A hush fell over the darkened auditorium as the lights dimmed in anticipation of the tradition set to unfold for the crowded room. At the head of each aisle at the back of the auditorium a choral member robed in burgundy began to walk toward the risers ascending on the stage while singing a medley of Christmas carols in a cappella. Each carried a battery- operated candle as they moved forward. A select group in the center aisle were robed in white.

As the nearly 150 – member choral group began to file into the eleven rows of seats on the risers, those in white robes formed a cross in the sea of burgundy robes. With everyone in place, the last carol began. As the strains of “Silent Night” began to echo through the room the choral members began to extinguish their candles beginning at the edges and moving toward the center where those robed in white formed the large cross. In the end as the humming of the carol continued only the candles in the cross remained lit.

The notes then began as the instruments played the overture to begin the memorable performance of Handel’s sacred oratorio, “The Messiah.” One might expect this was happening in a grand cathedral, but it was actually my high school auditorium where an exceptional choral director trained his young musicians to rise to exceptional skill in singing this classic work each December for many decades. The opportunity to participate was coveted and often alumni would join the current select a cappella choir made up of sophomores, juniors, and seniors.

It was a different time, a time when sacred musical selections were regularly included in the repertories of public-school choirs along with musicals, popular tunes, and assorted musical styles. It was a time when the choral director taught the significance of this great classical work by Handel and students knew and heard the scriptural lyrics leaping off of each page of the work.

All these years later those months of preparation for the performance and what we learned of the music and the story the music told still echoes in the hearts, minds, and spirits of those who had this privilege. Though this oratorio is celebrated and sung by choruses and choirs with great orchestras in many places, this local tradition was unique.

One might wonder what Handel would have thought as these young musicians tackled this impressive work that he composed in three or four weeks between August and September 1741. What inspired such majesty or that of the text of words by the prominent librettist, Charles Jennens, for a planned first performance for Easter in 1742? Clearly, the scripture that flows on every page with all the glory of Handel’s crescendos must have been inspired by God to last and maintain such enthusiastic loyalty for over 280 years.

The pandemic of 2020 left stages silent of performances whether in orchestral series, university choral schedules or concerts by churches large enough to conquer the large work. Despite all the Christmas music played on numerous media all day and night, few offered this complete work, but those who were caught up in its power in lyrics and sound dusted off recordings to enjoy as they reflected on the songs that echo from heaven.

The opening tenor solo from Isaiah 40: 1-11 brings good news in the words, “Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people; Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God…” (How much we need his comfort this year too as the pandemic still haunts us and new viruses and the economy leaves us anxious.) And the good news doesn’t stop there as the first chorus begins, “And the glory, the glory of the Lord, shall be revealed…” Oh, that we could see and sense that glory and focus on it rather than the other darker things that seek to overtake our thoughts.

As people of Advent the scriptures flowing on every line of this grand musical score should lift up our hearts and heads long before the first part of the oratorio ends. We must remember.

“God is the reason why we are living in the not yet.”

Mary Geisen in The Advent Narrative

Will you not awaken and rise up long before the end of the second part of the oratorio when the grand Hallelujah chorus begins?

That glorious chorus brought King George II to his feet in the 1743 London premiere of the oratorio and the rest of the audience joined him. So great was the impact that this tradition continues every time this end of the second part of the oratorio is sung.

But the message and the oratorio doesn’t end there even though not everyone has heard the entire work. Part 3 speaks of Easter and the Lord’s coming in the Advent yet to be in the choral works entitled “I Know My Redeemer Liveth,” “Since by Man Came Death,” “Behold, I Tell You a Mystery,” “The Trumpet Shall Sound,” and more, ending with “Worthy is the Lamb” with the grand progressions of “amen’s.”

This grand oratorio tells the Gospel to the strains of Handel’s composition and for many decades it was etched in the hearts of groups of high school choral groups in a small midwestern town in Ohio. The call of the Gospel – let us never forget, even in seasons of shadow and darkness – especially then.

