Category: Church and Christian Life

Sweet Little Jesus Boy – The Christmas Song Written As An Apology to Jesus

One of the sweetest Christmas songs I heard as a child was Sweet Little Jesus Boy. Like many, I assumed it was a spiritual first sung by the slaves of the American South. You can imagine my surprise when I learned that the song was written in 1934 by Robert MacGimsey, a white lawyer.  

MacGimsey was born in Pineville, Louisiana and grew up with black domestic help including “Aunt Becky,” his caregiver. When he was an infant and young child, Becky sang spirituals to young Robert. She and other workers in the MacGimsey home gave Robert a rich background in the gospel music of the south. 

Robert MacGimsey grew to adulthood and began practicing law, but he also wrote and published songs throughout his life. No matter where Robert traveled, he never forgot his Aunt Becky and the songs she sang to him as a child. In fact, Robert focused his life’s work on making African-American folk music of the South known and accessible by the world. 

Sweet Little Jesus Boy was written because of a personal experience. One Christmas Eve, MacGimsey was walking through the snowy streets of New York City. He was appalled by the number of people visiting various nightclubs who chose to celebrate Christmas by getting drunk instead of focusing on who Jesus was and why He came into the world. To Robert, Christmas was a time of worship and praise. So, he penned the lyrics to Sweet Little Jesus Boy as an apology to Jesus because, as goes the refrain, “We didn’t know who you was.”

Sweet Little Jesus Boy was written to reflect the lives of black Christians during the Civil War. Robert MacGimsey once stated that as he wrote the song, he “pictured an aging black man whose life had been full of injustice standing in the middle of a field giving his heart to Jesus in the stillness.” As you read through the lyrics below, you can almost picture this taking place. 

Sweet little Jesus Boy-they made you be born in a manger.

Sweet little Holy Child-Didn’t know who You was.

Didn’t know You’d come to save us, Lord; 

To take our sins away.

Our eyes was blind, we couldn’t see, 

We didn’t know who You was.

Long time time ago, You was born, born in a manger low,

Sweet little Jesus Boy, the world treat You mean, Lord,

Treat me mean, too, 

But that’s how things is down here-

We don’t know who You is.

You done told us how, we is a trying’!

Master, You done show’d us how, even when You was dyin’.

Just seem like we can’t do right,

Look how we treated You.

But, please, Sir, forgive us, Lord-

We didn’t know ‘twas You.


Listen to Sweet Little Jesus Boy sung by Mahalia Jackson on the Ed Sullivan Show on December 18, 1960.

*Image courtesy of Michael Payne

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I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day – The Carol Inspired by Grief and Loss

In July of 1861, Fannie Elizabeth Appleton, the wife of the famed poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, tragically died. She had been sealing envelopes with hot wax which sparked a flame which caught her dress on fire. Henry tried to extinguish the flames, first with a rug and then with his own body, but Fannie had already suffered severe burns. She died the next morning. Henry was also badly burned, so much that he was unable to attend his wife’s funeral. Because of his burns, he stopped shaving and grew a beard that became his trademark. Henry’s grief was so overwhelming that he believed he was going to end up in an asylum.

Two years later, in March of 1863, Henry’s 18 year old son Charles Appleton Longfellow secretly boarded a train in Cambridge, Massachusetts that was bound for Washington D.C. He enlisted in the Union Army and was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in the 1st Massachusetts Cavalry.

On December 1st of that same year, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was dining alone at his home when he received a telegram with the news that his son had been severely wounded four days earlier in the battle of the Mine Run Campaign. Charley, as he was called, had been shot through the left shoulder. He avoided paralysis by less than an inch. Henry and his younger son Ernest traveled to Washington D.C. where they learned that, although serious, Charley’s wounds were not as horrific as they had initially been told.

Three weeks later, on Christmas Day, 1863, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was overwhelmed by loss. He was a 57 year old widowed father of six children, the oldest of which had been nearly killed or paralyzed as he fought for a country that was at war with itself. To capture the way he felt, Henry wrote a poem he titled I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day. That day, he heard the Christmas bells ringing in Cambridge and he had listened as people sang “peace on earth.” However, the world he observed was filled with injustice and violence that mocked the truthfulness of the optimistic outlook. The theme continues throughout the poem, finally leading the listener to a settlement of confident hope that even in the midst of bleak despair, that God is alive and faithful and that His righteousness will prevail.

