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by P. E. Adotey AddoIt was the night before Christmas and I was very sad. Civil war had broken out in April. My village was destroyed and my family had been scattered. I was sure that Christmas would not come.
In my village in Ghana, Christmas had always been a joyous religious festival. The church started preparing way back in November. Christmas was the time when relatives and friends visited each other so there was always the excitement of people traveling and visiting from all the different tribes. The children and young people loved to decorate their homes and schools with colorful crepe paper. After the service on Christmas Eve there was always a procession through the streets. Local musicians played and everyone was in a gala mood. On Christmas Day we would all go back to church to read the scriptures and sing carols and remember the meaning of the blessed birth of the baby Jesus. After the Christmas service young people received gifts of special chocolate, cookies, and crackers. I thought that these things were Christmas.
Oh how I wished that those memories were real on this night.
The so-called Army of Liberation attacked our village in April and took all the young boys and girls away. Families were separated and some were murdered. We were forced to work and march for many miles without food. The soldiers burned everything in our village and during our forced march we lost all sense of time and place. Miraculously a group of us were able to get away from the soldiers one rainy night. After several weeks in the tropical forest we made our way back to our burned out village. We were sick, exhausted, and depressed. Our families were no where to be found. We had no idea what time or even what day it was until my grandmother noticed something.
In the middle of the marketplace the red and yellow flower we call "Fire on the Mountain," was blooming. This tree had stood for generations and somehow it survived the fire that had engulfed the marketplace. What a miracle! Grandmother told us that it must be almost Christmas because the flower was blooming and as far back as she could remember this only occurred at Christmas time.
My spirits were lifted, but not for long. How could Christmas come without my parents and my village? How could we celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace, when since April we had known only war and suffering? As I continued to think about past Christmases and the present suffering, we heard the horn of several cars approaching.
At first we thought they were cars full of men with machine guns so we hid in the forest. To our surprise they did not have guns. They were just ordinary travelers. The bridge over the river near our village had been destroyed as the soldiers left our village. Since it was almost dusk and there were rumors that there were land mines on the roads, the travelers did not want to take any chances. Their detour had led them straight into our village.
When they saw us they were shocked and horrified at the suffering and devastation all around us. Many of the travelers began to cry. They confirmed that it really was Christmas Eve. All of them were on their way to their villages to celebrate Christmas with family and friends. Now circumstances had brought them to our village at this time on this night before Christmas. They shared what little food they had with us. They even helped us to build a fire in the center of the marketplace to keep us warm. In the middle of all this, my sister became ill and could not stand up. I knew she was expecting a baby, how could it be coming now?
I was afraid for my sister because we did not have any medical supplies and we were not near a hospital. Some of the travelers and the villagers removed their shirts and clothes to make a bed for my sister to lie on close to the fire. On that fateful night my sister gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. This called for a celebration. War or no war, Africans have to dance when a child is born and so we celebrated until the rooster crowed. We sang Christmas songs with everyone singing in his or her own language. For the first time all the pain and agony of the past few months escaped. When morning finally came my sister was asked, "What are you going to name the baby"? For the first time since our village was burned, my sister spoke. She said, "His name is Gye Nyame, which means ‘except God I fear none.' "
And so we celebrated Christmas that night. Christmas really did come to our village. It did not come in the cars or with the travelers, it came in the birth of my nephew in the midst of our suffering. We saw hope in what this little child could do. This birth showed us the universal story of bad things turned into hope, the hope we found in the Baby Jesus. A miracle occurred that night before Christmas and all of a sudden I was reminded that we were not alone. Now I knew there was hope. Christmas comes in spite of all circumstances. Christmas came even to our village that night.
If you are a believer in Jesus Christ, God has given you His Holy Spirit to help you live life according to His perfect plan. Why not pray this simple prayer and by faith invite Him to fill you with His Spirit:
"Dear Father, I need you. I acknowledge that I have sinned against you by directing my own life. I thank You that You have forgiven my sins through Christ's death on the cross for me. I now invite Christ to again take His place on the throne of my life. Fill me with the Holy Spirit as You commanded me to be filled, and as You promised in Your Word that You would do if I asked in faith. I pray this in the name of Jesus. As an expression of my faith, I thank You for directing my life and for filling me with the Holy Spirit. Amen."
If you prayed this prayer, we encourage you to let us know.
For more information request the free booklet 'How to Walk With the Spirit" .
~ Rev Addo is a Biologist and a retired pastor of the Western North Carolina Conference Of the United Methodist Church. He taught Religion for many years at Bennett College ,Greensboro NC. His latest book, a collection of Poetry titled Talking Drums is available online.
