Christmas Bells

Happy it’s-November-7-and-our-Christmas-decorations-are-up-Saturday, friends!

Some things are just true.

I don’t make the rules, I just live by them.

Christmas decorations are wonderful, but they shouldn’t be displayed until after Thanksgiving!

I lived by this rule for the first 63 years and 11 months of my life.

That included 41 years of marriage to Mrs. Sweetie.

About two weeks before Thanksgiving last year, she told me we should put up the Christmas decorations.

I reminded her of the law of Christmas decorations.

She reminded me that I had gotten to do it my way for 41 years and now it was her turn.

And because I like her more than I like rule keeping, I started digging out the tubs.

If my math is correct, I’ll get to do it my way again when I’m 105.

This year she said we should start as soon as Halloween is over because I’ll be leaving the country for a mission trip the Monday after Thanksgiving.

So … here we are.

And don’t tell her I said so, but there’s something kinda sweet about walking into the living room in the early morning to the light of the Christmas tree.

I’ve been in the Advent/Christmas section of my hymnal for the last few weeks anyway (and rehearsing for our Christmas music mission since August), so it’s inevitable that thoughts are turned toward the season.

My hymn text today is “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” by American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The story of the poem is compelling, perhaps especially so in our current cultural moment.

Longfellow was a man well-acquainted with grief.

His first wife, Mary, died in 1835 at the age of 22 from complications following a miscarriage.

His second wife, Frances, died in 1861 when her dress caught on fire from the flame she was using to seal the wax on an envelope. Henry was severely burned himself in his attempts to smother the flames and wore a long full beard for the rest of his life to cover the scars on his face.

In 1863, his 18 year-old son, Charles ran away—against his father’s wishes—to enlist in the Union Cavalry during the American Civil war.

Charles was severely wounded in the back in November 1863, and Henry had to go to Washington to bring his now crippled son home.

On Christmas Day of that year, Henry was out walking. His heart was heavy with grief upon grief—not only personally, but with the ongoing war.

He heard church bells chiming the season and was inspired to write the poem first published as “Christmas Bells” and later set to music.

Knowing the background, it might be good for us to see the full original text of the poem.

Maybe that’s a good message for us today:

God’s not dead.

God’s not unaware.

God, in His goodness and righteousness, will ultimately prevail.

And, in that day, peace will reign on the earth.

May we use this season as a time to renew our faith in the Prince of Peace instead of figuring out ways to fight more effectively.

My home is much more peaceful when we focus more on hope, love, faith, and grace than in having it our own way.

Now, if I can just get Mrs. Sweetie to agree that it’s ok to leave the decorations up until Valentine’s Day …

Be amazing today, my friend.