Joy to the
World, a Christmas Story
c2003, Susan Noyes Anderson
All Rights Reserved
Christmas was coming, but not a soul in the small
village on the Austrian border could feel it. Last December the children had
been singing in the streets; now, not 12 months later, German soldiers were marching in them. Joy was unthinkable
that year, and peace and good will seemed no more than shadows of Christmases
past. Elusive shadows...and sorely
missed.
The occupation lay dark and heavy over the village,
creating a blanket of fear and futility that threatened to destroy them. Even
at Christmas, there were few candles flickering in the windows. It was, in sad
truth, as if the light had deserted them completely––and not just in the homes
and the streets, but in their very hearts and countenances. A bleak and dreary
Christmas awaited them, for hope was as lost to these people as was their
freedom.
Stefan braced himself against the winter chill and,
setting his face into the wind, began the long walk home. He and his family
lived on the outskirts of the village, and his coat was even more threadbare
this year than in previous ones. Of course, it hadn’t mattered so much
before...then his heart and been merry and his spirit warm...but tonight he
felt the cold so intensely he couldn’t stop shivering. He couldn’t stop
thinking either...about how awful it was to have those soldiers inhabiting the
church...his church...or at least, he
was responsible for it. He was responsible for meeting the spiritual needs of
his congregation, and those needs were many. Yet he couldn’t even hold a decent
meeting or offer the comfort of a Christmas Eve service. Who would ever have
thought these villagers, a close-knit group of men, women, and children, would
be forbidden to assemble as a people? It was unimaginable, but then, so was
having to nod and smile at the German army. Some of them actually seemed to
believe they were welcome. Now, that
was unimaginable!
A sigh escaped Stefan’s lips and hung in the air, a
cloud of warm vapor that did little to thaw his frozen cheeks. Ah well, at least
he’d been able to get the medicine for Wilhelm. Hopefully the infection would
heal soon, God willing. Little ones were such a blessing at times like these.
Not that Will couldn’t feel his parents’ despair––and it did affect him––but
the innocent heart of a child sometimes forgot the threat that enveloped their
lives. And sometimes, a child could even help his parents forget. A small but
genuine smile played at the corners of Stefan’s mouth as he recalled Will’s
antics with the old cowbell his mother had hung, at his request, within reach
of his sickbed.
“Okay Will,” she had said. “Only ring it if you
really need me; I’m making strudel for the orphans, and we have far too many
this year.”
The memory of her words deepened the lines on
Stefan’s forehead, but the recollection of Will’s next action smoothed them
again.
“Ring. Ring.” His chubby hands pushed the bell to and
fro. Naturally, Mother came running.
“What is it, Will?” she asked worriedly.
“I need you,” he answered.
“But what do you need?” she queried.
“Just you,” he replied innocently. She couldn’t help
but laugh a little and squeeze his cheek.
“I love you, Will. And I’ll be here for you, whenever you need me.”
Stefan’s face lit from within. What a dear little son
he had. The boy had made an obvious effort not to ring the bell...or not very
often...and he’d been pretty successful. A few times, though, he had just
needed to ring that bell and know his mother was on the other end.
Stefan’s steps quickened as he rounded the corner and
headed up the narrow path to his home. A flash of inspiration had set his
thoughts racing. “Could it work?” he asked himself. “Would I be able to pull it
off...and if so, would it make a difference?”
“I’m home, Leisel!” he called, “and I have the
medicine...AND an idea.” After ministering to their son’s needs and tucking him
in, they went into the candlelit kitchen, put their heads together over the
table, and talked late into the night.
Morning dawned with an air of mystery, worry...and
more excitement than Stefan could remember feeling in a very long time. Leisel
seemed more in touch with the worry.
“It’s a grand gesture,” she said, “but is it worth
risking your life, for that’s what you’ll be doing. And how would we go on
without you?”
“I’ve prayed about it, Leisel. It’s the Lord’s will;
I know it. And He will watch over me.”
“I pray you are right,” she murmured. “When will I
see you again?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Stefan replied. “Christmas
morning. And a glorious Christmas it will be, too.”
“God go with you,” breathed Leisel.
“And so He will,” promised her husband. “We are
believers, and we need to remember that, even now.”
“Especially now,” she agreed.