“What matters is the call of the gospel, the promise of God, and your task of being faithful and patient in the present, ‘until it be thoroughly finished.'”

N.T. Wright

It can be easy to become lethargic in a waiting season and only look at the waiting, to forget we are waiting for or on something. The more whatever or whoever it is means to us, the harder the wait. I wonder what that looks like this season of Advent for us when the world around us has turned upside down and languishes in shadow. The pandemic’s impact lingers two years later and new viruses assault us. The economy shudders and our focus on celebrating gets distracted by these challenges and cares we face and others as well.

When we are waiting on someone or something we value a great deal, the things we always did before the waiting season can diminish in seeming importance as we yearn for what is not yet.

As I begin to bring out Christmas decorations, I recall so many other Christmases. I am sure that is true of you. Some of these are the most precious ones while others are the hardest ones. Living more than a few years will give us samples of both. Some we recall as if we are reliving them all over again.

One of those etched in my memory was one more than 50 years ago during a fourteen-month period when military duty called my husband halfway around the world. While he was away our first child was born and that Christmas should have been such an exciting “first” for us, but my husband’s absence cast a shadow over the season of decorating, shopping, baking, and caroling. My heart was not able to get caught up in all the joy of those things, but I began to shift its focus to it as a time of preparation for the day he would return despite not knowing the exact date.

Yes, we celebrated Christmas and I sent my husband gifts of all sorts including a small Christmas tree and a variety of goodies. Yes, we lavished special things on our son and our extended family did their best to make the season as bright as they could for us. I prepared for that season, but my focus was on the one ahead when he would prayerfully return and our life as a family in one place truly begin.

There have been many hard seasons since then, but every year at Christmas that year so long ago replays in my memory. And this year it reminds me of what I learned about focusing on preparing in the midst of waiting on someone or something more important to me than the Christmas traditions that I love.

If we are truly Advent people, should that not be true of us as well despite the state of the world both near and far, despite the grief we may feel, despite the malaise that threatens to jump right over Christmas for many this year?

Have you considered that we are not the only ones waiting?

“God is always on time. He waits for us at the same time we are waiting for Him. God is the Keeper of the Vision and the Author of what will come next. Rest in knowing He is writing your story and is ready to call you up to prepare the way for others.”

Mary Geisen in The Advent Narrative

It can be far too easy to forget that He is waiting in our self-focus and wearied waiting. He has been waiting on mankind to turn to Him and discover not only a babe in a manger and soon-coming King, but also to learn that He is a companion to journey with us in the waiting.

Our desire loses sight of the grand story playing out, of the bigger picture that delays his coming. He sees how many have yet to choose Him. He sees we are too often slumbering. He sees too many are not ready despite the words they may say.

“Our compulsive timetables collide with God’s leisurely providence. We tell God not only what to do but when to do it. We take him seriously – why else would we be praying? – but we take ourselves more seriously, telling him exactly what he must do for us and when.”

Eugene Peterson in Run with the Horses

Perhaps in this darker season He is seeking us to awaken from the routine life we are living. Perhaps this year our attention should pivot.

“He continues to teach that we do not know when the Son of Man will come again so we must remain vigilant. The call to stay awake is not always a physical vigilance. God calls us to an awareness that prepares us to dive deeper into relationship with Himself and others, and to better understand ourselves.”

Mary Geisen in The Advent Narrative

This is a season for not just reading your favorite scriptures about that first Advent or recite prayers reflective of a more casual relationship with the Lord. He longs for more than that. Do we?

“Prayer is never complete and unrelieved solitude; it is, though, carefully protected and skillfully supported intimacy. Prayer is the desire to listen to God firsthand, to speak to God firsthand, and then setting aside the time and making the arrangements to do it.”

Eugene Peterson in Run with the Horses

Yes, it is a different season for many, but it is also a season for each of us that should be different for other reasons than those that come to mind. It will require a choice, a sacrifice of our own disappointment with what is for what will be.

“God loves waking up our sluggish hearts.”

