It Came Upon A Midnight Clear~ Peace for Women in Painful Marriages

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

“Therefore, the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, the virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and she will call His name Immanuel.” Isaiah 7:14 NASB2020

The evening after our first snowstorm this past week, I stepped outside to take a walk. It was freezing, the kind of cold that made me pause at the door and seriously question my decision. But I looked up, and the first stars were out, set in an inky black sky.

In that still quiet moment, an old Christmas hymn came to me, and I heard its melody playing in my mind.

It came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old…

I stood there for a moment, listening and thinking, there’s a message in that hymn for us - especially for women carrying hard stories, especially over Christmas.

A new thought came to me.

Midnight clear.

It sounds like a contradiction, doesn’t it? But the more I sat with it, the more it made sense.

Because midnight is where many of us live.

Midnight in uncertainty and emotional distance.

Midnight is full of questions that don’t yet have answers.

And it’s often here, not after things are resolved, not after the pain stops, but right in the middle of the darkness that clarity begins to rise. Not revealing all the answers at once. Small at first, like the first glimmer of starlight. Just enough to see the next step.

The hymn goes on:

Peace on the earth, goodwill to men, from heaven’s all-gracious King.

Peace.

It’s easy to read that and think, well, my world, and the world around me, doesn’t look very peaceful.

When your sense of who you are gets chipped away day after day, you need an anchor.

You need to know you’re not crazy and that you’re not alone.

That first Christmas wasn’t calm or orderly. It didn't look peaceful at all.

The angels sang into a world that was tense, divided, and worn down - and still, heaven spoke.

The hymn says:

The world in solemn stillness lay, to hear the angels sing.

I get that, not because the world was suddenly quiet, but because holiness broke through it.

A weary world, and holiness broke through.

There’s something deeper happening here. What’s being offered isn’t noise, it’s peace.

The stillness doesn’t last, but the song does.

And then it gets honest.

Above its sad and lowly plains, they bend on hovering wings, and ever o’er its babble sounds the blessed angels sing.

The world is weary, noisy and confused - and still, the song continues. It tells me the message of peace doesn’t depend on everything being okay first.

It comes anyway.

It’s offered anyway.

Then comes the part I’d never heard before, and it stopped me.

And ye, beneath life’s crushing load, whose forms are bending low,

who toil along the climbing way, with painful steps and slow…

That feels painfully real. Life’s crushing load. Painful steps. Long, slow progress.

This hymn names it, gently and honestly. And then it says:

Oh, rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing.

Not a healed world. Not a peaceful world. But a weary one interrupted by holiness.

You don’t need to make more effort here. You need more gentleness.

Just rest beside the weary road right where you are.

I keep coming back to that.

Because when the angels sang of peace, they weren’t promising a world suddenly free of pain. They were announcing a person. Peace came to us in the form of a child, the Christ child. God stepping into human darkness, not to erase every hardship overnight, but to dwell with us in it.

And if you’re wondering why that peace feels far off, it’s ok. Deep, ongoing hurt has a way of stealing peace away, especially when the place you’re meant to feel safest is the very place you’re being worn down.

The peace Jesus offers doesn't instantly change circumstances. It anchors you enough to see clearly, to tell the truth about what’s happening, and to take the next right step, even when the rest of the road is still unclear.

And that matters.

Because when you’re living in a weary world, or carrying a weary story, inner peace isn’t a denial of reality - it’s a lifeline. Something solid to lean on as you choose what healing, safety, and wisdom look like.

That’s the hope of Christmas.

Not that everything suddenly becomes easy, but that we are not left alone in the hard things.

Peace is still being offered, not as a quick fix, but as a presence. God’s gift to humanity in the person of Christ.

Maybe something in you already knows this, and that makes all the difference.

Clarity doesn’t always change the road, but the peace of Christ can change the way we walk it.

This was the peace promised long before that midnight eve.

“For a child will be born unto us, a Son will be given to us;

And the government will rest on His shoulders;

And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.

There will be no end to the increase of His government or of peace,

On the throne of David and over his kingdom,

To establish it and to uphold it with justice and righteousness

From then on and forevermore.” Isaiah 9:6-7( NASB 2020)

The peace of Christ be with you this Christmas.

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear was written in 1849 by Edmund Sears.

Still Her, The Journey Home