Click here to hear an interesting arrangement of I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day by Charlene Closshey.

Click here to watch the trailer for the new I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day movie set to open in December in theaters. Ironically, I knew nothing about the movie when I first posted this blogpost this morning. If you see it, let me know what you think.

*Photo courtesy of Maximillian Zahn

(Note: This is a repost from 12-25-21. Tomorrow, on 12-1-22, I’ll begin 25 days of new posts featuring the stories behind our most favorite sacred Christmas Carols.)

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Go Tell It On The Mountain: the Christmas Carol that Saved a University

American spiritual songs are difficult to date because most were passed down through the generations orally without publishing or recording. Such was the case with the Christmas song Go,Tell It On the Mountain. It became a Christmas classic because of the efforts of John Wesley Work.

John Wesley Work was born and raised in Nashville, Tennessee. He officially studied Latin and history at Fisk University, but his other great passion was music. In 1872, he was asked to lead the Fisk Jubilee Singers, a ten member touring vocal ensemble commissioned to save the University. In a bold move, the ensemble was sent on an eighteen month tour and was given the entire University treasury for travel expenses.

Go, Tell It On The Mountain and other spirituals were a regular part of the student singing at Fisk University, but were not part of the original repertoire of the ensemble. This is understandable because the songs were associated with slavery and represented recent history many of them wanted to forget. However, the school’s treasurer encouraged them to expose the world to the rich history of spirituals in this tour. The response was overwhelming and by the time they reached New York in December of that year, their concerts consisted primarily of choral arrangements of spirituals. 

Over the course of their 18 month tour, the Fisk Jubilee Singers grew to a full choral ensemble. Led by John Wesley Work, they performed a host of spirituals to both white and black audiences across the United States and Europe, including William Lloyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips, Ulysses S. Grant, William Gladstone, Mark Twain, Johann Strauss, and Queen Victoria. This phenomenal tour resulted in both the school and the musical style earning an international reputation. Fisk University was saved financially and Go, Tell It On the Mountain was on its way to becoming a Christmas staple.

Click here to hear Mahalia Jackson’s rendition of Go, Tell It On The Mountain. 
Click here to read more about the history of Fisk University.

(Note: This is a repost from the 2021 Christmas Season. New Christmas Carol Stories will begin being posted daily on December 1, 2022)

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Christmas Caroling: A Grassroots Tradition

There is, perhaps, no Christmas tradition more neighborly and friendly than caroling. No matter what the song, Christmas caroling spreads the true spirit of Christmas throughout December. As a child, teen, and even as an adult, I’ve sung carols like Buddy the Elf with groups in retirement centers, nursing homes, city neighborhoods, and even on country farms. However, for most of my life I had no idea how Christmas caroling actually began. 

Let’s start with the carols themselves.

The original carols had their roots in the pre-Christian Festival of Yule, when Europeans would sing and dance to honor the Winter Solstice. The word “carol” has its roots in the Latin word “choraules” which means “a dance to the flute.” The original carols were mostly fun secular, upbeat songs accompanied with dances often performed with a group. Overtime, carols became more associated with Christianity and became more hymnlike and therefore resulted in less dancing (Sorry, Mariah Carey).

Christmas carols themselves thrived as more of a grassroots tradition. Saint Francis of Assisi is said to have first incorporated upbeat carols into informal (and sometimes impromptu) Christmas services in creative ways. He built nativity scenes in caves complete with live animals. The villagers would gather and listen as he taught them about the birth of Jesus. Then, they all joined in singing early versions of Christmas carols. These energetic, joyful carols were often sung with gusto, as in Celebration, in sharp contrast to the traditional somber Christmas music of the day. It’s no wonder these simple songs spread quickly across the Christian world, especially Europe. 

