silence

It takes some time for the dust of Christmas to settle.

When Christmas falls on a Saturday, there's a three-day burst of high-octane and extra-ordinary worship. Followed by a calm that, by contrast, is almost eerie.

People's energy levels dip to the point of oblivion. Excitement becomes exhaustion. The rapturous praise of the festive days is lost in the sound of silence.

I sometimes think these days which follow Christmas are akin to what we read of in the book of Revelation. "There was silence in heaven for about half an hour." [Rev.8.1]

The growing, three-fold crescendo of praise which has gone before, culminating in the glorious celebration of the Lamb at the centre shepherding his people and leading them to springs of living water; and the wonderful affirmation that God will wipe away every tear from their eyes - that growing crescendo of praise is suddenly lost in a hushed and holy silence.

Now, I appreciate that the relative calm and quiet that's descended on all of our lives since Christmas Day and Boxing Day were done is certainly a very different thing. But the 'silence' on this blog these last few days is more the thing I mean.

The whole extraordinary thing we celebrate at Christmas time is just too big to take in on the hoof. The reason why we celebrate with soaring songs of elevated praise is huge - so large and all-encompassing, we need some time and space to ponder and reflect upon it all. To allow the sheer mystery to soak through all the superficial garments of our praise and get beneath our skin. To allow our hearts to marvel once again at God's great, all-sufficient grace in Jesus Christ.

The 'wee lamb' there in the manger (as we sometimes describe a baby) has grown to be the very Lamb of God. The Lamb of God has now become (what wonderful pictures the Scriptures set out!) the Shepherd of the flock.

This Child, whose birth we celebrate so well, has grown to be the matchless Man, whose death on our behalf has dealt at last the death-blow to the things which grieve us most. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

Christmas without Easter would be terrifying.

The holy, pure and altogether righteous God, come down to be with us: well, that would be simply frightening ... if we don't have One to take on our behalf a mediatorial role.

It's Christmas as the start of something new which gives us cause to sing. God has come down not simply to be with us, but to do something for us.

What good is the birth of a little child so long ago, if that's all the whole thing amounts to - what good is that birth to a person who's struggling with illness and soon to die?

But if this is the coming of God himself, intent on effecting the greatest of all rescue acts, addressing the problem of sin, removing sin's guilt, breaking sin's power, and, finally, utterly banishing sin's very presence in a world made wholly new - well, that gives us all, whoever we are, whatever our personal circumstances, that gives us all good cause to rejoice.

We all need the silence to take it all in.

It's a huge thing God has done!