Stefan spent the day visiting the sick and afflicted,
offering what cheer he could to every soul he encountered. But the shadow
remained. His people were in bondage, at least in their hearts, and the
soldiers who lived amongst them had stolen their hope. Robbed of freedom, the
citizens of this once proud Austrian village had lost themselves, their church…maybe
even their God. Questions festered within them. How could the God they thought
they knew have let this happen? Why would He allow the kind of human suffering
this evil regime had visited upon the innocent? With men like this in control
of their beloved country, what was left to believe in?
A day earlier, Stefan had felt the same, or nearly
so, but on this Christmas Eve a spark of hope rekindled his spirit. He had to
succeed. He would succeed.
Evening came, and Leisel sang carols to little
Wilhelm. Together, they lit a candle, decorated a small tree, and set out their
Christmas shoes. After Will was snuggled into bed with a hug and a prayer, his
mother made her way to the kitchen and fell to her knees.
“Protect my husband,” she pled. “Bring him back to
me.” The candle flickered in the window.
Hours later, when the village was fast asleep, Stefan
crawled out of his hiding place near the old church where he had conducted
services so many times before. Stealthily he made his way to the tower and
painstakingly climbed the creaky steps. When he reached the top, his trembling
fingers wrapped themselves around the strong, sturdy cord in the belfry.
Smoothly, Stefan swung into action.
“Ring. Ring.” The evening silence was broken by the
clear, beautiful, and almost forgotten sound of church bells.
“Ring. Ring.”
The sounds of hope filled the air...and courage...and
freedom.
“Ring. Ring. Ring.”
Again and again the old bell rang, and Stefan’s heart
thudded with joy...and fear. What would happen to him this night? How would the
German occupiers react to this blatant disobedience of their orders? And the
people...Would it make a difference? Would ringing the bells remind them that
God was there for them...would always be there for them?
All at once, Stefan looked down, his eyes drawn by a
break in the darkness. A flicker of light appeared, followed by another...and
another...and still others. It was his friends and neighbors, fellow Austrians
all, and they were walking, candles in hand, toward the church. He could hear
the soldiers below, voices harsh and complaining as they traded a sound sleep
for the sound of church bells...Christmas bells.
“What have I done?” Stefan worried. “The Germans are
angry, and they will vent that anger on the villagers.”
He closed his eyes, as if to reach out and protect
his flock with his very thoughts. “Don’t come,” he prayed silently. “I never
meant you to come. The bells were a symbol, not a signal. Stay home. Be safe.”
But, one by one, the villagers came forward. Some
were holding up their lights as if to touch the heavens (or mimic them); others
were carrying children, but all were coming to the church on Christmas Eve,
answering the bells, remembering in that moment that God was there for them and
letting Him know that they were there for Him as well. Step by step, those men
and women placed their physical safety second to their spiritual well-being,
reminding each other (and themselves) not only who they were but whom they had
always been...Believers. Austrian believers.
Stefan’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the
group assemble in front of the unwillingly mustered German army. Had he made a
mistake? He had only acted on the Lord’s promptings. Surely God would protect
and defend His people.
Just as the German commander called his troops to
attention, one of the children broke out in song. Stefan smiled ruefully. It
was true, just as he had thought. Sometimes the innocent heart of a child
forgets to be afraid.
Stille
Nacht. Heilige Nacht. Silent Night. Holy night.
Many voices joined in, and invisible chains were
broken in remembrance of a night like no other, a sacred night in ancient Bethlehem, when earth and
heaven met and peace was promised.
And peace prevailed…for that moment, at least. Slowly,
almost reverently, the soldiers turned and walked back into the silent church
that had become their barracks. Meanwhile, the villagers sang, and Stefan spoke,
and Christ was remembered.
Joy to the world. Peace on earth, good will toward
men. No matter how cruel the trial or how difficult the season, we can honor
Him…and ourselves. Every time we act in His name, for His sake, we are ringing
those Christmas bells that proclaim Christ’s life and death and all they mean
to us.
May the examples of young Will summoning his mother and
Stefan reaching out to his congregation always ring true in our hearts. May we
understand and embrace our need to gain strength and hope through ringing our
own bells of faith, belief, and service…reminding ourselves that He is, and
ever will be, on the other end.
~ The End ~
Longtime friends of Sue's News, Views 'n Muse know how much I love writing a Christmas Eve story for my family every year. I can't leak the 2013 tale prematurely, but it does give me great pleasure to share another story with you, one written many years ago. Joy to the World has become something of a family favorite, and I hope you will find something in it that is just for you.
for more E posts, click below
