the older Carols, they're excellent at painting a picture. This one, albeit, was written rather recently in the 1800s, but still conveys that imagery, that scene that we have come to associate with Christmas. For me, in many ways, it's like and anchor for my mind, a picture that holds a thousand words spoken and unspoken about what I believe regarding Christmas and all its facets. You'll see more of that picture throughout the coming nine days. 

          For now, though, we all look at three as a symbolically important number, the idea of three wealthy travelers coming from a far country, following a star, and eventually coming to worship an infant king, born to a working class family whom nobody knows or cares about, is at once incongruous and intriguing. Yet the author doesn't stop at the picture, he draws a parallel, inviting us to come along...in true Christina Rossetti style, he agrees that we cannot bring the expensive gifts the magi brought, instead, we ought to offer Him the thing he came to redeem in the first place. Our hearts. The magi, kneeling before the Christ child offering priceless gifts is simply imagery for all of us, kneeling before the Lord of creation, offering Him the greatest thing we have; our very selves. 

          What greater gifts can we bestow on our Saviour, who loved us enough to humble Himself so for our sake? There is nothing else.

        Because I can, I want to add a sidenote to this. To everyone who would like to say that the wisemen's gifts were not practical, or to those who say had they been there they would have given something infinitely more useful, or any other such nonsense, let me say this. Those gifts were by far the most practical that could be given. The family was about to hoof it off to Egypt for a time. How else, do you imagine, they supported themselves during that time? All of you who ask for gift cards and prefer money as a Christmas gift know exactly what I'm talking about. Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh served a more practical purpose than any other more "Practical" thing they might have given which would have been gone in a day or week along with all its warm fuzziness. Those of us who live nice cushioned lives have no idea how much the gifts that were given would have meant to the little family about to be uprooted from their very homeland for a season.

        (If you're wondering where all that vitriol came from, it was fueled by a perfectly horrendous plaque I saw in a church I sang at in Aberdeen, talking about how much better it would have been had the three wisemen been three wisewomen. It was dreadfully stupid and ignorant and made me mad.)

        And on that lovely note I present to you Peter Cornelius' Three Kings From Persian Lands Afar

Three kings from Persian lands afar
to Jordan follow the pointing star:
And this the quest of the travellers three,
where the new-born King of the Jews may be.
Full royal gifts they bear for the King:
Gold, incense, myrrh are their offering.

The star shines out with steadfast ray;
the kings to Bethlehem make their way,
and there in worship they bend the knee,
as Mary's child in her lap they see;
their royal gifts they show to the King:
Gold, incense, myrrh are their offering.

Thou child of man, lo, to Bethlehem
the kings are trav'ling, travel with them!
The star of mercy, the star of grace,
shall lead thy heart to its resting place.
Gold, incense, myrrh thou canst not bring:
Offer thy heart to the infant King, offer thy heart!

 What is our offering of Gold, Frankincense, or myrrh that we will bear to Christ this season? 

How precious is it to us, really? 

Are we actually giving Him our whole hearts or selfishly hoarding a part for ourselves? 

     Something to think on this season.

            Until Tomorrow,

                    ~ Christianna  

         Why? Because around the time of the middle ages when a lot of the Christmas traditions that we celebrate today were getting started, bells were a huge component of people's every day life. Bells were used to announce a wedding, a birth, a death, or to welcome an important personage into town. They were used to warn of an approaching enemy, to sound an alarm for a fire or other natural, or man-made disaster, they were used to indicate the passing of time, as well as herald holidays and celebrations. 

         In fact, if you find yourself in Oxford, England on a Sunday, you will find that church bells still play a large part in the day there, and I still remember the time I got to hear change ringing for the first time in real life while there. (By the by, if you don't like change ringing, well, it's an acquired taste, but all I can say is, you're missing out!)

         Because of this I think bells are a very fitting symbol for Christmas. In this case it's an annunciation of the coming of The King. A very important personage, to be sure, but not in the way one might think, and not with all the pomp and circumstance that would have hailed the entrance of a king in olden times. No, his birth was humble, ignominious even. He was first visited by shepherds, the lowest of the low at that time in Jewish society, and his parents certainly weren't well to do. Mary and Joseph brought the poor man's offering to the temple; two turtledoves, rather than a lamb. 

