How Do You Follow a Song Like That?

Luke 2:8-14
December 24, 2025
William G. Carter

       In that region there were shepherds living in the fields,

keeping watch over their flock by night. 

Then an angel of the Lord stood before them,

and the glory of the Lord shone around them,

and they were terrified.

 

But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—

I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 

unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior,

who is the Messiah, the Lord. 

This will be a sign for you: you will find a child

wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger. 

 

And suddenly

there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host,

praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven,

and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” 

After singing “Angels We Have Heard on High”: How do you follow a song like that?

Of the Christmas carols sung in church, that one rocks the hardest. The stanzas unfold the Christmas story. They move from angels on high to shepherds below. They shift from Bethlehem in general to the manger in particular. Yes, the stanzas are excellent. But it’s the refrain that knocks the socks off.

There are third graders who have lost their minds as they warbled the recurring words. The melody is memorable. The rhythm is strong. The harmony is perfect. It is expertly constructed for drawing voices into a resounding choir. But how many of those third graders have any clue what they’re singing? Gloria (stretch it out) in excelsis Deo.

For many, it’s just a sound, a sequence of syllables, until they look it up on Google. Gloria in excelsis Deo. That’s Latin for “glory to God in the highest heaven.” Luke, chapter two, verse fourteen. It sounds bigger in Latin. It sings when it’s the refrain for that Christmas carol.

The words may come from Rome. The melody may come from France. But according to the Gospel of Luke, the song comes from heaven. The warriors of God’s heavenly court sing praise to the One who sits on the eternal throne. I can’t prove it, but I believe what they’re singing is the song we’ve just sung. Gloria in excelsis Deo. How do you follow a song like that?

There’s something about Christmas that prompts a big song. Big songs are hard to follow – especially when they are done well.

Maybe you sang along with Handel’s Messiah this week. Or the Philharmonic’s Christmas concert. Just three weeks ago, my friend Mark scored us tickets to hear an electrified bluegrass band. They played “The Twelve Days of Christmas” in twelve different time signatures and twelve different keys. Fingers were flying. Feet were dancing. It was beyond joyful.

There’s something about Christmas that explodes in excess. Melodies stick with us. Verses lift our hearts toward heaven. It’s all because a child has been born to us. A Son is given. Love has come. Grace is here. It began with the angel choir, breaking into song just outside of Bethlehem.

It caught those shepherds by surprise. They were minding their own business – that is, their business was minding their sheep. An angel burst into billion-watt light. It just happened. The angel Gabriel gave his announcement. He had already spoken to the old priest Zechariah. He had whispered to the young girl Mary. Then he hollers to the nameless shepherds:

Unto you a child is born. Yes, to you. To people like you.

Just to prove it, you will find him snoozing in an animal’s feed trough.

 That’s big news. Especially for the likes of them! The shepherds in those hills were widely considered scallywags. Inconsiderate, uncouth, unbounded, and unreligious. That’s precisely where God sends his angel. Not to chide them, not to demean them, not to exclude them, certainly not to punish them, but to say, “You count too. You are part of my family. Unto you ... all of you.”

As one scholar notes, it’s an enormous contrast to Emperor Augustus.[1] Augustus makes his decree from across the sea and says, “Go home, be counted, and pay me tax money. That’s how I will fund the soldiers I’ve sent to overrun your dirty little town. He has no regard for them. It’s mutual. 

By contrast, the God above every emperor says to the shepherds, You are already home. Home free! And my child will make his home with you.” My goodness – holy goodness! The scallywags have a Savior. That’s big news, much bigger than anything the Emperor could ever decree. This would be enough. The news would be enough.

Yet notice one thing more: that’s when the choir appears above them, shining like a thousand suns. The sanctified symphony explodes above their heads. Gloria in excelsis Deo. The song amplified the good, good news. It’s extra, excess, an unexpected gift.

Now, we expect music for Christmas. The holy day has prompted a thousand songs. Here’s my suggestion for getting through this darkest month of the year:

• 
  
• Pay attention to the songs that stick to your soul.
• Hold onto those melodies that won’t let go of you.
• Hum along, sing, sway, even dance.
• When the big music finds you, lose yourself and let go.

Music is God’s gift to express what can’t be said any other way. After all, what does it mean to sing Gloria in excelsis Deo? I don’t know, and I’ve been singing along since I was a third grader. If it means anything at all, it means there is a power of holiness greater than anything we can imagine. It’s enormous. It’s literally above our heads. It’s beyond our ability to manage it, shrink it, or avoid it. And it announces God’s favor. That’s the gift.

This is why the angel army bursts into song. They came to sing us into unearned grace. Glory to God in the highest heaven – and shalom down here. Peace, that is - deep, deep peace.

Why the peace? Because God favors you.

Why does God favor us? The Bible doesn’t say. I guess it’s just the way it is.

God favors us. All of us. All. It’s astonishing, really. Didn’t order that on the internet. Didn’t wait for it on the big brown truck. Can’t even force it to come because it’s already here. The favor of God is with you.

Or as the angel announced, The Holy One has found you. You count. You are part of the family. Gloria in excelsis Deo. That’s the good news.

How do we follow a song like that? We sing along. 

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

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[1] Joseph Fitzmyer, Luke I-IX: The Anchor Bible (New York: Doubleday) 396-397.