A Christmas Gift to the American Home and the Youth of America. N. P. Gravengaard
only one, the angels looked.
When, then, you seek peace on earth, look not in the direction of the world, of the struggling masses, but look toward Jesus—not as He was that night on His mother's knee in the inn near Bethlehem—for He is there no more, but as He is in His church, in His word, and in His institutions. His church on earth is that mother's knee upon which you shall find Him, and where you, in a world filled with war and strife, shall find peace and repose for your own soul.
The angels made no attempt whatever to penetrate into the strife of the world or to unravel its troubles. Neither shall you so do. On the other hand, they tried to look into the eye of the Saviour, and there they beheld Peace—a heavenly Peace which they had not seen on earth since that evening hour when Adam and Eve were driven out of the Garden of Eden, and when one of their own kind was placed on guard with a flaming sword at the portals of Paradise. Then night fell upon earth. But Christmas Eve the new day began to arise from out of the darkness. Then they saw again a human being in the depth of whose soul reigned the Peace of Heaven, and therefore they bore their good will.
The peace and the good will, then, was in this one man, and through Him born into the millions of mankind. The angels had seen this one, and therefore they could sing as they did.
Perhaps you say: Well, I can understand plainly enough why God the Father and the holy angels should bear Him good will. But were I to join in the singing, I must needs be convinced that the Father would also bear me good will. That is what I need to be convinced about. But here I stand telling myself: The best acts in my life, the purest thoughts in my soul, are darkened by sin. What then?
Yes, that is true.
But, then, tell me: Have you not at times felt the nearness of Jesus? Was not He your soul's refuge in the darkness? Was not He like a luminous star in your life? Was He not yours—conceived within you in the sacred moment of baptism, born into the world with pangs within your soul—perhaps in the darkness of night? But then the Father in Heaven does bear you good will. He does not look at the darkness of sin within you—that, He knows, will be vanquished by the light of His son, but He looks at His only begotten Son who is the luminous star of your life—the only one, but splendid and bright.
Then you own in Him the Peace of Heaven and the good will of God our Father—and then you can join in the singing.
5. The Joy of Understanding (John 1, 1–14)
Who among us does not remember Christmas at home?—In my own childhood home there was no Christmas tree, but a remarkably impressive solemnity reigned above and upon all during Christmas. Sometimes I still wish that I might become a child once more and celebrate Christmas at home again, with father and mother, grandmother and all those dear ones. That cannot be done, however, for all these beloved ones are having Christmas in the mansions of Heaven—and I am no longer a child. But about these Christmas memories, I want to say: "God, let me never, never forget them!"
That was the joy without clearly conscious reasons. One was glad just because it was Christmas, but was unable to go into any further details about the reasons.
But now I am a child no more!—Are we as "grown-ups" to be satisfied with the memory of our childhood Christmas, and by witnessing the pleasure of the children—share a little of that Christmas sentiment which envelops all?
Undoubtedly, many people will answer: Yes, that is all. Christmas really is meant only for the children. Since we became experienced men and women who have become acquainted with the vexations and worries of life, we cannot thoroughly enjoy Christmas. To us, the law of life has been proclaimed in the words: "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken."
In the hard, wearying, suffering and struggling life of the world, the unconscious joy, that is, the joy that knows of no reason, is not enough. There is a craving for a joy that knows and understands the spirit of Christmas if one is to be completely glad—that is true!
But what does the Gospel say:
"And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us (and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father), full of grace and truth."
That means, that the only begotten Son of God, who was with God and who was Himself God, has descended and taken up his abode among us—not only among the children! No, indeed, also among grown-up and experienced men and women who must shoulder the burdens and heat of the day.
The Christmas message is the message that tells us that Jesus Christ, with Heavenly power and with Heavenly love, has taken up his abode among all working, struggling and suffering people upon earth—not like a haughty, indifferent onlooker at your work, your exertions, your struggle as we might imagine the son of the big manufacturer going into the shop looking at the toiling, perspiring workers with haughty, indifferent scorn and with a shrug of the shoulder.
No, Jesus Christ entered the life of mankind as a benevolent and powerful participant in it, so that you, when you look at your work and wonder whether you will be able to finish it—at your suffering and wonder whether you can keep on suffering—never shall reckon with your own strength alone, but must include Jesus therein. He has gone into your suffering, has taken up your fight and your work for the purpose of suffering, fighting and working with you and becoming your Saviour.
Therefore, He says: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." That means: All you men and women who labor and are heavy laden.
But when I can grasp a little of this, then I enjoy Christmas—not because of the memory of vanished days, but because of the understanding of the fact that Christmas is meant just for me who have experienced how much there is to labor for, to fight against, and to be saved from, and how sorely I stand in need of a heavenly support of strength and love, in my daily work and in my daily struggles.
Therefore, I now say: Christmas is meant for all us grown-up men and women who take life seriously and who know what are its conditions. We cannot dispense with Christmas, at all. We offer God our praise and our gratitude for Christmas, and we do so with the joy of understanding.
6. The Faith of a Little Child
On the west front lay a 17-year-old boy a few days before Christmas, 1915. He had voluntarily enlisted under the flag of Great Britain, and was yearning to storm forward in the ranks of his comrades—forward to victory. And he had been in the front rank. Now he lay wounded and bleeding on the battlefield.
The battle was over; the stars shone, and he was thinking: Wonder, if I shall lie here and die!
Memories stormed upon him. His mother had said: "God be always with you, my lad!" and the old minister had said: "Remember there is always a window open upward!"
Upward—upward to God! Was it not as though the twinkling stars were smiling at him—calling him, as it were?
Yes, they summoned him upward.
O, how that wound pained him! Wonder if the ambulance isn't coming soon? He could hear the cries of the other wounded; perhaps that was when they were lifted up from the ground. Would no one find him? He could not stir, could not call—could only gaze at the distant stars.
Was there room for him up there? Yes, for he was sure death was approaching. "Mother," he whispered, "mother—O God—take my soul—now, just before Christmas—for the sake of Jesus Christ!"
The angels came, and they carried him to heaven. His prayer had been heard up there. His child's soul was carried upward to God.
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When the famous French preacher, Adolphe Monod, was asked what had been the cause of his greatest gratitude, he said: "I thank God that He hath given me the faith of a little child."
The main thing for him was not that God had given him a great task as a preacher and a theologian, but that He had given him the faith of a little child. That means: The faith that accepts the grace