        And yet, I do like to think of the heavenly bells still ringing, just not all had ears to hear them. The idea that in heaven there was rejoicing, even if earthly hearts were too dull to comprehend it. The heavenly host praised God and rejoiced at His birth, and at least some of the shepherds got it, since it says that they went on their way rejoicing after they visited the infant Christ. 

        Imagine if we could have heard the bells of heaven ring that night, metaphorically speaking, that would have been a sound to carry with us the rest of our lives. It's a good placeholder in our minds to help us remember exactly what Jesus's birth means to all of us who belong to Him: Freedom from sin, eternal life, and adoption as sons of God. That's worth ringing all the bells for, don't you think?

        Since I freely acknowledge myself to be a John Rutter addict, I chose something by him for today's carol. It's simply lovely. This is one where he wrote the words as well and I've quite fallen in love with it as I have most of his other pieces. Let me know what you think.

           It's why I'm so grateful that we chose our Christmas date for winter time (At least for those of us who live in the Northern Hemisphere). Festivals during the cold are the best possible kinds. 

        The picture above is Elliot and I at a concert we sang in this past Sunday. I should have liked to get a couple more of my brothers in on it, but they were here, there, and everywhere this season. Elliot was a start, I'll work on the rest. It all goes to show, once again, what an enjoyable season this is. I know I've mentioned before that Christmas begins in August for musicians, and this year was no exceptions. I love the fact that music ramps up around this time. I'm convinced we need it to keep us sane in this mad little world of ours and it is one of the greatest gifts God gives us with which to express our praise.

         Of course, that is slightly partial coming from a musician, but I think all of us have been moved by music before. I know I will bawl my eyes out during most any classical concert and many other genres as well, as was demonstrated at last year's Carolina In the Fall festival in Wilkesboro under Jens Kruger's Moonshine Sonata. Even if you're not me, though, you've probably had a moment sometime in your life where a song, or a piece of music has made you cry. If not, then I don't know that pounding you in a mortar with a pestle would elicit a noteworthy response and I am sorry for you. However, I think for most, if not all of us, music has stirred our hearts and minds at some point. 

Why?

Why does music have such power over us? 

Sometimes when I'm listening to music I love (Most of the time, actually), I feel as though there is a message being transferred, a story being told, just out of my frame of reference...one that I can barely brush my fingers across, but not quite hit upon. It's been frustrating to me. I've gotten so immersed in a piece of music, trying to sort out the different threads, colours, and motifs, attempting to pierce the shroud of communicability, that I've almost gotten into an accident, so lost was I to everything going on around me.

It's as though it's a language that our sub-conscious can grasp but not our consciousness. I often wonder if we will actually understand it fully in eternity. Perhaps that's why it makes me cry, makes me inexpressibly happy, so happy that my chest hurts and I shed tears, tears of longing, tears of hope, tears of mourning for something lost which can never be regained this side of the grave. 

You know what I mean, right?

That's what today's carol, the first to kick of 2023s Christmas season, does for me. It was one of the songs we were not going to sing for the aforementioned concert.

I can see you scratching your head over that one. Allow me to elaborate. The song list changed slightly between our beginning to rehearse and the final concert lineup. This was one of the songs which got cut and I'm still slightly irritated about it. I'm sure they had their reasons but had it been me in charge, I would have fought tooth and nail to keep it in the programme. 

I first heard All Praise to Thee sung by the men's a-Capella group Glad about eight or nine years ago, to the tune O Waly Waly, which is quite a nice tune, but I kept thinking that the words really deserved their own tune, something new and written specifically for the stanzas.

I got my wish when contemporary composer Elaine Hagenburg took up her pen (metaphorically speaking) and wrote the beautiful arrangement I'm going to share with you now.

The first stanza was adapted from an 11th century Latin Sequence Grates Nunc Omnes Reddamus(Our Thanks We Render to You Now) into the German vernacular and then added to by Martin Luther in the early fifteen hundreds and published as Gelobet Seist Du, Jesu Christ,(Praised Are You, Jesus Christ) and sung, presumably, to an old melody circa 1400. Usually I am a great proponent of the original tune, but in this case, even after being arranged by Michael Pratorious, the old tune simply doesn't strike me. I was waiting for something better when Hagenburg's arrangement was brought to my attention this year.

