
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
I have always loved living in the UK. And one of my favourite things about living here is the contrast between the seasons. I love observing the world and how it changes through the seasons.
When I was younger I was a huge David Bellamy fan, imagine David Attenborough for kids! I would spend hours observing nature and recreating it into drawings for family and friends. I once did a whole project on leaves, trees and the dependency of birds on the fruit of the land and sent it to the BBC c/o David Bellamy. Looking back I had a fascination with winter, the stark contrast between the white snowy backdrop and the red berries offered to the birds every winter.
As I got older and became responsible for a family I would always look forward to the retrieving into the home during the winter months. I loved shutting out the demands of the world as I closed the curtains earlier and earlier in the day.
I also loved that there is less housework to do in the Winter, once the garden is bedded for the winter there is much less to do in presenting your home to a watching world. The dust in the house seems less obvious and you can get away with a quick hoover now and again.
This year I was reflecting on my winter memories of the past and considered how these attitudes had subtly changed over the years, and as always I was doing this while singing the carol ‘In the bleak midwinter’.
My husband doesn’t understand how you can think of multiple things all at the same time which somehow relate to one another at the end. I often ask him what he is thinking about as he sits in quiet contemplation and it is hard for me to consider the reality of ‘nothing just resting my brain’.
But in the complexity of my brain I get to consider big life things from the mundane every day tasks of life.
It was in the everyday task of singing this carol that I was given the opportunity to reflect on the juxtaposition of the words that seem to reflect two different worlds that don’t seem they should ever meet. But in reality it is the world that Jesus chose to be born into.
Christina Rossetti wrote this as a poem for a local paper and called it ‘A Christmas Carol’ it wasn’t until after her death that it was set to music and became the carol that has been sung across the world since.
What Christina has wonderfully imaginatively done is brought Jesus into the reality of the London life she sees around her. It is obvious to us that Jesus wasn’t born on a wintery snowy day but it is the London that Christina sees before her. But at her heart I am convinced that Christina wasn’t joining together the quintessential wintery Christmas card scene with the wonder of childbirth but the bleakness of the human condition that was so evident around her in the darkness of the London smog and the gloom of the everyday Victorian people trying to make ends meet.
I am convinced it is in this bleakness of the wintery scene that she brings the promise of the Lord Jesus, the hope seen through the eyes of all who met him on the day of his birth, the miracle where heaven and earth meet.
This eternal light that shines into the bleakness of life, the light that brings life where there was death. It is a carol that understands the promise of the Saviour, that understands humanity’s need of the only hope that will sustain us through the darkness of this broken world, a carol that dares to look up out of the gloom and trust in the promises only God can fulfil.
And as I reflected on all these things since, I came to realise that the lack of housework wasn’t the gift but the gift of winter was a time of rest in Him, a time to reflect on why he came, a time to draw others in rather than shut them out, a time to bring those out of the cold and into the warmth given by Christ himself.
You see the reality of the dark is that it may hide the grime but it is still there and needs dealing with in the Spring.
Jesus birth always points us to the hope of Spring, the reality that Jesus’ death at Easter is the fulfilment of the promise of Christmas.
And maybe at the beginning, I wanted to hide in the darkness because this was the place where I felt safest, unseen, wallowing in the despair of sin, afraid of the light that would expose the sin within.
But the glorious truth is we no longer need to live with the burden of the grime our sin creates, for Jesus doesn’t just rescue us from sin he also washes us clean.
So whether this Christmas time you are overwhelmed by the bleakness of the world or your own sin. Whether you just want to shut the world out or you want time to reflect take a leaf out of Christina’s book and let us come together to respond in the only way that brings true hope…..
‘What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a wise man, I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give him, give Him my heart.’ Amen.








