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The story of its creation and promotion has several variations and differing nuances. The length of its rise to fame spans decades; its influence has continued for two hundred years. Not only is it known throughout Christendom, but also it is likely recognized and employed during the holidays by even those who have not come to faith in Christ. What, might you ask, would have such an enormous impact on humanity save for the Word of God itself? It is the beloved carol sung and played throughout the Christmas season, Silent Night.
This year is the 200th Anniversary of the musical composition and inaugural performance of the song known for its beautifully simple lyrics and melody. An authentic score was found in 1995 pinpointing the date of Mohr’s original writing as being in 1816. Tales abound as to the reason this carol was written, as well as about the circumstances of its employ. 
A faulty organ at St. Nicholas church in Oberndorf, Austria is often given as the reason for Mohr’s request that the song be accompanied by guitar. Some credit ravenous mice for the problem, believing they damaged the organ’s bellows. No matter. When Father Joseph Mohr passed on the lyrics to organist, Franz Gruber, his request was for the stringed instrument, two voices, and a choir to bring the first sounds of this tender carol to the listeners’ ears. And so it was that Franz Gruber created an accompaniment and fashioned a melody that along with Joseph Mohr’s poem has touched the hearts and lives of people ever since.
As I think back to the night about which Silent Night is written, the birth of our precious Lord and Savior in a lowly stable, I wonder just how silent a night like that could be. Wouldn’t there have been a lot of hustle and bustle around a young mother about to give birth in such an unlikely place? Could the animal occupants, perhaps shooed and unsettled from their regular stalls, hold back their moos, baas, bleats, and other utterances that would normally be heard among them? And what about Mary herself, a young lady having her first child? Would she have delivered without a sound or a cry as she brought forth that baby boy? Though the Word itself is silent on the probable ambient noise surrounding the birth of the infant King, it is not hard to imagine that the awe and wonder of his arrival was met with a holy silence all around as his presence dawned on our fallen world. The Savior, the promise and hope that all mankind so desperately needed, captivated his mother, his earthly father, the animals surrounding him, and the shepherds who came to worship him, and the earth held its collective breath. The same awe and wonder must have captivated Father Mohr as he penned his apt lyrics.
And what about us? How silent is our reception for the Savior of the world? Our lives are most likely filled with parties, plays and concerts, shopping days, baking and cooking, visiting and being visited. We barely have room to breathe let alone make room for an uninterrupted audience with him. The title of the song in its original German language is Stille Nacht. In English, “Stille” can be translated silent, but also quiet, peaceful, calm, and of course, still. How often do we take the time to just be still before the Lord? His Word does encourage us to “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10, ESV). It is only in the still moments that we can truly reflect on who he is and what his coming means to us and to the world. It is only in the realm of silence that we become aware of the awe and wonder experienced by those who were first in his presence, and we can then become captivated with the One and Only Son of God sent into our world to save us. Can you take some time to be still to focus on his coming this Christmas season?
Click the Music Box
Music Box from the Silent Night Chapel
“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger” (Luke 2:11-12, ESV).
Music Box from the Silent Night Chapel
in Oberndorf, Austria
Silent night, holy night.
All is calm, all is bright
‘Round yon virgin mother and Child;
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace. – Father Joseph Mohr
References:
Stille Translation
World’s Best Loved Carol
The Story Behind Silent Night
History of the Song
Celebrating Holidays
I have just spent an incredible seven weeks with my daughter and her family. My primary purpose for the visit was the birth of Kelley’s fourth child, another beautiful little lady who came safely and wonderfully into the world. Not only was I in attendance at the birth, little Abigail made her appearance with only her mom, dad, her eldest sister, and me to welcome her here. The midwife was two hours away at the time, and remaining in contact with her by cell phone, though the connection was at times spotty, my son-in-law and I assisted my daughter with Abigail’s delivery, quite the experience to be sure! In the midst there were prayers asking Jesus to ensure both Kelley’s and Abby’s health and safety. As always, God showed his faithfulness to us, and we are so grateful to him for his love and care over us all.
From that point on, Libby was quick to say, “Nonnie, we should pray,” whenever there was any kind of need. Along with petitions for the Lord’s help when something could not be found, there were prayers for healing, traveling safety, and success at school. In each case, God graciously responded very quickly to our request, a testament to his genuine interest and care for every detail of our lives. Can you imagine what a faith-building experience this was for six-year-old Libby? We adults certainly benefited as well.
It was one of those days. Actually, it was one of those weeks! We had just returned home at the end of our springtime conference schedule. We have four children: three of the four were moving/preparing a house for sale, and in some way we were helping all three. Mind you, they were not just doing these activities in the same month, but in the same week, and technically the same day! Did I mention that they live in various parts of the country, meaning our trek took us coast-to-coast? If I went into great detail, this blessings blog could easily become a book, but yes, amidst our conference travels we were packing, painting, hauling, and babysitting for both human and furry babies throughout the month.
