The Joy of Ordinary Discipleship - Matthew 4: 12-25

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

With the dust of the wilderness practically still clinging to his clothes after defeating satan in the wilderness, Jesus enters Galilee, going into the region of Nazareth and Capernaum. The words of Isaiah spoken centuries earlier, which were read in this morning’s Old Testament lesson, are coming to life as Jesus Christ, the Light of the world, begins to shine in the darkness. His ministry begins and the first thing Jesus does is he begins to preach. A continuation of what began with John the Baptizer, Jesus preaches, “Repent for the kingdom of heaven is at hand,” (v. 17). Jesus picks up where the Baptizer left off, both in content and in his audience, the people of Israel. “On them, a light has dawned,” (v. 16).

We usually think of repentance as confession of sins, acknowledging our guilt over and against the Law of God, turning form one’s life of sinfulness to faithfulness. That’s how we usually use it; it’s what you hear from this pulpit, God’s Word for his people, calling the faithful to turn from our sins and trust the Good News of Jesus for our forgiveness and salvation. This is good and proper understanding. But Jesus’ preaching of repentance is deeper. He doesn’t mean merely confessing and turning from sins, but a call for conversion, a complete change of heart, from lostness and unbelief, returning to the promises of God, spoken through the prophets – which included John – which are all about to be fulfilled in Christ for the salvation of the world. It’s as if Jesus is saying, “Stop doubting, stop being lost, stop wandering, stop being separated from the promises of God for you! You are his people! Stop doubting and trust in what is happening among you!” And, then Jesus declares, “the kingdom of heaven is at hand,” (v. 17).

I suspect when we hear the word “kingdom,” we think of it as a noun: the Kingdom of England, for example, or the fictional Kingdom of Narnia. Instead of thinking of kingdom as a place, a “locatedness,” if you will, with an address and zip code, think of it as a verb: “reigning,” as in, “the reigning of God is at hand.” God is reigning, God is acting, God is doing, God is breaking into history in the person and work of Jesus, His Son, our Savior. The reigning of God is at hand. Jesus ministry is beginning; his preaching is beginning; his miraculous evidentiary work is beginning; the restoration of creation is beginning. The kingdom, the work of God in and through Jesus, is beginning to be seen. Jesus is beginning to reveal himself as the perfect fulfillment of God’s plan of salvation. John preached that it was coming, and now the kingdom is here, in Jesus. Jesus’ preaching declares it: the kingdom, the reigning of God, is no longer coming – it is now here. A past-tense promise of the prophets leads to a present-tense beginning of fulfillment in Jesus.

With Jesus beginning his preaching and teaching ministry, he also begins to assemble those who will be part of the reigning work that must happen. While walking by the Sea of Galilee, Matthew notes that Jesus saw Simon Peter and his brother, Andrew. The call to discipleship was simple and it was direct: “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of me.” Likely, Jesus used similar words in calling James and John as well: “follow me.”

All four men respond immediately, leaving their nets behind. In James and John’s case, they also left their father behind. All four follow Jesus. Don’t overthink this. Don’t become so concerned with the “how” and “why” the four followed. It’s OK to be curious – “How could they have left everything behind?” “Why did they just pick up, leave everything, and start following?” – but don’t get entangled in the questions. Instead, understand that Jesus’ calling is as powerful as his preaching. His calling, his words, provide the faith the men need to respond. No person becomes a follower of Jesus by him- or herself, and this was true of Peter and company. Rather, see this as the power of Jesus’ words in the hearts and lives of those who hear his preaching of repentance and his call to follow. Jesus called and invited; they followed. Even if it is with a simple faith, even if it lacks a fullness of understanding, their response is because the Holy Spirit is at work in the calling to repentance and the proclamation of the reigning of Jesus. The four heed the call of repentance, turning from disbelief and unbelief toward the one whose kingdom is coming and whose reigning is beginning and they follow.

Their calling is unique: they will be fishers of men. Peter and Andrew, James and John are the first four of what will become a small cadre of men who will be identified as Jesus’ disciples, his students, and they will follow – literally, follow – after him from Capernaum, across Israel and Judea, and eventually to Jerusalem and the cross. Later, Jesus will send them out in mission to the church. They will continue the preaching of the reigning of God in the church. What began with the Baptizer, what continued in Jesus, will be given to them. They will be eyewitnesses to the world of Jesus’ reigning, culminating at the throne of the cross. That will be the message they will carry to the end of the world, generation to generation, as the church preaches the reigning of Christ and his promised return.

Maybe that’s why this is a rather difficult text for us to understand in our 21^st century context when we try to see ourselves over and against the calling of Peter, Andrew, James and John. Their calling, their vocation as fishers of men was so unique and so – to use the term – “eventful,” especially being in the presence of Jesus himself. They got to see Jesus healing the sick, drive out demons, and restore creation’s disorder, a foretaste of what will come in the last days! It’s tempting to consider our lives, by comparison, as rather “blah.”

