Monday, December 23, 2013

Silent Night, Holy Night



It was Christmas Eve, 1818, in the small Alpine village of Oberndorf. What a time for the church organ at St. Nicholas Church to refuse to work!

The Austrian priest, Joseph Mohr, had written the lyrics to a new hymn that he called, "Silent Night, Holy Night." But without the organ, how would he be able to share this with the congregation? When we have created something beautiful, we want to share it. He had a dilemma.

Joseph Mohr gave the lyrics to his new song to Franz Xavier Gruber, who set the poem to music for the guitar, finishing the score just in time for Christmas Eve.

In their yearning to fill a need in this little church, these two men tapped into their God-given creativity and made the Christmas narrative breathtakingly lovely for millions around the world. Everyone, from little children to seasoned adults, has been touched by its beauty.


The Silent Night Memorial Chapel in Oberndorf, Austria

You and I may not be able to create something as fabulous as this wonderful hymn, but we still have a longing in our hearts to touch other people's lives. I think that, especially at this time of year, we have a desire to give back, to bless others, to touch the lives of those around us.

We know this is the season for giving. We give tangible, gorgeously wrapped gifts to express how much we appreciate God's gift of His Son who was born in a stable and laid in a manger. We want to acknowledge God's great sacrificial gift to us. I think that is what our hearts yearn for when we speak of "getting into the Christmas spirit." We want to feel we are doing something meaningful, doing something that will touch other lives.

After the gifts have been opened, we feel sort of let down.

But perhaps that is the time, when the tinsel and glitz are past, to do the real giving.

We can purpose in our hearts to give the really important gifts every day of the year - a loving word to someone who is weary, an encouraging touch that says, "You are doing a good job and I appreciate you." And let us not underestimate the value of a kind message to someone who may not even know he needs it. Loving-kindness has a beauty all its own.

You and I cannot top "Silent Night," but we can strive to ease weary hearts all year long.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

A Good Question

I came across an interesting question recently that caused me to do some heart-searching.

Here it is: Do people miss me when I leave the room?

That led me to ask myself some other questions, like, what kind of people do I miss when they leave the room?
Here are some of the types of people I miss:

People who are peacemakers. These people seem to have the ability to pour oil on troubled waters. Instead of escalating conflicts, they bring harmony and calmness. Gentle people who bring sweetness to the situation.
A lovely fragrance seems to linger in the wake of these people. They encourage and affirm us and help us to aspire to be better.

People who bring leadership. I have had a boss is like that. He knew how to gives the staff direction and a sense that everything is under control. Instead of concentrating on problems, he seemed to thrive on finding creative solutions. People who bring constructive criticism and new ideas. Even though we might find these ideas uncomfortable, we know we need to hear them out. They make us think deeply.

People who are followers. Leaders are great, but we also need followers. These are the people we can count on to quietly get the job done. They do not ask to be in the limelight; they do not really ask to be noticed; they are content to serve God in the background.
It is a good idea to acknowledge these quiet workers though, and thank them for their service.

Maybe you can see yourself in these different categories.
I want to be missed when I leave the room. I hope you want that, too.

Friday, December 6, 2013

A Missionary at Last

When I became a Christian at about 12 years old, I told God I wanted to serve Him all my life. In my mind that meant being a missionary, probably in a foreign land. I made several attempts, but in spite of my best efforts, something always got in the way - health, wealth (or lack thereof), family obligations, life circumstances.

So I just tried to bloom wherever I was planted. As a matter of fact I was translated many, many times through the years.

I even whispered at one low point, "Lord, I gave you my life. Don't you want my service?"

I felt sheepish for complaining, but I wanted to do more and my sphere of influence seemed to be so small, so limited,. especially compared to others. Compared to others? Oops - now I had to confess envy and jealousy So I did the I John 1:9 thing - I acknowledged my sin and accepted God's forgiveness.

I was soon to learn one of God's paradoxes - the way up is down. In the providence of God, I spent some time in the fiery furnace, and I learned that the furnace can be a lovely, purifying experience when the Son of God is right there in the furnace with me. And even in the furnace, my heart began to overflow with joy. To my delight, ministry opportunities began to increase

About that time I came across a quote from missionary statesman Dick Hillis. "Every heart without Christ is a mission field; every heart with Christ is a missionary." Those words gave me heart's ease. I could stop striving to be a missionary and thank God that I am one.

What is my mission? To show forth the love of the Lord Jesus Christ. I am a flawed earthen vessel - with fissures and cracks and holes. All the better to let Jesus, the light of the world, shine forth. Al the better to let the perfume, the very fragrance of Jesus waft through the air. And my mission field is all around me.