Knee-Bent Joy
By Anthony Casperson
12-21-24

O holy night! The stars are brightly shining;
It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope—the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!
Fall on your knees! O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!

How many of you thought I was going to use the lyrics from Joy to the World? Be honest.

But seriously, O Holy Night shows us a quieter joy than all of the jumping and smiling that we usually associate with the word. A more thoughtful perspective that doesn’t rush us along with a bubbly tempo. It’s a joy that leaves us not only with a loss for words, but also sends us to our knees in tears of thankfulness.

A long-awaited need that has finally been met.

The world—all of creation, really—long lay in sin and error pining. Groaning with anticipation until the day “creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Romans 8:21).

And when the weary world turned to the moment in history that our dear Savior first appeared, it rejoiced. The time had come. The Divine had graced this world while submitting himself to humanity’s flesh. He would live a perfect human life. He would die and be resurrected. And the Father would exalt him and bestow unto him the name that is above every name, “so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:10-11).

A holy night, indeed. And so, creation took in a deep breath and fell to its knees. Many among humanity have likewise fallen to our knees before our Savior. We’ve rejoiced because the weary longing for salvation has come. And for us, a new and glorious morn awaits.

But not every knee has bowed. Not every tongue has confessed.

Joy might’ve come to the world, but not all of the world fell to its knees before him. Creation still groans in anticipation. We who follow Jesus still experience the fallenness of our sinful bodies. We still await the fullness of that glorious new morn’s sunrise.

That night in Bethlehem was truly divine. And every time another of our brothers and sisters fall to their knees in joyful worship of our God, it leads to joyful praise in heaven and on earth. But the First Coming of our Lord and Savior that we celebrate in less than a week set the stage for another appearance.

His Second Coming, when all will bow their knees.

Many will fall on our knees, rejoicing that the long awaited morn has fully arrived. But others will be forced to their knees because their souls didn’t feel the worth of that divine night. For, “each of us will give an account of [ourselves] to God” on that day, as Romans 14:12 tells us.

The question isn’t if we will fall on our knees before Jesus, but whether or not there will be joy upon our lips at that moment.

All are welcome to celebrate the night of our dear Savior first came to earth in human form. But know that the holy night was not his last. Jesus lived a perfect life and died for our sins. The Father raised him for the work, causing the final blow against sin and death. And yonder breaks a new and glorious morn, when our Lord and Savior will return once again to the earth.

We will fall on our knees. All of us. And we will hear angel voices once again sing the praise of our God.

But the question is, “Will we join them—rejoicing his appearance—or not?”

Celebrate the birth with us. Gather as families. Give gifts. Feast. Enjoy the lights and bells. And set your eyes on that tree. But know that another tree had nailed to it the one born in that manger. But the grave couldn’t hold him. Because of that, he reigns in the hearts of all of his followers. And will one day return.

What will that day hold for you? Will that night be holy and divine? Will it be a glorious morn?

All of us will fall on our knees. But will joy be on the lips of our knee-bent selves?