O Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining / It is the night, of our dear Savior’s birth

It was just another Christmas, 19 years ago, headed to midnight mass. I wasn’t serving God. I was serving myself, but it was Christmas, the one time if the year I would step foot in a church of any sort.

Long lay the world, in sin and error pining,

I was asleep at the wheel of life, thinking I was in complete control, when in reality, I had lost control a long time ago and was doing a good job of pretending to hold things together. Little did I know, on December 24, 1994, when I walked into St. Paul’s church, that I would walk out changed. 

Til He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

In that simple Midnight Mass, not unlike the 18 other Christmas Eve masses I had attended in my life (we missed one year), the congregation sang carols and the Priest delivered his liturgy. There was nothing different: no amazing special singer, no incredible message preached, just a simple, small, suburban church, overflowing with other people who I am sure only came as often as I did. But in a moment, my spirit was stirred. I did not know what was happening at the time. I had no knowledge of the Holy Spirit or His anointing. All I knew of church was that it was required on Christmas, and Easter if you were really a holy roller.

I went home that night different, I knew something had happened, but could not put my finger on it. The next week was a week of questions to my girlfriend at the time (my current wife). She was a Christian, she served God, her and her mother had prayed tirelessly for me for the past year or so. It was a tumultuous relationship because she was saved and I was not. I wanted to live my life my way, answering to no one—especially not some impersonal God that only existed on Christmas and Easter.

The conversation continued through the week up until New Year’s Eve. My girlfriend (wife) wasn’t into the party scene, so we stayed home, sat on the couch and watched Dick Clark. As we discussed God and what had transpired, I had made the New Year’s Resolution to attend church more. I was going to go back to St. Paul’s on that Sunday and begin attending on a regular basis. As the conversation continued and my girlfriend (wife) explained to me about the love of Christ, I wanted that relationship, so that night, on new year’s eve 1994, I gave my heart to God.

A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

For the past 19 years I have always thought that New Year’s Eve was the day I was born again. This year, however, it dawned on me, that it was merely the day I stopped running away from God. He clearly called me on Christmas Eve in that midnight mass. The gift of Jesus at Christmas, truly is the greatest gift I could have ever received.

Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!