Christmas caroling actually grew out of the Anglo-Saxon custom of wassailing, where the carolers received sustenance in exchange for their singing. This custom derives its name from the drink “wassail,” which was a hot spiced beverage. Over time, wassailing became associated with Christmas and carols. Ironically, the practice of caroling out of doors grew somewhat because of Oliver Cromwell, who banned Christmas celebrations in England from 1649 to 1660. As you can imagine, the persecution of the day most likely put a damper on the outright practice of singing carols in organized services. However, what’s to stop someone from singing Christmas Carols outdoors as they travel to and fro? Even after Cromwell’s time in power ended, caroling did not really experience growth until the 19th century, when joyful, more expressive hymns became more popular across England and Europe. During this time, some caroling groups gathered in public spaces to sing while others went from house to house. Today, the practice of Christmas caroling continues to bring joy to those singing and those hearing, with or without the wassail.

This Christmas season, from December 1st – 25th, I plan to highlight the history of 25 Christmas carols, most of which have been sung at one point or another by Christmas carolers. Some of them are currently extremely popular while others have been all but forgotten. Regardless, I’ve found them all fascinating and I plan to learn as much about them in the next month. I invite you to join me for the journey. 

Merry Christmas

*Image courtesy of Mario Mendez

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Christmas Carol Countdown

I love Christmas carols. Now that we’ve made it past Thanksgiving, it’s awesome that we’ll be hearing them more on the radio and tv, online, and in worship services. Last December, I posted the stories of our most beloved Christmas carols. While this year, I’ve posted more about my diet and physical fitness struggles, I plan to release posts sharing the stories of 25 more posts on December 1-25. I’ve posted links to those from last year below. If you have a favorite Christmas carol you’d like for me to research and share, post it in the comments or send me a private message. Merry Christmas!

Angels From the Realms of Glory

Angels We Have Heard On High

Away In A Manger

Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Go, Tell It On The Mountain

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Good King Wenceslas

Hark The Herald Angels Sing

I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day

I Wonder As I Wander

In The Bleak Midwinter

It Came Upon The Midnight Clear

Joy to the World

Mary, Did You Know

O Come, All Ye Faithful

O Come, O Come Emmanuel

O Holy Night

O Little Town of Bethlehem

Silent Night

The 12 Days of Christmas

The First Noel

The Little Drummer Boy

Welcome To Our World

What Child Is This?

*Image Courtesy of David Beale

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Thank You, McDonald’s

Thank you, McDonald’s.

This may seem trivial to some, but it means a lot to me.

I live in Metairie, Louisiana about a mile from Orleans Parish. Not far from my home is an elevated round-a-bout at the intersection of Airline Drive and Causeway Boulevard. When I exit the roundabout toward my home, I have a great view of downtown New Orleans and the various routes of arriving there. I also see a McDonald’s. I’ve visited this McDonald’s hundreds of times over the last two decades for breakfast items for volunteer teams, a quick lunch for me, or a late night ice cream cone.

For the last few years, the sign which was high in the air displayed the wind damage of multiple hurricanes. I’m kind of ashamed to admit this, but the damage to the sign really bothered me. I used to wonder why, but now I think that the broken sign reminded me (and thousands of others) of the devastation of the multiple hurricanes we have experienced over the past several years. I was thinking on this one day as my wife and I were driving to Florida. I noticed that it wasn’t just the McDonald’s sign near me that suffered from this damage, but fast food and business signs all over Southeastern Louisiana and the across the Gulf Coast.

A week or so ago, the McDonald’s sign was replaced. Now, the new sign shines brightly, even when the skies around it are dark and dismal. And, in multiple ways, it reminds me that restoration is still happening around our city and region.

So, thank you McDonald’s. Thanks for replacing your sign. Thanks for being a part of our community.

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The Day Before Black Friday

Sometimes I feel sorry for Thanksgiving. 

Some have called it the most neglected of the major holidays. Although it gets more attention than Ground Hog Day (sorry Bill Murray), it’s slowly getting squeezed out by the Christmas, the king of the hill as far as holidays are concerned. Even Black Friday, which has taken over Thanksgiving Friday and is making its moves on Thursday, gets more respect than it deserves. 

Thanksgiving does lack the pageantry and presents of Christmas. It’s meant to be simple, but so much has changed. It’s now become a day that’s more about overeating (gorging might be a better word), football watching (the original binge watching), dish washing (somebody has to do it), and Christmas shopping (sigh). 

