Silent Night. It’s been one of those for me. I tried to fill it with a few phone calls and text messages to friends while waiting in my car for my kids to emerge from their youth group meeting. No one answered. All was silent, and the hush filled my heart until I could no longer suppress my reality. The pain inside of me was going to find its voice, and the silence offered it a stage for release.
Rather than trying to hold the silence at bay, I gave in to it and allowed it to hold me. Cradle me. Collect all the tears that had been welling up within me. In those moments of surrender, the Father allowed me to move out of my silent night so that I might enter into another one—the holy quiet belonging to Bethlehem some 2000 years ago.
Mary’s labored breathing followed by the push and pressure of Emmanuel’s eagerness to make his entrance. Joseph’s soft responses to his beloved. Stabled animals shuffling in the hay. Neighs and brays; snorts and sneezes. Whispers of the wind stirring as symphony. A baby crying. The boisterous interruption of a heavenly choir.
And therein, my momentary pain was overshadowed by lasting remembrance.
Perhaps this is the beauty of a silent night … when sorrow bumps up next to Salvation. When pain nestles closely to Promise.When that which is holding us so tightly releases its grip to the mighty Hold of heaven—tiny fingers wrapped around human hurt, reminding us that all has not been lost in the silent night. Instead, all has been gained there, in that place of sacred collision.
It doesn’t seem reasonable, this holding of peace while simultaneously holding pain. But it feels right. Even in the ache, I’m willing to take hold of it, make sense of it, because the thread that ties me to the eternal is stronger than the frayed threads that tie me to the temporal. I am made for heaven, and a silent night tethers me to home.
Maybe today you’re wrapped up in a heart-hurt. Life has surprised you with pain, an unexpected grief that threatens to steal your peace. You have nowhere to place it, no friend to shoulder the load. The silence is deafening, and your escape uncertain.
Me too. Greater yet, God too! God is with us as we make our pilgrimages to Bethlehem this year, as we wrestle with our pain and strive to make peace out of chaos.
Emmanuel is in the manger. Emmanuel is in our silent nights. Emmanuel … holding our hearts. Healing our hurts. Keeping us safe. Walking us home.
How I love the gift of Jesus; how I need this blessed grace! On this silent night, I bend the knee and bow the heart to honor the King’s advent in my life. ‘Tis a sweet mercy and a blessed trust to have my silence interrupted by the great and glad declarations of heaven. As always …
Oh holy, quiet Bethlehem;
Tonight I linger here.
Beneath your stars, within your walls,
Your truth resounding clear.
The Baby cries his advent;
The momma cries relief.
The daddy cries his tears of joy;
The heavens cry belief.
How lovely is this moment;
That lingers then and now.
Both quiet and both willing,
For peace to take a bow.
To enter in and change me;
To soften pain with praise.
To dry my tears with silence,
To cause my hope to raise.
Oh silent night! Oh holy night!
You’ve never sung so strong.
So clear, so true, so tenderly,
Relieving all that’s wrong.
You are where I’ll linger;
You are where I’ll sing.
For unto to me a child is born,
Onto him I’ll cling.
(F. Elaine Olsen, 2013, all rights reserved.)
F. Elaine Olsen creates words with her Creator at Peace for the Journey. She is the author of two books, Peace for the Journey and Beyond Cancer’s Scars. To join in on the conversation and to learn more about her books (and the awesome, Christmas special she’s offering!), please visit her website.
Elaine, thank you for this. I’ve had those moments that seem like forever, when no one was around, no phone answered, no text message replied to. Everything on FB has been read or answered. Now what? I think it’s hard for us to give in and give over to God. I think sometimes we are intentional in our prayers to Him each morning; having set aside time to study, to ponder and to read. But when all is quiet, and we have time to reflect on all of the life that keeps us busy, sometimes it feels like I’m just going through the motions here until I get to go Home. I think it’s healthy to be sad, homesick even, hurt beyond belief. Because the conclusion you drew was the same one I think about (generally the last thing I think about) is to start up a conversation with our Dad. He has kept me company, comforted my sorrow, taught me through sleepless nights, and helped me cope with my pain. I think giving over to the pain, the suppression, the avoidance, draws us nearer to His peace. Because you’re right, we’re not meant for this world. Giving in to Him allows us to get closer to Home, to get wrapped up in the folds of His Robe and to be safe, even when the sorrow is overwhelming. I love your poem. I’m printing it out to tack near my computer. Thank you for today’s message. I look forward to visiting your website.
Getting “wrapped up in the folds of his garment” – Yes, I know what this feels like, Katie. I’ve been there this morning. Just absorbing Jesus – the great Encourager and Comforter. While I don’t always appreciate the pain attached to my silent nights, I appreciate the close hold of the Father in them all. It really is sweet communion. Peace to you this Christmas!
I needed these words today and I know that I have been blessed by God putting you in my path. Some nights those times of silence become so loud that it takes some pain and some tears to remember the birth of that tiny one so long ago. I love this poem and I want to reread it every day as we make our way to Bethlehem this year. Holiday encouragement is need in this home during these times of regrets, fears, and broken hearts. Turning it over AGAIN for that Silent Night. Thanks for your friendship and your prayers. Yes, a Holy Night will relieve the pain in this house as we remember that He told this family in the manger and we will see the star.
I’m glad you stopped by, Hattie. This is the perfect season to draw our hearts closer to Christ. The manger seems an apt place for such discovery. There’s peace, hope, warmth, joy, love, tenderness, and LIFE to be be found there. I’m so glad we can walk the road together.
Elaine,
Your words always take mark where they should in me. I have been having some of those days–many to be sure–I find my peace in the Lord when I finally let go and realize I can do nothing. Wonderful post as always!
I think in the “letting go” we find the purest, most divine rest for our souls. I don’t know why it sometimes takes me so long to arrive there! I do know that what I’ve felt in these past couple of days has been rich fortification for the releases to come. Blessings, friend.
What a way to begin December, Elaine. This just blessed my heart today, and helped me to focus. December can mean so much, or be so filled up that we run right past it. Thank you for this precious reminder my friend.
Love you!
Yes! Your post is just what I needed to read today, friend. You always seem to write exactly what I need to hear, based on what’s going on in my life at that time…are you looking over my shoulder? 😉
Thank you for reminding me that I need to let go, allowing God to do things His way and in His time. It’s in the stillness of those silent nights that we hear His voice, finding peace and rest in the midst of the turmoil.
Your poem is absolutely beautiful…I can almost hear a melody being written to those words. Do you hear it?
Love you…
Yes, Beth. It wrote like a melody. It means a lot to me. Love doing lie with you!
Elaine, I’m sure you can guess how much your post and poem resonate with me this Christmas season. They are absolutely beautiful — so full of hope and healing. Thanks so much for sharing. I’m sorry you’re going through a time of pain. Love how you said his tiny fingers are wrapped around our hurt. Sending my hug as well.
Elaine, how lovely. I love how you weave pictures in my mind, and how your heart speaks the words I feel, but sometimes can’t express.
Yes, pain and promise, heartache and joy – it’s all mixed in there lately for me. And there have been some silent, lonely nights when I’ve lain awake, alone and scared.
But, a baby – THE baby – comes to me again with words of comfort, and cheer, and hope!
Jesus – the One who understands.
GOD BLESS!
(Loved your beautiful poem, too)
This has described my past 4 years –
“…when sorrow bumps up next to Salvation. When pain nestles closely to Promise.”
Melanie – thanks so much for stopping by. Elaine’s gift of the written word hits me in all those tender places, too.