Glory to God in the Highest
By: Elizabeth G.
Tags: Christian, Short Story, Christmas

Part One

Photo by Mark Tegethoff on Unsplash

Grass rustled softly in the small breeze playing along the open field. Above his head, stars twinkled, more stars than could ever be counted. He felt he could lie there forever, nestled in his grassy hollow, looking up at the glittering expanse of heaven that shone in a much more dazzling array than all the jewels King Herod possessed.

Aaron shifted his position and glanced around at the other shepherds scattered across the field. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the brilliance of the stars to the dim figures hunched over their flocks. There was Benjamin, still cradling the crippled lamb he had been nursing all afternoon. There was Simon, and Isaac, and Malachi. All sat very still, as if they were asleep, but Aaron knew their keen eyes were ever scanning the field, keeping watch over their flocks all night long.

Just as he should be doing. Aaron scrambled upwards and sat crouched on his heels, turning his eyes to his own sheep. They were curled on the ground, their wooly backs ruffling a little in the breeze. Aaron gave a little sigh as he watched them. A night vigil guarding the sheep was always hard. But it was his turn by rights, and he would keep it faithfully.

The minutes crept by. Aaron turned his gaze back to the stars. They were so beautiful. Of all God’s creation, Aaron thought the stars were His greatest handiwork.

“The heavens declare the glory of God,” he whispered softly, “and the firmament showeth his handiwork.”

Suddenly, a bright light appeared, far up in the heavens, in the midst of the glistening lights. Aaron stared at it. Was it coming towards them? Murmurs from his fellow shepherds confirmed he wasn’t the only one seeing the light.

And then suddenly the sky was on fire. At least, that was Aaron’s first impression as a blaze of light dazzled his eyes. All vision went white for a terrifying moment, and then all Aaron could see was a brilliantly bright form suspended before him in the sky. It was nothing like Aaron had ever seen.

Frightened gasps and cries echoed over the field. Some shepherds scrambled to their feet, while others cowered down behind their sheep. Aaron sat frozen, staring at the blazing form in the sky. Surely the only thing that could exude such brightness was the glory of God Himself.

A voice suddenly cut through the cries of the shepherds and all went quiet. Only the voice of the bright form was heard. “Fear not,” Aaron heard him say. “For, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”

A jolt went down Aaron’s spine. A Saviour. The Saviour! The Messiah. The long awaited Redeemer.

The angel, for that it must surely be, was still speaking. “And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”

Suddenly, before Aaron could take a breath or try to understand all that the angel had said, more bright light flashed before him. A whole host of angels filled the sky. No stars could be seen anymore, and even if they had shown through, their light was nothing in comparison with the brightness of the glory of the Lord.

The angels were speaking. Aaron rose to his feet, a surge of joy tingling down to his fingers as the triumphant words of the angels rose in joyful proclamation.

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

All was light and joy and praise, and then the brightness began to recede as the angels departed from them, back into heaven. The sound faded, and quietness once more enveloped the field.

But it did not envelope Aaron. His whole body felt as if it was on fire. An excited murmur ran through the shepherds as they gathered together. Not one of them questioned what the angel had said. No one asked why their Messiah was in a manger and not a palace. Nothing but conviction filled their hearts. The Messiah had come at last.

Malachi waved his arms for the others to listen. “Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.”

No one made a single argument. It was as if they were all suddenly of one heart and mind. Leaving their staves, their belongings, their flocks, the shepherds turned their faces towards the ancient city of David. Beside Aaron as he walked, Benjamin still carried the injured lamb. Throughout their meager ranks came the whispered words, “Make haste.”

“Make haste.”

Make haste they did. Along the darkened road, through the streets of Bethlehem, up to a rocky cave next to an overcrowded inn. Into the cave, hushed and reverent, to worship the One they had waited their whole lives to see.

It was a holy night.

Too soon, far too soon, it seemed, the stars began to fade, and the shepherds began their journey back to the fields to gather their flocks. As he walked, Aaron felt none of the usual fatigue that came from staying awake the entire night. In its place, a joy throbbed within him. His steps were light and quick, his heart bursting to tell all he met of the Christ he had seen.

“Glory to God in the highest,” suddenly burst from his lips. It was the angels’ words. The praises still chimed in his ears, and again he spoke the words, this time matching them to a tune. Again and again until the whole company of shepherds was singing. The fields came into view, the flocks still sleeping where they had left them. The early morning began to glow with the rising of the sun, and as its light replaced the last glittering of the stars, Aaron’s spirit rose as well. A new day was dawning, but better than that, the Sun of Righteousness had risen with healing in His wings.

