After last year’s Christmas post, one could be forgiven for responding to this news with a bit of (good-natured, I’d hope) ribbing, but:
I’ve just written a new Christmas song.
The world, you see, is full of un-beautiful stuff right now. And while I do still firmly believe that the contemporary American approach to Christmas is largely a manifestation of—if not even a source of—that stuff, I also think that the heart of the Christmas story points us toward truths that are beautiful—that that story can serve as an antitoxin, if you will, for what is poisoning our society today.
Sometimes I just need reminders to practice seeking beauty in unexpected places, I guess. So here’s my latest attempt. Take it to heart, if you like. (And if you really love it, you can purchase print music for this piece.)
“The Kind of Christmas”
A quiet time with ones you love,
without a thought for what’s beneath the tree….
It’s dark outside. The earth is cold.
But in this house, you’re safe with family.
Around the room you see all your favorite faces,
though they don’t all resemble your own.
And in the still of this silent night,
you know for more than sure you’re not alone.
Bundled up in mismatched clothes,
and singing songs whose words you don’t quite know….
Nothing here is perfect, but
there’s no place else on earth you’d rather go.
The fairy tales about angels, kings, and shepherds
fill those younger than you with delight.
And somehow the tale of that little town
works magic on your jaded heart tonight.
Immanuel: Even here, even now, you’re not alone.
Not a place, but a presence, makes this home.
And though sometimes you forget,
Immanuel: Something greater than the lies you’ve heard is true.
You have a home no matter what you do.
And you know it, too.
That’s the kind of Christmas I wish for you.
You share a glance, a bashful smile,
and yesterday’s regrets dissolve away.
Wounded pride and hurtful words,
they matter less than family today.
You start to see the full value of forgiveness,
and you promise to do, or to try.
And with those words, you find, in the bleak midwinter,
that the stars all shine brighter in the sky.
Immanuel: Even here, even now, you’re not alone.
Not a place, but a presence, makes this home.
And though sometimes you forget,
Immanuel: Something greater than the lies you’ve told is true.
You have a home no matter what you do.
And you know it, too.
That’s the kind of Christmas—
a holy kind of Christmas—
that’s the kind of Christmas I wish for you.