Missional-Contextual Christmas Caroling

I awoke in the middle of the night this past Thursday with a dark revelation about the bride of Christ. I found myself looking at the church's history spanning the 2000 years since our Savior's birth. At the time of his birth, people waited anxiously for the return of the Messiah, their deliverer. In Jesus' life, he must have looked forward to the day when he would be united with His bride. Yet, on Thursday morning it was so clear to me that His bride had become unfaithful. In fact, she had whored herself to every whim and fantasy of her sinful nature. Intimacy with the almighty had been replaced with obsession with materialism. Building programs, along with their indebtedness to worldly financial institutions and their propensity to divide God's people took precedence over going out in the world and bringing His unconditional love and mercy to those who needed it the most. His bride had grown more concerned with her vain, outward appearances than with working hand-in-hand with Him to break the chains of human injustice and suffering around the world. It was not a nice Christmas story. Worse, in so many ways it was representative of church-as-usual.

I couldn't shake it all day. I drove down the road crying like a child. When friends would call me, I would fall apart on them. Finally, my wife reminded me that we were going to go to the local children's hospital to sing Christmas carols with other mission team members and friends of Heart to Hand Ministry. As much as it countered my current thoughts, I knew that if there was a panacea to my depressed state, it would be found there.

Every room we stopped in front of to sing brought us at least as much blessing as it did the kids in those rooms. Everyone was singing with the fullness of the Christmas Spirit. There was so much joy and laughter that even the sickest and disheartened of children laughed along with us.

Then we stopped by a room where a 17 year old girl named Melissa lay who had been in a severe auto accident. Her prognosis wasn't good. She had been in and out of comas and her vital signs were not good. Her fearful and heartbroken parents were at her bedside. We asked if they would like a Christmas carol to which they replied, "No!" We respected that. I am sure that they were probably mad at God. Perhaps they didn't even believe in Him. But, it was obvious that they wanted no part of the Christmas cheer.

Not one to give up, Woody asked if there were any songs we could play for them aside from Christmas songs. The father asked if we knew anything from the 60's. Of course, Woody and I are old hippies from way back, so we were happy to oblige. We started out with an extended jam version of Crosby, Stills and Nash's "Wooden Ships." They loved it. It changed their entire countenance. We asked if they wanted another and the dad said, "Our daughter's name is Melissa. Do you know Sweet Melissa?" Tie-Dyed-in-the-wool Allman Brothers freaks that we are, we played Sweet Melissa. At the end, Melissa opened her eyes and raised her hand, to the shock and surprise of everyone!

As we began to walk to the next room, Melissa's dad and mom looked at us with tearful smiles as her dad said with the most enthusiasm of anyone I've heard this Christmas season, "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas to all of you!"

Needless to say the tears running down my cheeks at that point were not the same kind of tears that stained them earlier that day. It simply doesn't get any better than that. Who would have thought that old hippie songs would be the most anointed carols we would sing?