Aaron entered the field and felt again the grass under his feet. A smile warmed his face. “Glory to God in the highest,” he sang. “Glory to God in the highest.”

Part Two

Surely there was no better view in all of France than the one Pierre commanded now. From his perch on top of this rocky crag, he could see for miles down the valley in either direction. Or he would be able to, if it was daytime. By night, the whole length of the valley was plunged in deep gloom, shadow melding with shadow and creating a pattern one could only see once the eyes were accustomed to the dark.

He glanced up towards the wide expanse of heaven stretching out above him. The stars looked like they were dancing. He stared at them, his eyes a little blurry due to the swift transition from dark to light. From where he sat he could see a cluster of stars that might be….. well, any constellation, really. He’d never been skilled enough to identify anything past the Big Dipper.

Suddenly a streak of light sped across the sky and vanished. Pierre gaped up at it, triumph thrilling him. He had never before seen a shooting star. Back in Paris, hardly any stars were visible between the buildings of the cramped quarters he’d lived in, and in the five months since he’d moved to the country, he’d never yet made it out to the valley at night. How much he had missed.

A step on the gravel came from behind him, and Pierre turned to see the form of his friend Alexandre cresting the top of the rock. He smiled at Pierre but didn’t speak as he moved to sit down beside his friend. From down below in the grassy nook that lay behind the crag of rock, Pierre could hear the faint bleating of Alexandre’s sheep.

Pierre turned to Alexandre, who had settled himself down with his legs dangling off the rock into the open air. “Why did you ask me to come?” he said. “It is beautiful, of course, but wasn’t there something you wanted me to experience?”

Alexandre put a finger to his lips. “Speak quietly, please. Sound carries easily from up here.”

“Why do we need to be quiet?” Pierre whispered.

“Well, it’s kind of a tradition among us shepherds in this part of the valley. No loud noises until midnight.”

‘Why?”

Alexandre shifted his position. “It’s our Christmas Eve custom. All of the shepherds come to their various hillsides and lookouts.”

“Why do they come? Just to sit and listen to the stillness?”

“Not exactly.” Alexandre smiled. “Just wait.” He turned his face up to the heavens and gave a quiet sigh. “Look at the stars. Exquisite, aren’t they?”

“Indeed.” Pierre looked up again. “I saw a shooting star just before you came. It was a beautiful sight.”

Alexandre nodded. “I’ve always thought so.”

Pierre turned to look at the stars behind them. “You know, I’ve always thought shooting stars must be what it looks like for angels to fly. All that light coming out behind.”

“It’s funny you should mention angels,” Alexandre said.

“Why?” Pierre asked again.

Alexandre smiled. “Just wait.”

Pierre waited. It was growing colder, and though the dark sky was beautiful, he didn’t like the thought of staying out all night long. Then suddenly, ringing through the darkness, he heard singing.

“Gloria in excelsis Deo!”

Pierre jumped to his feet. “Did you hear that?”

Alexandre rose as well, but he didn’t answer Pierre. Instead he cupped his hands to his mouth and responded with the same words. The musical notes soured up and down through the air and blew away on the breeze. The tune was one Pierre recognized as a Latin chorale he’d heard sung in church. Now it flowed from Alexandre’s throat with a sound that Pierre could only label as angelic.

Over and over, from one part of the valley and then another, the same words danced in musical triumph. Each shepherd was singing, praising, glorifying God for the gift of His Son Jesus Christ given so long ago. Prickles raced up and down Pierre’s arms as he listened. It was as if he was in Bethlehem of old, listening to the heavenly host proclaim praises to God.

Finally, the last notes faded and stillness presided once more. Pierre and Alexandre rose as one and began herding the sheep along the hillside towards the village. Neither of them spoke. Each one did not wish to break the holy memory of the singing in the valley. As Pierre walked, only one thought broke through the chorus still replaying in his mind. He was no longer cold. Instead, a warm joy spread through him, and he began to smile. Gloria in excelsis Deo! Gloria in excelsis Deo!

When he reached the village, he left Alexandre with the sheep and wove his way through darkened streets to the house at which he was staying. Opening the door, he felt his way into the front room and lit a candle. Paper and ink already sat on the table, and he sat down, the pen moving quickly, eagerly, as words poured from his heart to his head and out onto the page.

The Angels in our countryside

Have sung the hymn of heaven,

And the echo of our mountains

Repeat this melodious song

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

He paused to read over the words, and then bent to work again. The next thing he knew, the sun was peeking through the shutters, his candle was a drooping mess, and his host Francois-Auguste Geveart was descending the stairs from his room.

