All Was Bright on the Twelfth Row

“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright.”

The darkened sanctuary glowed with candlelight. All was indeed bright. But on the long row my large family occupied, all was not calm.

The distinct smell filled the vast room before the end of the third stanza. 

“Radiant beams from Thy holy face.”

I watched in paralyzing awe as radiant beams shimmered through my sister's long locks faster than a sparkler on the Fourth of July. 

Not every Christmas Eve service involves pyrotechnics, but that particular year, we celebrated the birth of Jesus with indoor fireworks. 

It all began with a little hot wax scalding the hand of my 6-year-old nephew, whose mother tried to console him a little too closely to his candle. And it ended with tears streaming down our faces as we choked on stifled laughter and the aroma of burnt hair.

It happened so fast. My sister’s quick mom-reflexes managed to extinguish the flames right before they reached her scalp—before anyone’s brains could even register the display of shock and awe our eyes were witnessing—leaving her with a lovely new layered ‘do and a story we continue to share year after year.

That one time when the familiar lyrics of a 200-year-old Christmas hymn came to light.

“Son of God, loves pure light

Radiant beams from Thy holy face

With the dawn of redeeming grace

Jesus Lord, at Thy birth

Jesus Lord, at Thy birth.”

Imagine the shock of the shepherds when a bright angel suddenly appeared in their night sky, proclaiming the good news. Imagine their awe when a multitude of angels started singing praise.

Imagine daylight in the dead of night.

“The dawn of redeeming grace.”

No matter what darkness we encounter, no matter what mayhem or destruction ensues, the pure light of God’s Son is greater. 

Talk about shock and awe. 

Talk about a story we should continue to tell year after year; sharing the Light of the World wherever we go.

Just maybe we pull our hair back first. 

*Photo from the year after the incident.

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