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

We can choose for Thanksgiving to be more of what it was meant to be. (It’s actually more of what Christmas should be as well) – a day when family and friends cease from their labor, thank God for his blessings, and enjoy some of his blessings, all the while growing closer together and closer to him.  

Sorry, Thanksgiving, for the way I’ve treated you over the years. This year, help me remember to be truly thankful. 

*Image Courtesy of Priscilla Du Prees

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How the Church Shaped Halloween

Before I’m burned at the stake, let me explain. 

The roots of Halloween are found in the ancient Gaelic festival of Samhain (pronounced “SAHwin” – obviously phonics is somewhat different in Gaelic) The Samhain festival was celebrated on November 1, but actually started on the evening of October 31. It celebrated the harvest but also welcomed what was thought of as the dark half of the year. The ancient Irish and Scottish believed that the boundary between this earthly world and the afterlife became especially thin on Samhain, enabling communication with the dead. The ancient Gaelic population believed there were many gods and fairies. Samhain, in turn, involved many ritualistic ceremonies enhancing their connection to the spirit world, causing people to leave offerings on their doorsteps or in the fields for the spirits and fairies.

The Celts often celebrated Samhain by wearing animal fur costumes as a disguise against ghosts and spirits. Their celebrations included drunken feasts (yep, they were Irish) where they made lanterns by hollowing out gourds and placed candles within. The people were expected to join the Druid priests who built community bonfires where prayers were offered and cattle sacrifices were made. Each family was expected to bring part of the fire back to their home to relight their home hearth. 

The English name “Halloween” can be traced back to medieval Christianity. “Hallow” comes from the Old English word for holy. At the time, “All Saints’ Day” was called “All Hallows’ Day” and the day before, when an evening mass was held, was “All Hallows’ Eve”, which eventually transitioned to “Halloween” because after all, it was quite a mouthful. It is believed that the mass was initiated to give the evening perspective. Nothing takes your mind off of pagan revelry like taking communion and listening to a homily.

Christian leaders were also responsible for the official date of Halloween. In the 7th century, Pope Boniface IV began the tradition of All Saints Day when he dedicated the Pantheon in Rome to the Saints. However, the date was May 13. One hundred years later, Pope Gregory III changed the date of All Saints Day to November 1 when he dedicated a chapel in St. Peter’s Basilica to the Saints. This date, however, was apparently more of a local or regional change. Finally, in the 9th century, Pope Gregory IV added All Saints Day to the Christian calendar, extending the date to people everywhere. With All Saints Day solidified on November 1st, All Hallows’ Eve was destined for October 31st, which coincidentally fell on the anniversary of Samhain.

With the spread of Christianity, the mystical rituals of earlier Halloweens became more lighthearted. People dressed as the Saints and recited songs to one another. Children went from door to door asking for “soul cakes,” which were biscuit-like treats. Soul cakes actually originated as a part of All Souls’ Day, a third day of celebration on November 2, but overtime morphed into the Halloween night concept we know as trick-or-treating. The tradition of dressing as Saints shifted when young Scottish and Irish pranksters opted to dress up in scary costumes in order to frighten their neighbors. Soul cakes slowly transitioned into candy, much to the delight of children and the manufacturers of chocolate better choice. 

So there you have it, well, sort of.

Even though Halloween can be filled with light hearted fun; and even though its date, name, and practices were heavily influenced by the medieval church; Even though Halloween is a time where children can get tons of chocolate and candy that they’re still eating till way after Christmas much to the dismay of their parents and to the delight of dentists everywhere; even though we can fill the Halloween and Fall season with all of these interesting facts and fun information, it is good to remember that Halloween, or Samhain, is still a day and time festival of the dead celebrated by Druids, Wiccans, Satanists, and Pagans. Even as we take part in simple family friendly festivities, let’s all remember who we are and whose we are and make a difference for God and for good wherever we may be and in whatever we might do.

But you are not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for He called you out of the darkness into His wonderful light. (1 Peter 2:9)

Be safe out there. Be a light. Resist Evil. Make a Difference.

*Image Courtesy of David Menidrey

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My Father’s Day Confession

I have a confession to make. 

I watch people I don’t know. I watch them a lot. 

Dads especially catch my eye when they’re with their kids.

