Serving on the worship team at NorthStar is a true delight for me. I started playing the bass guitar when I was 15, and in spite of what Mike Lindeman says, I do actually know how to play it a little.

Serving alongside great musicians to play worship music is one of the best things I get to do on a Sunday, and this is doubly true during the holiday season. I love playing Christmas songs, and although I cannot sing very well, I love to sing them too.

When I was growing up, I developed an affinity for heavy metal music, and I still enjoy listening to “Christmas Sarajevo 12/24” by Trans-Siberian Orchestra, a song you probably know even if you do not recognize the unusual title. Yet only recently did I learn the origin of the song.

The end of the Cold War caused uncertainty and unrest across parts of Europe. The nation of Yugoslavia, after the death of its unifying leader, broke apart due to complicated and deeply rooted tensions among its regions. What followed was a crisis period involving a multitude of nations, including Bosnia and Herzegovina. A period of civil war ensued, and numerous tragedies occurred.

Among them was the siege of Sarajevo, which lasted nearly four years and cost over 13,000 lives, roughly 5,400 of which were civilians. One morning, in front of a bakery, a mortar attack killed 22 people who were standing in line to buy bread and injured more than 100 others. In the midst of the horror, many wondered what to do.

One local affected by the attack was a man named Vedran Smailović. He was the principal cellist of the Sarajevo Symphony. After the attack, he donned his formal tuxedo, grabbed his cello and a chair, and placed them directly in front of the bakery, at great risk of gunfire, and played Tomaso Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor in memory of each victim. He did this for 22 days straight to honor each person who was killed, often appearing at different times of day to avoid sniper fire.

Incredible photos and videos emerged from this tragedy, showing a man bringing his bow and cello into piles of rubble and bloodshed, attempting to shine a light in a moment of darkness. The humble “Cellist of Sarajevo,” as he became known, was eventually able to escape the war and now lives in Northern Ireland, where he still performs and composes music.

There is a beautiful parallel tucked away in his performance to the birth of Jesus. To us comes our Savior, shining light in the darkness, giving us hope when hope is lost, and reminding us of the beauty around us even when it is hard to see.

The next time you hear “Christmas in Sarajevo,” I hope you will remember how Vedran and his cello brought hope to a broken people. And this Christmas season, may we be reminded that the arrival of Jesus, our perfect gift, brings us eternal hope.