If I could insert myself into one of our Christmas hymns, I think I’d see myself as one of the shepherds on the hillside or the three kings of orient. Maybe I could pretend I was that mother mild. With a greater stretch of imagination, I could join the choir of herald angels.
But without even needing to imagine myself in the scene, I actually am mentioned in one of the carols. Not by name, of course (my name is not Gloria), but by affiliation. It’s in the third stanza of “Joy to the World,” the line that reads “far as the curse is found.”
That’s me. The curse reaches me.
The curse set off by sin enshrouds our world and touches every aspect of life as we know it. Merry as Christmas is, even holidays are beset by pain from the curse. What family circle has not been touched by divorce, cancer, or separation—pain of any sort is a direct or indirect result of the curse.
But it gets worse. The curse reaches deep in my own heart. And I’m not imagining here. Reality is, I’m not an angel—or even eligible to apply as an angelic candidate. Yes, the curse reaches me.
But that’s exactly why this line of “Joy to the World” is my favorite, because it reminds me that Jesus “comes to make His blessings flow far as the curse is found.” If the curse reaches me, so do the blessings!
I, of all people, have great reason to rejoice that the Lord is come!
“Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound” (Romans 5:20)!