Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hope. Show all posts

Friday, December 26, 2014

Christmas Bells

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play, 
    And wild and sweet 
    The words repeat 
Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

And thought how, as the day had come, 
The belfries of all Christendom 
    Had rolled along 
    The unbroken song 
Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

Till ringing, singing on its way, 
The world revolved from night to day, 
    A voice, a chime, 
    A chant sublime 
Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

Then from each black, accursed mouth 
The cannon thundered in the South, 
    And with the sound 
    The carols drowned 
Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

It was as if an earthquake rent 
The hearth-stones of a continent, 
    And made forlorn 
    The households born 
Of peace on earth, good-will to men! 

And in despair I bowed my head; 
“There is no peace on earth," I said; 
    “For hate is strong, 
    And mocks the song 
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!” 

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: 
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; 
    The Wrong shall fail, 
    The Right prevail, 
With peace on earth, good-will to men.”
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1807-1882
   I've long been familiar with the Christmas carol which uses lines from this poem, but I've only just become acquainted with the poem itself. Written by Longfellow at the height of the Civil War, it hits a bittersweet note, and threatens to end in despondency. After bemoaning the cannon fire rending the country apart, in the penultimate stanza he despairs, "There is no peace on earth... For hate is strong, and mocks the song of peace on earth, good-will to men!"
   That winter as Longfellow sat down to write this poem he had much more than the war to despair of. In 1835, after only four years of marriage, his wife had a miscarriage and died. He remarried in 1843, but lost his second wife after a flame from a candle set her dress on fire. Longfellow attempted to put the fire out, suffering burns to his face in the process, but to no avail. (Eighteen years later, he wrote a poignant sonnet where he called his wife's death the cross that he would always bear.)   His eldest daughter had died several years earlier, and only two years after his wife's death, Longfellow's eldest son ran off without his father's permission to join the Union army. In 1863, this son was hit by a bullet which nearly left him paralyzed. As young Charles recovered in his father's house, Longfellow penned "Christmas Bells".
   That first Christmas after his wife died, Longfellow wrote in his diary, "How inexpressively sad are all holidays." The following Christmas he wrote, "'A merry Christmas' say the children, but that is no more for me." And, then, two years later, in Christmas 1863, he reached deep within to draw consolation and hope from a source outside himself.  After announcing that there is no peace on earth, the loudly pealing bells remind him "God is not dead, nor doth he sleep; The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men."
   Longfellow's reminder to remember that God is good is something we all must remind ourselves of, even as the world around us looks bleak and hopeless. As we celebrate the birth of Christ this season, I pray that we take comfort from the hope that God doth not sleep and that right shall prevail.


Tuesday, May 20, 2014

In Sickness and In Health


     A friend posted this on Facebook this morning and it blew me away.  If you don't feel like watching it (although you should-- it's powerful), the gist is that Ian and Larissa met in college, fell in love, and then he was in a car crash that devastated his brain and left him disabled.  Larissa chose to marry him anyway, and the love she shows for him, and for Jesus is haunting.

   For better or for worse.  In sickness and in health.  For richer or for poorer.

   One of the desires of my heart is to be married.  And yet.  As a Christian, marriage must mean something more than finding a companion to pass your days with.  It paints a picture of Christ's (sacrificial) love for his church.  It's a way that God uses to sanctify his people, to conform us more to Christ, to make us holier.

   I recently listened to a speaker talk about singleness.  In it she said something that shocked me.  She said she'd prayed that if it would glorify God the most to remain single then so be it.  She was giving him her singleness.  I've prayed to God that if it glorifies him the most for me to die tomorrow then, well, take my life, and I've prayed that if it brings Him glory to give me cancer or some debilitating disease then he should do as he will.  But this-- this giving up my hopes of being married and being a mother is totally radical to me.

   I'm encouraged by Ian and Larissa's story.  This isn't the marriage that either of them pictured, and yet they're faithful because of their dependence on Christ and what he has done for them.  I pray that God will continue to strengthen and bless their marriage and that the light of Christ will shine through their marriage so that all may see that he is Lord.

   And I pray that God uses my life to bring Him glory as well-- in singleness, in marriage, in my relationships, and in my lifelong walk towards that celestial city.