Mary Geisen in The Advent Narrative

It is not easy to be alert and awake when we are weary, but sometimes we can miss that the weariness can come not only from our own living but also from the evil one who would desire us to stay asleep, sluggishly dozing in a stupor, when the “not yet” is just ahead. Evil wants us to be distracted by the scary shadowy pall it casts over the world and our own neighborhood, but God’s call to us urges something else even as He urged his disciples in the time He was praying before He went to the cross.

What does “awake waiting” look like?

“It’s wearing a sense of watchfulness throughout our lives, and when we do, our Advent lives of waiting are filled with seeing Jesus in our every day ordinary.”

Mary Geisen in The Advent Narrative

*Our daughter made the stockings years ago as a special treat that I still treasure because we had no fireplace growing up and no stockings hung by the tree.

One of our Christmas traditions each year is to take time to watch our favorite Christmas movies. We never tire of them even though we know some of the lines so well we can quote them easily. Each one seems to connect with a family memory of some sort whether from our own childhood or time with our own children. Not all of them focus on the story of the Christ Child’s birth and yet many of them pick up the themes that are the center of Christmas whether they intend to do so or not.

One of our favorites is Polar Express that lit up the screens of movie theaters everywhere in 2004. The animation is magical and the musical score a delight. At first glance what you discover is how the movie tells the story of one little boy in particular who has stopped believing in Santa Claus. Then one Christmas Eve a magical train appears outside his bedroom window and the conductor invites him to come aboard to travel to the North Pole with a group of other children.

The boy is skeptical about getting on the train because he doesn’t believe Santa Claus exists, but reluctantly decides to do so. Most of you know the story from seeing the movie. Among the many things that happen on the trip and after they arrive at the North Pole, the most poignant is when Santa appears just at midnight heralded by trumpets and cheering elves. Reindeer adorned with beautiful sleigh bells are prancing excitedly, but the boy cannot hear the sound of the bells because of his unbelief. He is so struck by how everyone else can hear them that he makes the decision to believe and once he does, he can hear the bell.

As we watched the movie a few weeks ago, some of the images and themes really stood out as a metaphor for the true Christmas story of the birth of Jesus. You may consider what I am about to share as a bit of a stretch, but bear with me as I try to pull back the view of the story to allow you to see what I began to sense.

Many are like the boy in Polar Express who didn’t believe in Santa Claus. We haven’t seen God so how do we really know He exists. Many at the time of Jesus even saw the child who grew into manhood and still did not believe this was the Son of God.

The boy couldn’t envision how Santa Claus could know every child on the earth and manage to be everywhere on Christmas Eve. We can struggle to wrap our minds around an all knowing and all loving God who is at once everywhere and yet knows each of us intimately and calls us by name.

The boy learned lessons about friendship, sharing, and giving while on the trip even with others who are not like him. Our life in Christ is about that too. It means joining in relationship with others who may not be at all like us in any number of ways and learning lessons about what it means to be selfless, sacrificing, and sharing.

One of the powerful lessons the movie depicts comes at the end of the movie where the voice of the boy (now a man) shares about how so many others stopped being able to hear the bells after they were older, but he had determined to believe and had never given up so the bells still rang for him.

The metaphor?

I need to decide to believe in the Babe in the manger despite all the things about it that may not make sense. Once I make that decision and He lives within my heart, I can hear Him speaking to my heart, mind, and spirit, even as the boy could hear the bells once he decided to believe in Santa Claus. But I must continue to nurture that belief throughout my lifetime in order to continue to hear His voice whether through His Word, through creation, through a message or a piece of beautiful music. If I allow everything else in my life to crowd out my belief in Him, I will not be able to hear Him because I am not even listening any more.

The conductor of the train portrayed by Tom Hanks speaks one of the most memorable lines in the movie. Look at what he says:

“Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can’t see.”

The line reminds me of the words of Jesus in John 20:19 (MSG):

Jesus said, “So, you believe because you’ve seen with your own eyes. Even better blessings are in store for those who believe without seeing.”

The boy had never really seen Santa Claus so he didn’t believe. For many, they have not seen Christ in the flesh so they cannot believe. For those who make that decision, the verse in John speaks of the blessings that will follow.