Enough talk, I invite you to listen for yourselves.

All praise to Thee, eternal God,
Who, clothed in garb of flesh and blood,
Dost take a manger for Thy throne,
While worlds on worlds are Thine alone.
Hallelujah!

Once did the skies before Thee bow;
A virgin's arms contain Thee now,
While angels, who in Thee rejoice,
Now listen for Thine infant voice.
Hallelujah!

A little Child, Thou art our Guest
That weary ones in Thee may rest;
Forlorn and lowly is Thy birth
That we may rise to heaven from earth.
Hallelujah!

Thou comest in the darksome night
To make us children of the light,
To make us in the realms divine,
Like Thine own angels, round Thee shine.
Hallelujah!

All this for us Thy love hath done;
By This to Thee our love is won;
For this our joyful songs we raise
And shout our thanks in ceaseless praise.
Hallelujah!

     That Christ, the Lord, the Creator of the universe should come down and be a part of His creation for a time, all to save them from the consequences of their own rebellion is simply staggering, the best comparison I can imagine is if we were to voluntarily choose to become amoeba for a time, but the analogy breaks down since we didn't create amoeba, we have no ability to become them, and the gulf between God and us is far greater than that between us and amoeba. What a thought!

I think remembering our own smallness and God's greatness is an excellent way to kick off this year's edition of Lessons and Carols of the advent season. May this music uplift you and bring you to your knees!

    Until tomorrow,

              ~ Christianna

         For those of you who are not immediately familiar, let me explain. When the kingdoms of Judah and Israel split after the death of Solomon,  rise and fall of the kings of each of the kingdoms in Kings and Chronicles is bookend with the ultimate judgement: good or bad, evil or righteous. One did what was right in the sight of the Lord and one did what was evil in the sight of the Lord. 

        There were zero righteous kings in Israel and only eight in Judah. What was interesting, though, even with the ones that did what was right, was that sometimes there was an extra tag line, "Only the high places were not taken away..."

         By the time I was about seven or eight I understood that the high places were sacred spaces for the worship of false gods. The concept only became clear to me as I grew older, that mountain tops and high hills were where people would go to feel closer to whatever deity they worshiped. God was the one who thought of it first, of course. He chose the high places for Himself; Sinai, Horeb, Moriah, Gerezim and Ebal, Zion... even the Psalmist says, "I lift mine eyes unto the hills, from whence shall my help come? My help cometh even from the Lord who made heaven and earth."

        How much more blasphemous it is to take those places which God has set aside for Himself, and use them for idol worship? That was the big deal with the high places. 

         Personally, I love high places. Hiking is one of my favourite active hobbies, and the view from the top of a mountain is one of the most beautiful sights in the entire world. There's nothing better, in my opinion. Yet sin has a way of twisting the most beautiful things. Why should we be surprised that high places proved to be a stumbling block for the children of men?

         When I'm on top of a physical mountain, my first instinct is to glorify God and give thanks for the gift of all that beauty and wonder. However, I recently realised I had my own high places I needed to tear down, some hold outs in my heart where God was not honoured and homage was being paid to idols. I was being like Jotham or Joash who tore down the asherah, and cast out the Baals, but left the high places. They mostly had their act together...they were listed among the eight good kings, but there was a black mark on their memorials, they clung to a few of the little idols, even though they got rid of the big ones.

          I'm pretty good at looking good on the outside. all my friends and many of my relatives think I have it all together. They don't know the half of it. 

          Some of you may not be aware that in February of this year I took up a different line of work. It was rather unexpected, and certainly not what I had planned, but it turned out to be exactly what I needed because I began to be confronted on a daily basis with the full weight of my years of worshiping on high places. It was the cumulative effect of all the little idols I had stored up and cherished in my heart at least half a dozen years if not more. 

          I would justify myself in clinging to them, they weren't Baals or Asherim, not inherently wrong, just high places, beautiful places of serenity and refreshment...but I was sacrificing on them...serving my own gods, trying to serve Yaweh in my own place, not the place He had commanded.

         Now, selling life insurance, of all things, I could no longer justify my idols. God marched me back in front of them and tore down the screens I had carefully woven over the years to hide what they truly are. "They are false gods; idols." He said, "You must get rid of them. Thou shalt have no other gods before me." 

