Standing Out

It was, I want to believe, a profound moment of joy in the season of the same.

I want to believe that.  But, I’m the guy who looks on events and thinks he sees the truth when what’s really happening in the secret places is entirely the opposite.  I look at the image in the mirror and see a mature sixty-something man who is comfortable in his skin, but all it takes is two seconds of looking into the depths of my heart and the nerdy, twitchy fifteen-year-old is staring at me again through the wild eyes of terror.

Still, it must have been a profound moment. It must have been.

We’ll see.  Others will judge.

Sunday morning.  This confident, mature man had played the instrumental prelude with the Lovely Lady and then taken his place on the stage to sing with the worship team.  It was the second run-through, having already gone through it all in the early service that morning.  There was no need to stay in the sanctuary for a sermon he’d already listened to, so out into the foyer he went after the last song of the set.

Oh, yes!  I had really enjoyed the group who sang during the offertory during the first service, so I headed back in for another quick listen.  Standing at the back entrance, as the ushers quietly made their way through the crowd, I was not disappointed the second time, either.

The modern setting of Longfellow’s I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day was very well done.  The singers and instrumentalists were practiced and competent.  Very nice.

There was a movement to my left and in front of me a few rows.  I glanced over, watching the young man rise to his feet.  Surrounded by folks sitting comfortably, he stood up straight and, moved by the music and the text, raised his hands and his face to the ceiling and he worshipped.

As the folks on stage sang of peace on earth, the teen-aged boy stood in the crowd all alone.  As the rest of the people present sat watching and listening, he participated.

What a brave young man.  I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t agree.  He was oblivious of the people around him; he wasn’t standing for them. Still, I never would have had the courage.  For all of my inability to fit in in other ways as a teenager, I never had what it took to stand up while they sat down.  I was the nerdy, twitchy fifteen-year-old staring at you through the wild eyes of terror, remember?

I always just melted into the crowd.  Always.

Perhaps, I’m making more of the event than I should.  And yet, I know I was moved.  Tears filled my eyes as the young man worshipped the Prince of Peace.

Peace on Earth.

Oh.  I forgot to include one detail.  It seems important to me, too.

I watched the boy standing alone, arms spread wide and wiped the tears.  Then, I noticed one more person in the crowd, a couple of rows behind the boy.  He is a friend of mine, the father of children of his own.  I’m sure it was just my imagination, but I may have seen his son tugging at his shirt tail in embarrassment as he too stood to his feet.

He didn’t raise his arms, nor did he look to the ceiling.  He just stood respectfully.  That was all.

Then, when the song was over, the two fellows simply sat down.

I haven’t asked my friend why he stood.  I may not ask him.  It’s probably none of my business. But then, that never stopped me before.

Sometimes, we stand simply to let someone know they’re not alone.  And, when one has had the courage to stand out, it’s no small thing to know someone has your back.

After all, Moses had Aaron.  Aaron even helped Moses hold his tired arms up on one occasion when time needed to stand still.

Elijah had Elisha to carry his coat. David had Jonathan to plead with Saul for him. Paul had Silas to sing with him in jail.

I think I could carry the harmony—if I could get up the courage to go to jail with someone.

In my mind’s eye, I see those two fellows standing in church the other morning and a thought comes to me:  It is a profound act of worship to support those who stand by themselves in faithfulness.

Paul, the apostle formerly known as Saul, said it this way: Love others—genuinely love them. Take delight in honoring each other. (Romans 12:10)

Sometimes, it’s important to be the one who stands with the guy who stands out in a crowd.

Sometimes, it's important to be the one who stands with the guy who stands out in a crowd. Click To Tweet

And sometimes, it’s just as important to be the one who sits with the guy who’s sitting down when the rest of the crowd is standing. 

That is so because we are called to stand with others who aren’t all that faithful, too.  We’re even called to walk on the road with those who take advantage of us and mistreat us, as well. (Matthew 5:38-48)

Enemies, we call them.  He called them, simply, neighbors. We will stand, and sit, and walk with them if we are to follow Him at all.

The One we call Prince of Peace was accused of being a friend of sinnersHe was both

Peace on earth comes when we love others enough to stand up with them.  Or sit down with them.

And the bells are ringing.

Peace on Earth.

 

 

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!
(from Christmas Bells ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ~ American Poet ~ 1807-1882)

 

 

Oh Jesus, friend of sinners
Open our eyes to the world at the end of our pointing fingers
Let our hearts be led by mercy
Help us reach with open hearts and open doors
Oh Jesus, friend of sinners, break our hearts for what breaks yours
(from Jesus, Friend of Sinners ~ Mark Hall/Matthew West ~ Jesus, Friend of Sinners lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Essential Music Publishing, Capitol Christian Music Group)
© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2018. All Rights Reserved.

Still Ringing In My Head

Bells!

I can’t get them out of my head.  Mr. Longfellow heard them.  I thought I was listening too.