“Pierre? Have you been up all night?”

Pierre rubbed his eyes. “Yes, monsieur, I believe so. I was out with a friend, and then I was writing…. Merry Christmas, monsieur!”

“Merci, Pierre.” Francois-Auguste came and sat in the chair beside him. “What were you writing?”

“A song.” Pierre hesitated. Francois-Auguste was a famous composer and musician. Possibly he would not deem Pierre’s scribblings as anything resembling a song. Still, Pierre had written it from his heart, and it glorified God, which had been his aim from the start.

He handed the sheet to his host. “Would you read it, Monsieur? If you like it, perhaps you can help me to refine it and set it to music?”

He remained quiet as Francois-Auguste read the song. Finally the older man looked up. “This is excellent, Pierre. Truly, it is. I would be honoured to help you finish it. Perhaps even we may look to publish it?”

“Really, monsieur?” Pierre jumped to his feet. “I would like that. Merci, monsieur!”

Francois-Auguste smiled. “Come along, young man. Let’s get to work on your song.”

Part Three

“Andrew, it’s done!”

Bishop Chadwick burst through the door into the office and dropped a sheet of music on the desk. Andrew picked it up and scanned it. “Angels We Have Heard on High. Oh, it’s the song you’ve been writing, sir?”

“Indeed!” Chadwick strode to the window and smiled broadly. “Finally! It took me two months, but I think that’s how it should be.” He turned and rifled through papers in the desk drawer. “It all started back in October when I began planning this year’s Christmas sermon. I came across a French carol published about ten years ago called The Angels in Our Countryside. It’s a song about the angels telling the shepherds of Christ’s birth. That made me go read the story in the book of Luke, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I felt inspired to write.”

“So is your song merely a translation of the French?” Andrew asked, clambering up to sit on top of the desk.

“No, though in some places I do follow the French text. Mostly it’s my own, but Andrew, it gives me a thrill when I read it. I feel as if I’m in Bethlehem among the shepherds, learning of the Messiah’s coming!” He paused and leaned on the desk, his brow slightly furrowed. “I don’t mean to brag, Andrew. I just feel…. I feel as if this hymn is just full of praise to God. Full of worship for the great gift of His Son.”

Andrew smiled. “I know what you mean, sir. Do you think we can get it published before Christmas?”

Chadwick glanced at the small calendar sitting beside the ink stand. “We have three days until Christmas Eve. We can try. Come on then, no time to sit around!” Chadwick turned and fairly flew out the door. Andrew hopped off the desk and followed, smiling, the song in his hand.

Three days later, Andrew wiped sweat from his brow and reached up to readjust the sheet music in front of him. Playing the organ always made him hot, and with the church as packed as it was, he would not have minded if someone were to open a window and let the frigid December air come through to relieve them all.

He kept playing. The words of the congregants combined with the organ notes and swelled up to the highest rafters of the church. He and Chadwick had gotten the song published just in time, and now the people filling the church sang their hearts out, clutching copies of the new song. The tune was old and familiar, and so each person was free to sing without hesitation.

Angels we have heard on high

Sweetly singing ‘o’er the plains

And the mountains in reply

Echo back their joyous strains

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

Andrew closed his eyes and listened, his fingers hitting the keys just as he’d practiced as last night.

Shepherds, why this jubilee?

Why your joyous strains prolong?

Say what may the tidings be?

Which inspire your heavenly song?

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

He could imagine the fear of the shepherds transforming into joy as they made haste to see the Messiah, finally come to earth.

Come to Bethlehem and see

Him whose birth the angels sing;

Come, adore on bended knee,

Christ the Lord, the newborn King.

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

His feet pumped the organ pedals up and down, and his mind flashed to the French carol. What had inspired that musician to write a song about angels? Had he, too, imagined coming to Bethlehem to see the humble Lord of all creation?

See Him in a manger laid,

Jesus, Lord of heaven and earth;

Mary, Joseph, lend your aid,

With us sing our Saviour’s birth.

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

The song ended with one last triumphant chorus and then there was a rustling as the congregants took their seats for the sermon. Andrew slipped from the organ bench onto the front pew and opened his Bible. Of course, the passage to read was Luke 2:8–20.

“ ‘And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night,’” Bishop Chadwick read aloud.

As he followed along in his Bible, a picture of the story formed in Andrew’s mind. It was dark. Quiet. Still. The stars were beautiful.

“ ‘And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’”

Andrew smiled. To think that all these years later, he was able to join the praise of the angels, to echo their words. To give glory to God in the highest.

The End