For 25 years, members of Crescent Hill Baptist Church have caroled along Frankfort Avenue, the Louisville street where the church is located.
The group that convenes for three or four nights each year can best be described as “The Choir that Shows Up.” In a twist, we sing a quick song or two in all the commercial establishments. The range is from white linen table cloth restaurants to the neighborhood fire station to the modest laundromat where single mothers with their children are washing and folding their clothes. In this way, we sing to hundreds of folks a night without being too intrusive.
Rowan Claypool
The choir includes everyone willing to walk and sing. We do not discriminate based on talent, although we have discovered over time that having some good singers in the group is a big asset.
This humble effort to reach out and spread Christmas cheer to our neighbors is something any one or any church could replicate. The rewards are great that I am happy to share a few of them.
In the Bleak Midwinter
It was pouring rain; however, because it was warm, I insisted we press on. The kids ran in the puddles and stayed as far as possible away from the adults under umbrellas. My son in particular was committed to getting thoroughly soaked. I made the group go on because I sensed something special would happen that night.
As we turned at Genny’s Diner to start the wet trek home, we made a stop in Rascal’s, a dark bar with low ceilings and a narrow passage past the bar to pool tables in the back. The only light was the profusion of beer signs and two TVs airing the day’s horse races from around the country. There was not a single patron in the place. So we sang to the bartender.
At first, he was a little taken aback, but then it began to sink in that this “joyful noise” was just for him. He cried huge tears as the women in the choir sang a few of his favorites. He wouldn’t let us go without coffee to warm our long walk home.
I never have seen him again, but I know God used “our best” to bless this man’s Christmas.
Away in a Manger
He’s always on the lookout for small children at each stop along the way. When he spots one, he will move up close, bend to one knee, and as if he were proposing sing lovingly just to that child. The kids beam in this special attention and respond with huge smiles. He gives them a carol sung just for them.
This man’s eye for engaging children has been forged over a lifetime work in the church nursery, for he is one who truly knows what it means to bring the children to Jesus.
Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus
She is dressed in all black with a thin black necktie. She gently folds her arms as she rests her hip against the bar. Usually, the restaurant staff is too busy making drinks and delivering food to tables to listen to our songs, but tonight business is slow.
In her steady stare, she pays us the highest compliment as she listens, maybe for the first time, to the message of this season. She takes a pause from the grind of her work to reflect on what this season means to her.
Crescent Hill Hymn
Our Crescent Hill Church hymn says “not our choice the wind’s direction, unforeseen the calm or gale. Thy great ocean swells before us and our ship seems small and frail.” Each year I am struck by the complexity in the lives of my fellow carolers. The world and all its challenges are very much with us as we walk down the avenue. It is ironic that even though we are in the choir we are the ones who need to hear the words of hope the most.
Fortunately, singing presents a fresh, less rational, hearing of the familiar Christmas message. And for me, caroling allows the season’s power of grace to penetrate the fog of my busy life.
Rowan Claypool is a longtime member of Crescent Hill Baptist Church in Louisville, Ky., where his late father, John Claypool, once was pastor. Rowan is an educational entrepreneur and leader in cross-cultural experiences.