I watch them when they’re playing, working, laughing, and even when they’re frustrated.

I watch them and I wonder, “What must that be like?”

It used to make me angry (Ok sometimes it still does) when I read that “Children are a gift from the Lord. They are a reward from Him.” (Psalm 127:3 NLT) I mean, if those who have kids are truly experiencing an actual reward from the Lord, then I naturally assume that I must be a loser of the highest (or lowest) magnitude. 

I’ve absolutely hated Father’s Day because people walk up to me, smile, and practically shout, “Happy Father’s Day!” before they grimace and say “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot that you’re not a father.” 

One Father’s Day, I was on vacation visiting a church when I was singled out from the pulpit in front of the congregation: “You all know John doesn’t have what it takes to make a baby but let’s pretend that he is by giving him a cheap gift.” Ok, so maybe that wasn’t exactly what they said, but it’s how I felt at the time.

One year, the daughter of a friend approached me on Father’s Day and innocently said, “My daddy is David. Mr. Bob is Ashleigh’s daddy. Whose daddy are you?”

That floored me.

I didn’t know what to say so I slapped her. (Not really)

“They (Children) are a reward from Him.”

I didn’t get a reward. I didn’t place. I wasn’t even allowed to race. I’m not sure what the problem is but I must be doing something wrong.

However, I refuse to allow myself to believe that anymore. 

When I look at my life, I’ve been blessed more than anyone I know. I have a cute wife, a nice home, and a life where I make a difference in the lives of thousands of people, if not more.

And yet, I still watch dads and I wonder, “What must that be like?”

And after all this time, I think I know.

It’s a blessing. With all of the frustrations, from my viewpoint, fatherhood is a reward.

So, I just wanted to say “Congratulations dads!

You have received an amazing gift, a reward from our Heavenly Father.”

And to those of you who are willing to embrace your reward, I honor you this weekend.

You are truly blessed beyond my comprehension! So do your best and make us proud! 

Be men of God willing to raise a generation to love and serve the Lord wholeheartedly! 

I promise to pray for you and try to relate as best I can. Let me know if I can help, seriously. And when we are old and gray(er) and all the children are gone, give me a call, send me a text, or do whatever people are doing then, and we’ll go to lunch or coffee, my treat. 

I’ll tell you how God has blessed me and then…

I’ll sit quietly and listen and you can tell me stories of what it was like.

Happy Father’s Day

*Image courtesy of Shane Rounce

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One Minute of Silence

Some of my earliest memories involve cemeteries. I’m not talking about the country cemeteries where many of my relatives are buried. I’m also not talking about the above ground cemeteries of New Orleans surrounded by mausoleums and interstates. I’m talking about the cemeteries on various military bases with seemingly endless rows of whitewashed headstones marking the graves of men and women who had given their all in service to our country, to my country.

For many, Memorial Day weekend is the unofficial beginning of summer. It’s a time for picnics, day trips, Blockbuster movies, or furniture sales. However, it means so much more than that, and it all started in a cemetery. In Charleston, South Carolina, during the Civil War, a few black residents organized a burial of deceased Union prisoners, built a fence around the site, and established a cemetery in their honor. On May 1, 1865, they held an event at the site, complete with a parade, singing, scripture reading, and a picnic.

Over the next several years, groups gathered at cemeteries to honor and “decorate” the graves of both Union and Confederate soldiers who had given their lives in the Civil War. It’s been reported that General Ulysses S. Grant led an observance at Arlington National Cemetery on Many 30, 1873. Over 5,000 people attended to show respect as the orphaned children and widows of soldiers and sailors killed during the war placed flowers and small American flags on the graves of the honored deceased.

Originally known as “Decoration Day” because of the decorated graves and tombstones, Memorial is now celebrated on the last Monday of May. In 2000, the U.S. Congress and the President signed into law the National Moment of Remembrance Act. This encourages all Americans to pause at 3pm local time for one minute of silence. 

I’m going to do my best to observe that law this Memorial Day. And during that moment of silence, I’m going to remember the oceans of tombstones of my childhood and thank God for those who gave their lives for our country.

* Photo courtesy of Chad Stembridge

**Thanks, Dad, for serving in the U.S. Marines for 22 years.

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