You remember that feeling, don’t you? The one gift allowed early. The slow unwrapping. The wondering what tomorrow will bring. Then Christmas morning bursts open -- families gathered, kids tumbling out of bed, presents everywhere. Santa must have been convinced they were very good indeed.
And that’s truly a lovely remembrance for me -- our children and grandchildren hearing the Christmas Story -- but this one included the animals speaking up about this holy night. Oh sweet memory!
But somewhere beneath the ribbons and bows, there’s another anticipation -- older, deeper, holier.
Oh holy night -- the stars are brightly shining.
Was it night when Jesus was born? Or day? Scripture doesn’t say. Historians debate. Some say springtime. Others point to winter. But here’s the beautiful truth -- it doesn’t really matter.
What matters is that He came -- for you and me!
God slipped into our world quietly. No countdown clock. No spotlight. Just a virgin mother, a weary father, angels holding their breath, and heaven leaning low. Shepherds astonished. Wise men would come later. And eternity changed in an instant.
That night -- whenever it was -- was holy not because of the hour, but because of the arrival.
Jesus Christ, born of a virgin.
Angels announcing good news.
A Savior wrapped in humility.
For some, it sounds like a lofty story. For those of us who believe -- really believe -- it’s the anchor of everything.
So this Christmas Eve, while one present is opened and the rest wait patiently under the tree, may our hearts do the same. May we pause. May we listen. May we let anticipation rise -- not just for what’s under the tree, but for Who came to be with us and live in us.
Because Christmas wasn’t born in the giving of gifts.
It was born in the giving of God Himself.
Oh holy night indeed!
#ohholynight #shepherds #christmaseve
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