O Holy Night

Fall on your knees
O hear the angel voices
O night divine
The night Christ was born.

It may not be in the top 10 worldwide, but no other Christmas carol affects me like O Holy Night. The first few bars of the intro and I’m on a hillside outside Bethlehem on the night the world was Reset, I mean really Reset, trying to comprehend what the angels meant. His birth was truly the beginning of all things made right; He is the thrill of hope.

Hat tip to the French for writing O Holy Night, but also for including some very wise guidance. At the top of the chorus is a bit of relationship advice when dealing with your Savior and the Creator of the Universe:

Fall on your knees.

We sing these words every Christmas without realizing how true they are. After all, how do we approach the King of the Universe but on our knees?. Better yet, maybe we should fall on our faces. A little extreme? In this golden age of selfies, we feel that we actually bring something to our relationship with God. Kneeling, actually or spiritually, is neither practical nor necessary because we can move the needle with God. ¿Yes?

Well, no.

God does not need us, has never needed us and will never need us. On the other hand, we utterly rely on Him for every single thing in our lives, the breath in our lungs, the thoughts racing through our minds, the clouds in the sky, the relationships we cherish and all the tiny proteins in each cell that work around the clock — in the dark — to keep us alive. Here is some hard truth: if He isn’t totally focused on us every second of every minute, we not only vaporize, but it’s as if we never existed.

At the same time, it is forever true that He loves us so much. He gave life to us and then gave His life for us, a profound fact that defies explanation. But still, He is God, and He alone. We certainly are not. We are not God and we are not becoming gods — no matter what they whisper in our ears or implant in our brains.

So, when I find myself getting a little too bold and casual with the true and living God, here is one way I try to correct my perspective: I think about ants. We’re disgusted when we find them in the kitchen, we go out of our way to step on them and we spritz their little homes with Termidor®. But the fact is, we have more in common with ants than with God.

No, no, you say, we’re made in the very image of God. We are, and that is priceless. But we, like ants, are finite. God, however, is infinite in every dimension, in every way. How do finite humans even begin to relate to infinity? We can’t.

Somehow in today’s fractured Christianity, we have lost reverence for the incomparable God; the God that put the twinkle in her eye and spectacular galaxies in the far reaches of the universe. That He gives us a second thought, or even a first thought, will forever be a mystery. But He does, miracle of miracles. So, as we obediently shop for gifts, let’s remember the greatest Gift of all.

And fall on our knees.