I have been the Relief Society chorister in our ward for some time now. I admit, with humble regret, that when I first received the calling, I was not at all pleased. I felt frustrated, thinking that I had been chosen simply because the bishopric knew both my parents were musical. I couldn't think of a position I was less suited to than standing in front of a room of people, singing, and--as if that wouldn't bring down on me enough unwanted attention--waving my arm. But callings are not given by bishoprics, and being your chorister has become a wonderful, much needed blessing in my life.
As I spend time choosing hymns for each week's lesson, I find that they bring peace and comfort to my heart. When I lead the music on Sunday and sing--despite my lifelong assurance that I'm mostly tone-deaf--my heart soars with gratitude to be joined with all of you in praising and worshipping our Heavenly Father and our Savior. I used to try to get through each song without looking up, if I could, but now I love to look out at you and feel the love we share as sisters in Zion.
I'm acting very, very, very belatedly on an idea, or prompting, I received early on in my calling: I want to share some of the insight and emotional uplift I gain from the hymns each week by writing about them here. Because I have been given much, I too must give. If you read my own, inadequate thoughts, I hope the spirit of the sacred music of our church can touch and bless your life. I add my testimony to that given by the First Presidency in their preface to our hymn book that these songs can "move us to repentance and good works, build testimony and faith, comfort the weary, console the mourning, and inspire us to endure to the end."
"Joy to the World"
Anna requested this song to accompany her lesson. Joy. Joy! What a thing to contemplate. Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. Whenever I have thought of it (in all my tremendously long 24 years) it has been in my imagination like its own first shining star, leading me on through the night of the year to something miraculous. And although I've never experienced that perfectly blissful Christmas of my dreams, I never cease to expect it. Perhaps this is one part failure to learn, but I think it's at least 99 parts the message of the day: "And behold, an angel of the Lord hath declared it unto me, and he did bring glad tidings to my soul. And behold, I was sent unto you to declare it unto you also, that ye might have glad tidings." (Helaman 13:7). Each year the Christmas season and Christmas day itself may include disappointments, trials, and heartaches, but the tidings of the day are glad--the greatest gladness. Just as it was in Jerusalem two-thousand years ago, and here among the Nephites, Christmas is still today the promise of joy. It marks the birth of the Lord and King of our hearts. He did live, He did suffer for us, and He was resurrected. He will reign again, and when he does "no more will sin and sorrow grow, nor thorns infest the ground; He'll come and make the blessings flow far as the curse was found." We probably won't ever in this life experience the Christmas of our dreams, but it is the day that makes all our dreams possible. It is the source of all joy. And the morning of the resurrection will literally be the morning of a perfect and eternal Christmas. Our hearts will be full with rejoicing. Whenever I am beset by worldly troubles, I am going to try to remember this carol and sing in my heart with all my might--and maybe even out loud--the second verse. I hope you might all try it too and let us see if we don't feel ouselves united with heaven and nature, saints and angels, as we "repeat the sounding joy."
"With Wondering Awe"
I chose this song a little bit on a whim--a joyful whim. As I flipped through the Christmas hymns, trying to decide which of them expressed the most joy, I looked at my old favorites: "Angels We Have Heard on High" and "O Come All Ye Faithful." And although they made me smile, sometimes it is the surprise of something new that brings us joy. "With Wondering Awe" has never stood out to me before, but as I turned pages it caught my eye like a bright flower. "That's the one!" I thought impulsively. Then, reading through the lyrics, I found that the same spontaneous happiness it had given me was actually a theme of the song. Consider the first verse: "With wondering awe the wise men saw the star in heaven springing, And with delight, in peaceful night, they heard the angels singing. Hosanna, hosanna, hosanna to his name!" I love the image of the star springing, jumping joyfully into the night sky, and the wise men catching the sight. Then, by its light, with the echoes of the angels' song filling their hearts, they traveled to see "the wondrous little Stranger." This line was another that seemed filled with the joy of the new and spontaneous. We refer to Jesus Christ by so many names and titles--Savior, Redeemer, Lord, King, Friend, Brother--but Stranger? And yet, He was a stranger, as are all babies. And isn't that part of what makes them so special, so attractive to us--their miraculous appearance in this world from somewhere else, their newness and strangeness? And, of course, Christ was a stranger in another sense as well, in a sense that no amount of growing older and wiser and more familiar with the world could take from Him. His entire life, in its perfection, was as strange and miraculous as His birth.
