If it Wasn't for the Night

Abiding in Hope

by

Iowa Annual Conference | Dec. 5, 2024

At various points in my ministry, I have had the chance to be a part of a number of Blue Christmas services. If you’re not familiar, a Blue Christmas Service is a service, held during Advent, which acknowledges that for some the joy of the Christmas season is muted by grief and loss—sometimes fresh and sometimes enduring. Often this service is held on or around December 21st, the longest night of the year, to emphasize both the depths of grief and the wide-reaching love of God. 

The message for the service is typically something like this: If you look at the holiday festivity and think to yourself, “Is everyone happy and cheery except me?” it’s okay. The story of Christmas is for you, too. If you read closely, much of the Christmas story happens in the shadows. The humble beginnings of Jesus, the ordinary origins of Mary and Joseph, and the threat of Herod overshadowing His birth. In many ways, the nativity story is one for those with less-than-perfect lives, full of cracks and creases. The Christmas story is for you, especially. 

As I think about the “blueness” of this season, which I have experienced in my own life at certain points, this gentle space of noticing the darkness has been an important one. A favorite folk artist of mine, David Wilcox, has some words that have always spoken to me in my grief, especially when it rears its head this time of year. It’s called “If It Wasn't for the Night.” I want to share the song lyrics below. Perhaps you’d like to pull it up on Spotify or YouTube[1] and listen along: 

If it wasn't for the night

So cold this time of year

The stars would never shine so bright

So beautiful and clear

I have walked this road alone

My thin coat against the chill

When the light in me was gone

And my winter house was stilled

When I grieved for all I’d made

Out of all I had to give

On the eve of Christmas day

With no reason left to live

Even then somehow in the bitter wind and cold

Impossibly strong I know

Even then a bloom as tender as a rose

Was breaking through the snow

In the dark night of the soul

In the dark night of the soul

If it wasn't for the babe

Lying helpless on the straw

There would be no Christmas day

And the night would just go on

When it seems that death has won

Buried deep beneath the snow

Where the summer leaves have gone

The seed of hope will grow

The name of Jesus is never said explicitly in the song, but it doesn’t take much to notice the divine underpinnings of the song. And I wonder if that might be a fitting metaphor for how we find Jesus in our grief. Sometimes He is waiting for us, just beneath the surface of our grief, to offer us love and grace. Not in the brightness of a multiple megawatt Christmas lights display or with the loudness of Christmas carols on full blast at the department store, but in the gentleness of the Spirit. With a voice that says it’s okay if the sights and the sounds of this season do not bring you the joy that others seem to have. Because the story of Jesus coming into our midst is one of unlikely growth—like a rose bloom coming up through the snow. 

Whether your Christmas journey is one full of abundance or one where the nights just seem to go on and on…take heart, you are not alone. And have faith that even now, in ways it might be hard to see, a seed of hope is growing. And maybe, by the wonder of God’s grace, it still may yet grow and bloom in this season.

[1] Link to the song on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFKC1LzvjX4

The Rev. Brian E. Williams serves as pastor of First United Methodist Church in Indianola, Iowa. "Abiding in Hope" is a spiritual support series written by volunteers in the Iowa Annual Conference of The United Methodist Church, Subscribe to Abiding in Hope