I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day: Parents, Claim the Truth of the Gospel Amidst Hardship
Longfellow digs beneath his pain to something so engrained in him as a follower of Christ that it has to surface, even in the darkest of times: the Gospel.
Longfellow digs beneath his pain to something so engrained in him as a follower of Christ that it has to surface, even in the darkest of times: the Gospel.
Youth need to learn that while they were still sinners, Christ died for them. They need to hear that God so loved them that he gave his Son—who died voluntarily in their place to cancel the debt of their sins.
When we sing this hymn, we are putting ourselves in the shoes of a first century Jew who is longing to be free from exile, oppression, and suffering… Here we are, two centuries later, not needing to stretch our imaginations too much to understand what that longing would have been like.
Christmas isn’t the Hallmark movie of the Bible. The triumph of God and his Messiah over evil is a story we are involved in.
In unconditional love, God not only calls me child but heir to all he possesses. In the light of this glorious truth, my inadequacies fade in importance.
Romance isn’t the highest form of love. Christ’s full giving of himself to redeem those who were dead in their sins and trespasses, receiving nothing in return, is the highest form of love. Every form of love, even romantic love, is to find its source in that truth.
When we are confronted with needs around us, Christmas frees us from asking, “What will this cost me?” so that we can begin to ask, “How will this serve someone else?”
So, what do you say in the midst of this aching world when your children are reeling (and so are you)? You proclaim the hope and glory of God. You tell yourself and your family the truth.
If we over-fondly remember pre-pandemic “normal” as some kind of Eden we’ve been kicked out of, we risk sounding like the Israelites yearning for slavery in Egypt as they faced the privations of the desert.