The other scene in the movie that made me smile and think of the time ahead is the scene at the North Pole. Just at midnight Santa appears to the sounds of trumpets, bells, and cheering.

We who believe are inching ever closer to midnight while we anticipate the Second Advent.

Will we hear the trumpets and bells and be cheering in joy?

Will WE believe?

Not all of us grew up enjoying history as students in school. It may have been boring or seemed irrelevant with the life we were living. Often our view of the subject was impacted by the teachers we had. I was one of those who had some amazing history teachers (as well as a dad who loved history) so the subject was no chore for me. Sometime during my senior high school American History class, my teacher shared the quote by George Santayana from his work, The Life of Reason, written in 1905: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

Even if you are not a history lover, you may well have heard the quote as it has often been repeated by such notables as Winston Churchill. I was reminded of those words again when our pastor noted in his sermon, “You must look at the past to understand the present,” as he spoke about the presence of God on the earth beginning in Genesis before we enter the Christmas scene with Jesus being born. He noted that there were many times He is on the earth in many moments before that night we now move toward celebrating.

That message is front and center in the newly released book by Eric Metaxas, Letter to the American Church. This bold book offers crisp insights into the German church of 1932 and 1933 and parallels what the author sees with the American church of today. As one whose research into this era in Germany before writing his epic work, Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy, he is uniquely qualified to observe comparisons most might miss and more of us would prefer not to see. But Metaxas implores the reader to courageously see and note what he points to as clear similarities knowing that not unlike the German church of that period, we would prefer to not look at or deny what seems evident.

Metaxas defines the American position in the world as follows in the introduction, “We should underscore the idea that the centrality of our nation in the world does not mean that we are intrinsically exceptional, but that rather God has sovereignly chosen us to hold the torch of liberty for all the world and that the Church is central to our doing this.”

“We must also remind ourselves that when God chooses anyone – whether the nation of Israel or a single person – to perform any role or task, it is not something to be celebrated, as though the one chosen has won a contest. Quite the contrary: it is a grave and fearsome responsibility.”

Eric Metaxas

So it is with this understanding, Metaxas calls upon the American church to look without flinching at where it stands now, its call from God, and what we are missing as we speak of evil always being present in the world .

“The evil of today is different from the evil of yesterday or of tomorrow, and when Jesus enjoins us to be ‘shrewd as serpents,’ it means we must understand this. We must not be thoughtlessly sucked along into the mainstream of popular thinking, since that is often the broad road that leads to destruction. We have to take care to read the signs of the times. And no one understood this and lived it out better than Dietrich Bonhoeffer.”

Eric Metaxas

Anyone familiar with the work of Metaxas will not be surprised by the bold writing they will find in this book. Though some who read it may squirm or disagree, it seems evident the author will rest in the surety that he has fulfilled his responsibility to point out how little by little over time the American church and its leaders have become more silent (even as the German church of the early 1930’s) as the culture of the nation with its failings and lack of moral compass has infected the church more than the church has informed and impacted the culture.

In a chapter entitled “The Spiral of Silence,” Metaxas writes, “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act. God will not hold us guiltless.”

Page by page, the reader is challenged to examine what he or she believes versus what we claim to believe, to be sobered and recognize what we truly believe will be evident in our choices, our actions, and our behaviors. And Metaxas makes clear that what is evident should reflect the God we say we believe in rather than the cultural view of what is right and good, or wrong and evil.

Make no mistake, this 139-page book is a challenge and a call to see what we would prefer not to see and repent of failing to live out what we say we believe, what we repeat in our creeds in our places of worship, and what we will be judged on. It is an important book with praise from notables such as Anne Graham Lotz, Edwin Lutzer, Allen Jackson, Michael Youssef PhD, Wayne Grudem, and David Engelhardt.

“So we must ask ourselves: Does how I live show God that I actually believe what I claim to believe? Or does how I live show God that I do not actually believe what I claim to believe?”

Eric Metaxas