The Carol that Would Never Have Been

“And Abel, though long dead, by his example of faith, still speaks.” Heb 11:4

It had been a long day hanging Christmas decorations, shopping online and paying bills. My brain was fried after a full week.

There was a new movie out. I remembered the preview and mentioned it to my hubby as I checked off my last task.  We headed out. I didn’t have any big expectations, just excited to shift into neutral and let the big screen take me way.

I was in for a big surprise.

“I Heard the Bells”, a Christmas 2022 Feature Film (and now one of my favorites) tells the story of the famous carol written on Christmas Day 1863 by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow two years after the tragic death of his wife, Fanny, who was burned alive when her dress caught fire.

With the weight of the country torn by war and the confusion of his beloved wife taken from this life too soon, Henry, known as “America’s Poet”, hadn’t written since Fanny’s death.

Sometimes life gets too heavy to bear. Our legs get knocked out from under us. Yet, even in the worst of times, the glory God has planned for us to bring to this world continues determinedly burning.

When we feel we will never rise from the ashes, the gifts and callings he has planted in our hearts revive and bump from within. In God’s mercy when we want them to be quiet and leave us alone, they won’t. Somewhere, somehow God continues to throw fresh kindling on the smoking ashes. The sun rises again. Spring flowers bloom. New doors open.

Many times, when we can’t pull ourselves up, others slip their arms under our armpits and lift us to our feet. They come and they speak. A conversation. A phone call at the perfect time. Coffee with a friend where talking through our pain, a little thing they say reaches our ears.

And sometimes it’s not people physically with us anymore. But those who have already lived who strengthen us to carry on.

Henry, lost in grief and depression; on his best days was only able to crawl, not walk. Engulfed in pain, tangled with tormenting thoughts circling around and around, enchained with unanswerable questions. One day, pulling out his wife’s journal, her words of faith, hope, and love dripped living water onto his parched soul. She was with him once again.

Heading to the church, Henry told the pastor about the journal, feeling a spark of light and yet struggling under the weight of things he didn't understand.

Then, this line, whether exactly what the pastor said or the Hollywood scriptwriter’s marvelous crafting doesn’t really matter, captures this powerful truth.

“Fanny still speaks through this book.” the pastor said pointing to her journal. And then pointing to the Bible, “God still speaks through this one. And they are both still very much alive.”

When I think of all the books I have held to my chest, words of faith left for me by those who have already finished their race. Books I read a few pages of in the morning, scribbling a sentence across the top of my planner to give me strength for the day. Books before bed that nourish my spirit and soul like the food and water nourished my body. God’s word full of stories of faith strengthening me for my race.

By their example of faith, these lives, though long dead still speak and so will ours.

Each of our lives will be a world changing “carol”, left for the strength and joy of those who come after. When life knocks them down, the weights are too heavy or chains so tight they can’t break free. Our lives can do exactly what Fanny’s did for Henry.  (Heb 12:1)

After reading Fanny’s journal and speaking with the pastor, on Christmas morning 1863, Henry pulled out a piece of paper and penned the words of this magnificent carol, and continued writing for the rest of his life. 

“I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old, familiar carols play,

and wild and sweet

The words repeat

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along

The unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime,

A chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth

The cannon thundered in the South,

And with the sound

The carols drowned

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent

The hearth-stones of a continent,

And made forlorn

The households born

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;

"There is no peace on earth," I said;

"For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men."
 

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 What Carol Do You Want Your Life To Sing?