In the Christmas season, you will hear me mention Behold the Lamb of God probably every other sentence. This incredible show has really defined Christmastime for me ever since I was first introduced to it several years ago by my boss friend John. You really must listen to it, which you can do here, in its entirety, for free! The song “Labor of Love” isn’t really my favorite song from the album, but it does contain a verse that has been more moving to me than almost any other. I cannot hear this part of the song without immediately tearing up, and it’s because of its reference to the miracle of the Incarnation that it affects me so. The song, sung each year by Jill Phillips, talks about Mary and Joseph as Mary is preparing to give birth to Jesus. It points to the hardships they faced and the miracle of what was accomplished through their plight. Here is the part that gets me every.single.time.
Noble Joseph by her side,
calloused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
on the streets of David’s town
in the middle of the night
So he held her and he prayed,
shafts of moonlight on his face
but the baby in her womb
He was the Maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith that could make the mountains move
I won’t go on and on about this, since I have done that in other posts, but I will say that the picture painted here of the miracle and mystery of the Incarnation just about knocks the breath out of me every time that I hear it. It is astonishing to imagine a tiny baby, not even yet born, being the maker of the moon - the author of my faith. Thanks to Andrew Peterson once again for penning these poignant and moving lyrics. Merry Christmas!
Labor of Love
It was not a silent night
There was blood on the ground
You could hear a woman cry
in the alleyway that night
on the streets of David’s town
and the stable was not clean
and the cobblestones were cold
and little Mary, full of grace,
with the tears upon her face,
had no mother’s hand to hold
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
every beat of her beautiful heart
was a labor of love
Noble Joseph by her side
calloused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
on the streets of David’s town
in the middle of the night
So he held her and he prayed
shafts of moonlight on his face
But the baby in her womb
He was the Maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith that could make the mountains move
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
every beat of her beautiful heart
was a labor of love
For little Mary, full of grace,
with the tears upon her face
it was a labor of love
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