Her voice carried through the house.  That soft, small voice, struggling to sing  on pitch and the hands playing a new and choppy song, stopped me in my tracks.

In the midst of a busy Christmas moment I discovered this girl preparing a gift for me, a special song to be sung for a mother’s heart.

Dad had asked– well, forced is a better word–her to learn a Christmas song on the piano.  She had argued and complained to me that Dad was asking too much.  I heard a great many things like:

“I can’t!”

“It’s too hard!”

But Dad can be just as stubborn as that 11-year old girl who takes after her mom in will.  A few times my mothering heart almost asked him to relent.  Sometimes I do that.  I get in the way of a father’s heart for his children.  I wish it weren’t the case.

And now as I heard the melody of that tiny song I realized what I might have missed.

This morning I said good-bye to my firstborn as he flies away to spend his first Christmas overseas in a country he seems destined for.  To a mother’s heart, it feels like light years away.  I complained again that it was just too far, it was just too much–surely God should always want us safe?

But his father’s heart reminded me that this is all part of the plan and safe is never the goal.  Life is for living and boys are made to become men and I should never get in the way of that.

“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright…” her innocent voice sings.

My heart flinches at the reality of the deafening silence of my Christmas nights as I feel the sting of another loss.  Another who has left without his father’s blessing, without regard for his mother’s heart, and it aches daily.  I wonder if we couldn’t do more, if we shouldn’t try harder; but his father’s heart gently reminds me that love must always let them choose–even if it breaks the heart.

“How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel?” (Hos. 11:8)

This was the lament of our Holy Father so long ago. We hear the agony of a Father’s heart for his children at the eternal distance between them.  The silence was deafening as those same children wandered unsafe in the dark.

But those silent nights led to a holy night as that Father offered up his firstborn in love; this King who would leave His throne. He joined us here in the dark in the most humble form and in the most humble way and the silence was broken with the laboring of a mother’s body and the cry of a mother’s heart as she gasped in pain in the darkness.

And another expectant father gently reassured her.

And as that King entered our dark, unsafe, and silent world, the Host of Heaven could not help but respond with worship at the reality of the presence of  our Emmanuel to earth.

For wherever and whenever God is present, there must be worship.

 “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests.” (Luke 2:14)

“Isn’t this just what His children need?” all of Heaven seemed to cry.

His glory.

His peace.

His favor, so finally and forever they can be at rest.

This gift of reconciliation in the form of an infant was the delight of Heaven.  It’s what His children were made for, though they so often forget and try desperately to worship so many other things.  They think that a life squandered outside of the Father’s blessings will bring peace, but Peace had already come and now waited for them here to worship.

The children didn’t understand the reason for this humble kind of entrance and this strange kind of plan.

“We can’t!”

“It’s too hard!”

They cried out as that infant grew into a Man and walked the crucified road asking them to follow.  It didn’t feel safe and it would break the Father’s heart but He reassures them it is all part of the plan–for Love must always let His children choose.

And may we take a moment to be thankful that a Father’s love can be just as stubborn as that of His children.

Though our Christmas nights may still feel silent this year, I pray we will always remember to see them as holy and meditate on the love of a Father’s gift so long ago but still offered up today.

An eternal love to bridge an eternal distance.

May we stop and listen to the melody of love in that small song and realize what we might have missed had the gift never been offered and a Father not followed through with His stubborn love.

And when we remember, our hearts will always respond with worship.

For wherever and whenever Emmanuel is present, there will be worship.