Joy to all people.  All is well.

Lesson learned.  Can we move on now?
__________

My young friend blew in from the dreary, damp world recently.  I asked her cheerfully how her day was going.  The anguished look in her eyes was enough to let me know I had touched a sore spot with those few words.

“Oh.  Please don’t ask me to answer that question.”

She always smiles.  Not that day.  It was as if the door was slammed shut on her feelings.  I have learned to leave those doors alone.

I apologized and helped her find what she needed.  As she headed for the exit, briefly, a window opened up to her emotions and she mentioned how hard Christmas will be this year with her mom gone.  Tears glistened in her eyes as she turned to go out the door.  Mine too.

The bells hanging on the door knob jangled rudely as the door shut behind her.

Bells!  What is it with the bells?

Addison came with her mom the next day.  Her mom washes our windows once a month to make sure we can see out and customers can see in.  Five years ago, we became good friends, Addison and I.  She came every time her mom did and we visited.  A lot.  She brought me flowers.  I gave her candy.

But, little girls grow up and go to school.

“I’m too busy to come most times now.  You’ll just have to get used to seeing me once in a while.  Okay?”

That day, while her mom washed windows, Addison and I talked.  Well, Addison talked.  I listened.  After awhile, she asked her mom to unlock the car so she could get something to show me.

I wondered what it could be.  You already know what it was.

Yep.  A bell.

A single little brass bell to hang on her Christmas tree.  She shook it proudly.  Again and again.

And again.

I like Addison.  I was glad when she left with her bell.

I wonder.  Did I really learn the lesson of the bells?

What was I missing?

Ah well.  It would come to me.  Or not.

I sat in my easy chair the same evening and dozed off by the fire.  Warm and comfortable, nothing would bother me in my cozy den.

My sleep was filled with the sound of–yeah, you knew it was coming–bells.  While I slept, the antiques program the Lovely Lady was watching on the television had ended and a holiday concert by a bell choir began.

I slept as long as I could and finally brought myself to wakefulness, grumpy and almost angry.  Stupid bells!

Stupid bells!

I reached for the remote, but something stopped me.

The music was beautiful.

Bell choirs are amazing cooperative efforts in which no one takes a front seat and every single ringer is absolutely essential to the process.  From the tiniest of tinkly high notes, all the way down to the huge bass bell, nearly two feet across at the throat of the brass dome, each one plays its part.

At exactly the right time, the different bells sound, manipulated by different people, both male and female.  Entrances have to be perfect; cutoffs, precise.  No one carries the entire melody; no individual person is relegated to the rhythm part.  Every single bell counts.

I overcame my grumpiness and frustration to listen to the astounding music.  Beautiful songs.

Old familiar carols.

Bells.  Playing old familiar carols.  Who knew?

You’re humming the song aren’t you?  (I heard the bells on Christmas day, their old familiar carols play…)

I listened to the breathtaking music and my uneasiness grew again.  Something was wrong.  Unfinished business.  No, that wasn’t it.  You know how it is when you know you’re missing something, but you can’t quite put your finger on it?

And then I saw her.  Playing the bells. There!

No. Not on the television.  In my mind.

My Mom.  She loved the bells.  She wasn’t all that good at them; coming in on the wrong beat here; letting the tone ring in the air too long there.  No matter.  She loved playing with the bell choir.

I can see her now, sitting with the bells on the table in front of her, watching the music and the director like a hawk ready to attack, counting the beats.  She is desperately hoping that she comes in at the right place, but laughing at herself when she doesn’t.

Beautiful bells.

The tears come again as I write.  I listened to that bell choir and wiped the tears then too.

I miss my Mom.
__________

And still the bells ring–of peace on earth and good will to man. (Luke 2:14)

Their tones pure and clear, they ring out.  Oblivious to our moods, our battles, our disasters, they ring out.  Parents die or are lost to us.  Children grow up and away from us.  Still, the bells ring their message.

Peace on earth.  Good will to man.

Joy.

I thought I had learned the lesson.

Perhaps this is why Christmas comes around again every year.  Lessons are forgotten.  Situations change.  Old habits are taken up again.

We need to be reminded.

A Savior came to earth.  To save us.  To teach us.  To change our hearts.

Is there still sadness?  Death?  Poverty?  War?  The answer is still yes.

But the day is coming. . . (Isaiah 9:5-6)

I’ll wait.  And while I wait?

I’ll keep listening to the bells, Mr. Longfellow.

I’ll keep listening to the bells, Mr. Longfellow. Click To Tweet

 

 

 

 

He will swallow up death forever!  The Sovereign Lord will wipe away all tears.
(Isaiah 25:8a ~ NLT ~ Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007, 2013, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.)

 

The time draws near the birth of Christ;
The moon is hid; the night is still;
The Christmas bells from hill to hill
Answer each other in the mist.
(from The Eve of Christmas ~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson ~ English poet ~ 1809-1892)

 

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2015. All Rights Reserved.