We had been planning for months (years) our trip to New York at Christmas. Since we met, we had discussed how much we both wanted to experience New York City during the holidays, hoping it would be just like every movie depicted.
As the days got closer and packing and planning took over, I almost forgot how much I really wanted to go. Why are we doing this again? With all of the stress and all of the final arrangements so close to Christmas? When we have to settle the kids with the grandparents and decide what we will DO once we actually arrive in the city?
When presents must be purchased before departure because there will be no time when we return, and bills must be paid and mail must be gathered and the dog must be watched?
How badly did we really want to go?
But when it was all said and done, and everything was in order, and the traveling was complete, we stepped out on the hive-like streets of NYC. They weren’t just buzzing with people but were buzzing with the holiday chaos. It was magical. It was everything I ever wanted it to be, and absolutely nothing like I expected.
I take in the folks everywhere and realize that I am a girl from a small town that just got a lot smaller. How insignificant I felt as one of the many herded down into the subways.
Impatient patrons tapped their feet behind me as I tried to slide my shiny new metro card. Failed attempts were met with heavy sighs until it swiped just right and my husband and I stepped through the gates only to realize we weren’t where we wanted to be at all.
Above ground wasn’t much better. There was honking and sirens and shouting and pushing and squeezing and shuffling and the coming and going was almost too much.
I had expected the tree in Rockefeller Center, or the ice skating in Bryant Park, or the elaborate window displays on 5th Avenue to make this year finally feel like Christmas. But they didn’t. They were beautiful and magical and just like every movie said they would be…
But my heart finally felt like Christmas in the chaos below. Down on the subway I finally felt it deep in my heart, and it moved me to tears.
Among the trash and the litter and the newspapers pressed up against the walls. Among the business and the hurried paths and people seen as objects around which to navigate rather than interact, I heard it.
Fall on your knees! O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born;
I began to cry. The truth of Christ’s birth proclaimed! Pure voices and hearts heralding the arrival of the only One who gives meaning to the going. I wanted to stop and praise! I wanted to join and sing and hope that others would do the same! I wanted to stop the man and his briefcase that was annoyed that he had to navigate around them (the singers in a corner) and tell him that the worst thing wasn’t being late,
It was being lost!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
‘Til He appear’d and the soul felt its worth.
It was a small 20 second stop in the middle of the busy subway station, but it was enough. It was a light in the darkness. The growing glow that illuminated even for a moment the truth of Christmas.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Weary world. Oh weary world. World caught up in “rightness.” World wanting so desperately to make sure all are heard even if that means quieting some. World wanting and needing and pleading and begging for meaning and purpose all on our way to things that wont bring any of it. World, don’t we hear?! The angels still proclaim the truth!
There in the dark damp corner on a stage of shattered subway tiles, a few voices joined them.
Christ has come. And for me, He met me below ground at the corner of Lexington and 77th.
There is beauty in the simplicity of the song. A song that rang out and echoed down the tunnels and over the crowd. Even if no one stopped. Even if not one person stopped to feel in their spirits God’s truth proclaimed, it was sung over each one. It couldn’t have been a purer picture of our lives.
The song of Christ’s love. The song of redemption. The song of Jesus’ birth sung out as we go not stopping to hold cling to the message.
There will always be something.
Something that takes away from the purity of the message of Christ’s birth. But there will also always be those who take the time to stop.
Quiet all of the rest of the noise and sing. Proclaim. Praise. Magnify. Sanctify the day that He was born.
I am reminded of the night during World War I when soldiers from both sides stopped fighting and put down their weapons. They had a spontaneous cease-fire and sang “silent night” from either sides, even meeting in the middle to exchange gifts and play soccer.
From the battle field to the subway, the mystery of Christ’s birth unites us all. It unites both sides of the battle field, both ends of society and those on both sides of the debate.
Do you hear it tonight? A song over all of the arguing. A song over all of the chaos. A song over all of the struggle for rightness. A song over all of the business…
Quiet your hearts. You can still hear the voices proclaim.
O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth.
