Haste, haste, to bring him laud!

Every year, without fail, my sister and I goof off at the Christmas Eve service.  I am surprised our parents have allowed us to sit next to each other all these years, but I see they are beginning to get in on it as well.  If you can't beat 'em, join 'em I suppose.

One of our goof off traditions is to laugh while singing "Haste, haste, to bring him laud!" in the sober classic What Child Is This?  Several years ago, I decided to stop pretending the word was "lard" and actually looked up "laud" in the dictionary.  Basically, as everybody in the world except for me probably knew, laud = praise.  Ok, that makes sense, I told myself... but I'm still going to laugh!

Last night my family and I attended the 11:00 service after a fantastic three hour French dining experience.  We were more tired than usual, but still willing to be obnoxious in church.  Things began normally as we eagerly anticipated the chorus to this beautiful song.  We sang it one time through and had our giggles.  On the second round, I got punched in the stomach.  

"Haste, haste, to bring him laud!"

Translation:  "Hurry up and don't wait a single second more to get up and praise Him!"  The urgency expressed in this line finally set in after years of giggling through the command.  My smile seceded.  I wanted to do nothing but dance in the aisles, but the sudden revelation of the meaning of these words kept me stunned in my seat.  The fact that everyone was sitting down as they passed communion would have made my sudden spurt a bit inappropriate as well... but I am ashamed now that I passed up the opportunity to dance like David.  

I felt anxious and excited for the rest of the night.  No, it wasn't because Santa was coming.  I could not wait to get back home, close myself in my room, and praise uninhibitedly and void of distractions.  I realized that this is my calling - to praise, not only immediately, but also with joy, and I could not wait to get it started.  He deserves every ounce of our worship and every molecule of our hearts (Happy Birthday, Jesus!).

As I laid in bed last night, I laughed as I usually do on Christmas Eve.  This time it wasn't due to silliness.  Instead, my laughter exploded from the joy of being unconditionally loved by my Creator.  I fell asleep whispering sweet nothings to Jesus, (which really mean everything to him), wishing I could have stayed awake to bring him laud all night.