When my dryer sang out the same “I’m finished” tune, I went to retrieve all my nice, clean laundry. Not! I pulled out a shirt with several light ink blotches on it, followed by another, and another. Some clothes weren’t touched at all, ironically, the pants I wore for painting included. But, one item, the culprit that had likely held what turned out to be an offending pen, took the brunt of the assault. My husband’s olive green cargo shorts, which sported a logo of his former company, were stained beyond help. How they had concealed a pen so well I will never know, but they are now relegated to the pile of clothes used for such things as painting. The last thing I picked up out of the dryer was the writing implement turned weapon, and as I did so I noticed that the inside of the dryer had not escaped the ink battle. It certainly gave new meaning to the phrase, “The pen is mightier than the sword.” Having to add the dryer to the list of items that now needed cleaning, I just wanted to cry! These words from CD4, uttered by our little instrument character Dilly Dissonance who is exasperated by his brothers’ negative activities around town, came to mind: “Everything’s going…wrong!”
When we returned home from our winter/spring travels in the end of April, I was delighted to see that my two tulips planted so lovingly with my granddaughter two and a half years ago were between three and four inches high, each sporting a small bud. For those of you who have a green thumb the size of a watermelon, you may wonder why I would even mention two small blooms in a blog. If you have read my writings in the past, you know that growing anything is a task outside of my wheelhouse and beyond my capabilities. Between the often harsh and unexpected weather in Colorado, my inability to keep vegetation of any sort alive, and the bunnies that, despite the dwarf plants I do produce, decide they make tasty meals, trying to raise anything herbaceous is pretty much a fruitless effort. This is why I really was beyond delighted, I was excited to see I had a couple little plant babies to tend to, and I was hoping for full blooms by the time I would head out on my next trip in the end of May.
It is only as we allow God in to cleanse and refine us that we can become useful vessels to accomplish his purposes here on earth for the good and glory of his kingdom.
My sister-in-law and her husband own a cozy home near Lake Ontario in upstate New York. It is an older house, but they have renovated and upgraded throughout their time of habitation. David and Brenda are very welcoming to family and friends hosting many in the spare bedrooms that lay adjacent on the upper level, on couches and floors in their family area, and even at times when company is plenty, in trailers in their backyard.
An encompassing term for such a collection is memorabilia. Memorabilia serve as reminders of special events, good times, and interesting information. They are collectibles and can include items that are of value, especially to those who are interested in the particular field or theme of the collection. Those who own such a compilation likely can give facts about most of the objects contained therein including dates and times and all the details of the circumstances surrounding their acquisition.
The Sports Room may hold even more importance in David and Brenda’s life now. David shared many of his sports experiences with his son, Nick, their only child, who went home to be with the Lord in March. The room serves as a reminder of many special events and good times. Even more important are the memories of all the great things God has done, including the day he reached into Nick’s heart and life and saved him. Recalling and reflecting on God’s faithfulness, goodness, love, and care in the past gives David and Brenda confidence that he will hold on to them and walk them through whatever they face in the future. This collection of remembrances surely is valuable beyond compare.
Though the winters in our area can feature wide-ranging temperatures and nary a flake until the spring, the snow has seemed particularly scarce this year. So when we happened to have a decent snowfall over the weekend, I was drawn to the window to watch the white fluff dance in the air. Enough snow had already fallen to leave significant amounts on the ground, which also meant that there was a sizeable accumulation on those areas that would have to be shoveled away, especially since we were having company later that day. I was admiring the pretty snow-covered evergreens that were in my view and at the same time praying for our family to arrive safely, remaining aware of the possible hazard the roads had become. As all of these thoughts swirled in my head like the flurries outside, a question suddenly popped into my mind: “How could something that can cause heartache be so incredibly beautiful?” When there is snow, accidents can be numerous, in the mountains within hours of us, avalanches occur, and people literally get lost in blowing snow and are overcome with hypothermia due to frigid temperatures. Yet, there is no denying that there is something picturesque and lovely about fresh falling snow. The beauty of this winter wonder shines through.
An hour or so later, there was quite another scene to view. Our local television stations were carrying the memorial service of a fallen hero, a deputy who had lost his life in the line of duty protecting others in an investigation that had turned into a detrimental attack. Though other officers were injured, the swift action of this deputy saved lives, including that of a civilian. At thirty-four years of age, he left behind a wife and two young children, his parents, brothers and sisters, other family and friends, and his fellow officers. As I continued watching the emotional testimonies of representatives of local law enforcement, his family and the pastor along with the ceremonial protocol, my mind formed a new question, “Where is the beauty in this, Lord?” The Lord allowed a swift answer: this deputy was a believer, and the beauty was the testimony and legacy he had left for his wife, his children and all who had the blessing of attending and viewing his memorial. Wonderful, personal stories were shared about his fun and quirky personality, his determination, devotion, and commitment to his chosen profession, and his thriving, vibrant and constant love for and trust in his God. We joined thousands of people who lined his procession route in the bitter weather holding signs and waving flags to affirm his heroism and honor his bravery. Though certainly there was, is, and will be heartache for those whom he loved and who loved him, Jesus is using his loss to reach out and touch others with the truth of the Gospel. The beauty of a life well lived shines through.
