About fifteen adults and seven children gathered together on the main street of our town last night. For forty minutes we joined our voices and sang Christmas carols. Businesses were closed. A few restaurant customers may have heard us from their tables inside. A straggler or two passed by, offering no opinion, yea or nay. At first, I thought it strange, raising our voices to the cold and dark, but all who took part sang and laughed and joy claimed the night.
Angels looked on — a heavenly host, our audience listened in awe, just as that night in Bethlehem. Heaven heard the praises of shepherds as they followed the star to a lowly manger. Heaven saw their bowed knee before a baby, a king. A few animals looked on.
The organizer of our small group secured permission from our local police earlier in the month. Another town close by banned Christmas carolers, because some townspeople got offended.
We read with our eyes and hear with our ears the closing chapter of freedom for the believer in Christ. We recognize it well as we have a panoramic view from the media and international agencies heralding the fight between good and evil.
In my comfortability, it is easy to say “they”, rather than “me”.