         Friends, for a time I would not. All this summer I clung to them, even as God, the determined parent of a rebellious child, pried my stubborn fingers off of them one by one, I refused to let go. They were my safe places, my escape from real life, my comfort when all went awry either in the world of insurance, or life, or both at once. 

        And so all summer long I felt like the subject of the poem "The Hound of Heaven." (Which, if you have not read it, is an absolute masterpiece I would highly recommend). I clung to my idols seeking comfort and escape, only to be confronted by God at every turn, "Lo, naught contents thee who content'st not me." He said, over and over, and over again. It was only in the past week and a half or so that I began to actually cast them out, voluntarily, and while life has not changed over night, it has brought a huge wave of peace and relief.

         Reader, I understand you may now have two very glaring questions on the tip of your tongue.

1. What were my idols?

2. How did selling life insurance force me to give them up? 

          I refuse to answer the first one here. If you ask me in person, perhaps I shall tell you, but I think spending two paragraphs trying to explain what they were and how they were idols to me would only serve to distract from the point I am attempting to make and not serve any constructive means. Suffice it to say, they were stumbling blocks to me and I have known now for years what action I ought to take with regard to them and have not...which is, as James spells out, no more and no less than sin.

         Regarding the second, the answer is simple. Self - Discipline. In many ways, being a life insurance agent is like starting my own business. Granted, there was no capital needed aside from paying for my licensing, which was a given, and there is someone over me who makes the rules, but in this business where the pay runs on commission, and I get out directly what I put into it, I am compelled to be the very best version of myself at all times, and the better I am and the more disciplined I am, the better my business runs. My idols began to wound me. They wounded me before, but I did not see the consequences reflected so clearly in the results of my life. 

         What wonders a bit of hard work will do for a person. Especially one as indolent and self-centered as myself.

         And so, over the past two weeks I have been slowly but surely tearing down my high places. It has been most painful and difficult and my prayers have often devolved to desperate pleas to God to help me through the next moment, the next hour, just that much.

          And He is helping me. Even with these things that brought me to tears because I could not seem to have any mastery over them. 

        No, mastery is not yet achieved, and it will be a lifelong endeavor, but I have set myself to watch out for cherished high places and demolish them ruthlessly so that there is no place in my heart where God is not exalted above all else. 

        So, as funny as this may sound coming from me. Here's to the sanctifying work of life insurance and all its facets. 

         Join me on the journey, if you will, and do pray for me when I come to mind, that God will continue to teach me submission to Him and His word, and that I may bring Him glory in my work, in my leisure, and all that He sets my heart and hands to do. 

            Excelsior!

                   ~ Christianna

      Last year when nearly all the family was present for Christmas and my mother's birthday, my sister-in-law put together a trivia game for us, that tested how well we actually knew my mother. Some of the questions were things we'd never thought that much about before. Some we certainly should have gotten right, but didn't. (Though, for the record, I got one of the highest scores! ;) ) However, there was one question we all got right. The question was basically, if she were stranded on a dessert island and could have only one thing with her, what would that thing be. Every single one of us got the correct answer.
 

Any of you have any guesses before I tell?
 

Her Bible. We knew it, even those of us who got lower scores over all. It was a given.
 

My mother has the same NASB 1977 edition study Bible which, I believe, she received in her first few years of becoming a Christian and that Bible has been her constant companion ever since. If you're at our house and you come downstairs early in the morning, there she'll be at the dining room table, candles lighted, with her Bible open. In the middle of the day, when she's taking a break on the couch. There she'll be, her Bible open on her lap.
 

If more mothers were in the word as constantly as mine is, I know CBD wouldn't be selling half of its "women's resources." I've read some of these elementary texts...my mother and I laugh at some of them. Christian women think they can read a lot of little instruction manuals written by others, rather than the master plan, written by the master Craftsman, and get the same level of spiritual maturity. They can't.
 

 As a tribute to my mother, I'll post a poem I wrote for her birthday. Most of you are familiar, I believe, with the trite line, "Mother, you are warmth, comfort, wisdom, and love." I know my mother is all those things but you struggle with saying that in a way that makes it not sound trite. So, for better or for worse, this is my attempt at that.