When my children were babies, I loved singing lullabys to
them as I rocked them to sleep. They were mostly songs I learned from my mother
and grandmother before me—“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Mommy’s gonna
buy you a mockingbird” and “Go to sleepy little baby ʼfore the Boogie Man gets
you” were two of our favorites. Another favorite was one in the hymnal used in
most of the churches where I grew up:
Can you count the stars of evening
That are shining in the sky?
Can you count the clouds that daily
Over all the world go by?
God the Lord, who doth not slumber,
Keepeth all the boundless number;
But He careth more for thee,
But He careth more for thee.
That are shining in the sky?
Can you count the clouds that daily
Over all the world go by?
God the Lord, who doth not slumber,
Keepeth all the boundless number;
But He careth more for thee,
But He careth more for thee.
It was a sweet song expressing the faith that God would
individually care for each little child. Holding my sleeping infant and softly
singing these words was both a parent’s prayer, but also an expression of
comfort and security.
Our second child was born in August of 1984—the year a
terrible famine struck Ethiopia. That fall the news was full of stories about
the hundreds of thousands of people dying of starvation. I sat down to our
annual Thanksgiving Feast of turkey and dressing haunted by images of starving
children with emaciated faces and bloated bellies. I tried to forget the images
while I ate and avoid feelings of guilt for my gluttony while others were
starving, but that just made me feel more guilty for trying to forget.
Then one night I began to sing that lullaby to Zack as I
rocked him to sleep. I came to the third verse and the words choked in my
throat—I just couldn’t get them out:
Can you count the many children
In their little beds at night,
Who without a thought of sorrow
Rise again at morning light?
God the Lord, who dwells in heaven,
Loving care to each has given;
He has not forgotten thee,
He has not forgotten thee.
In their little beds at night,
Who without a thought of sorrow
Rise again at morning light?
God the Lord, who dwells in heaven,
Loving care to each has given;
He has not forgotten thee,
He has not forgotten thee.
I have never sung the song again. I can’t. I don’t believe it
any more. It was a song of a faith that only made sense in a life of privilege
and plenty. The words were not true for starving children in Ethiopia.
A few days after Thanksgiving a group of British and Irish pop
and rock stars recorded a new song to raise money for famine relief. The song was written by Bob Geldoff (of
Boomtown Rats) and Midge Ure (of Ultravox). Some of the biggest names of the
day participated—Sting, Phil Collins, George Michael, Duran Duran, Bananarama,
and more. “Do they Know It’s Christmas?” became a huge hit in both England and
America.
I first heard it riding in the car in Chicago in the middle
of the bustle of the Christmas season. The lyrics were piercing, disturbing,
and inspiring.
But say a prayer, Pray for the
other ones
At Christmas time it's hard, but when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window
And it's a world of dread and fear
Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears
And the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom
Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you
At Christmas time it's hard, but when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window
And it's a world of dread and fear
Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears
And the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom
Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you
Do they know it's Christmastime at
all?
Feed the world
Feed the world
Feed the world
Feed the world
I lost a song that season. But I learned a better one.
