"It Was Not A Silent Night"

by Pastor Sharon Ortiz, Pastor of Education

“It was not a silent night. There was blood on the ground. You could hear a woman cry in the alleyways at night in the streets of David’s town.”

These are the opening lines of Andrew Peterson’s Labor of Love. I recommend you find the lyrics to this song and take some time to sit with them. It reimagines—or rather, more accurately portrays—the silent night narrative we sing about every Christmas season. I’m sure the sweet moment of the Christmas carols happened at the birth of Jesus at some point; but before that serene scene, if we think about the context we must acknowledge how dire this situation must have been for Mary and Joseph. 

Here are two young newlyweds, about to become first-time parents. Far from home, they could not even find basic dwelling for the night, let alone conditions in which to birth a child. Mary, surrounded by stable animals, rather than a team of doctors; the feel of rough straw and the harsh night’s chill, rather than the warmth of her mother’s hand coaching and comforting her through her first labor; the smell of manure and sod, rather than ice chips and clean cloths; frantic Joseph wondering how he fits into all of this, trying to take care of his new wife in a domain he knows nothing about, second guessing everything about every second that lead to this moment. What should have been the most joyous and celebratory event of their lives was shrouded in distress, confusion, anguish, questions. But just as a pain that feels like death came upon them, the Savior of the world was born.

There’s a well-known saying that the night is darkest just before dawn. This was the case literally and figuratively with the birth of Jesus. Without the dawn, without the coming sun, we were destined to darkness, the consequences of our sin, unable to make our way back home to our father, no matter how hard we try on our own merit. Without the coming Son, we are confined to hopelessness, a life forever separated from love, light, eternal joy and truth. Knowing Jesus doesn’t mean that your life will never have trouble again, but it does mean that no matter the trouble you walk though in this world—no matter how dire or overwhelming, painful or awful that trouble is—there is always hope. This is the message of Christmas.

Beloved, are you troubled? There is hope. Are you afraid? There is hope. Are you weary? There is hope. Are you hurt? There is hope. Do you have more questions than answers? There is hope. I don’t know what you are walking through, but there is One who does. He came to die and rose again. He lives today and forevermore. He has defeated every power of darkness. He has conquered even death itself. Nothing can separate you from His love. Because He lives, we can face tomorrow. Because He lives, our day will never end in the darkness. The dawn is coming. Hold on, my friend, and never lose hope. You are loved. You are redeemed. You are secure. May all hope and joy flood your heart anew this Christmas and always. For the King has come. The King is here. And He is coming again.