A few weeks ago, at a Christmas party, I was talking with a Christian man who dared to be wonderfully vulnerable and honest. He knew I was a pastor, and he said, “You know what the hardest part of being a modern-day disciple is?” I figured he was going to say something about having to cow-tow to company policy to not play Christian Advent and Christmas music while at work, or being chastised for saying, “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays,” or simply daring to speak the name of Jesus boldly and plainly. I was a little surprised when, instead of any of those things, he said, “It’s that the Christian life is so ordinary for most of us.”

His comment resonated with me. What does the Christian life look like as we get into 2026? Probably a lot like what it looked like as we ended 2025, if we’re honest, which was much like 2024’s life. We come to the Lord’s house on a Sunday where we hear his Word for us, receive the Lord’s Supper, and encourage each other in Christian hope and love. We spend some time together in Sunday school and Bible study. It’s a blessed hour or two of respite and refreshment apart from the rest of the world and its increasing pressures. But, when the Benediction is spoken over us, it seems like we are expected to go back to our regular routine. We leave this holy place, perhaps going out to eat on the way home, or stopping at the grocery store to pick a few things up for the week. We get home and finish homework or projects for work, do a little laundry, catch a quick nap, watch a game on television, and get ready to enter the rat-race of the week. Tomorrow morning, when the alarm goes off, it’s up and at them: get the kids up and off to school, get to the carpool on time, go to work and do what you are to do. Go home, make dinner, and get the kids bathed and in bed, just to spend a little time with your spouse before you, too, call it a day. In between you have doctors appointments, meetings, ball games; you have to drop the car at the mechanic and pick up clothes from the cleaners; you have to call your accountant and you wait for a call back from your doctor. It’ll be more-or-less the same thing this week as it was last week as it was the week before.

In the middle of that ordinary-ness, it feels like it would be nice to have Jesus walk by, interrupt the ordinary and mundane, and simply call out and say, “Follow me.”

Jesus does – just not the way you might want or expect. He begins with this message: “Repent, for the kingdom is at hand.” Not “repent,” as he said in ancient Capernaum, “turn from your unbelief.” Simply, repent, turn, from this way of thinking and follow Jesus in the ordinariness of your life as a child of God, rejoicing in each day as its own gift to follow him.

You have an even more sure and certain word than Andrew and Peter, John and James. They were following Jesus based on a simple invitation and, perhaps, an inkling that this Jesus was something special. You have an entire Scripture – Old and New Testament – that reveals God’s plan of salvation promised and fulfilled in Jesus at the cross. You have the very words of Peter and Andrew, James and John and the entire apostolic witness that points you to Jesus, calling you to follow. You are as close as that invitation and that promise, renewed and recalled every time you make the sign of the cross on your forehead or heart as was placed over you at the font, when water was poured over you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. He comes to you in the reading and preaching of the Word of God, calling you to repentance and proclaiming your sins forgiven in his name. Christ comes to you as both the host who invites you to his table, and as the very meal itself as his body and blood are shared with you in, with and under bread and wine. In these ordinary elements, in the ordinary preaching and teaching, in the ordinariness of gathering as the body of Christ, Jesus comes and calls you to follow him.

To be sure, your calling and your following will look much different than it did for Peter and Andrew, James and John. The most obvious difference is you are not called to leave everything behind to follow him. Their calling as fishers of men who follow Jesus will take them from Capernaum, across Israel and Judea, and eventually to the very foot of the cross of Jesus. They will see him suffer and die. Most will flee, running and hiding, fearing for their lives. It will take Jesus’ appearance on Easter Sunday evening, declaring “Peace,” his ascending into heaven, his Pentecost delivering of the Holy Spirit to send them out into the world, no longer as disciples, “students,” but as apostles, “sent ones.”

You are called to follow him in your vocation, the place where God places you, to serve your neighbor in Jesus’ name. You have multiple vocations and they often overlap: parent and child, for example, or employer and employee. Most of you will not be called to be professional church workers or oversea missionaries. Most of us will live the ordinary life of discipleship in our ordinary ways. This is even true of pastors and the ordinariness of parish ministry!

Ordinary doesn’t mean “less than.” God uses the ordinary – remember? He used the “ordinary” Mary and Joseph to be parents for his Son. He used “ordinary” human flesh into which Jesus entered. He used the “ordinary” cross to rescue the world.  God calls you to ordinary faithfulness and faithful ordinariness in those places and in those times – not just in this place on a Sunday morning. You are always a Baptized child of God; you are always in a state of following; you are always in a place of serving.  When you change your baby’s diaper, you are serving as a disciple of Jesus. When you submit the quarterly report to your boss, you are serving as a disciple of Jesus. When you complete your math and English homework, you are serving as a disciple of Jesus. In that work, in those moments, Christ is reigning and the kingdom comes through you.

Don't confuse ordinary-ness for lack of opportunity and miss those moments. Perhaps, in those areas of vocation, in your ordinary conversation, you will have the opportunity to be a fisher of men, speaking boldly and clearly of God and his grace and mercy in Christ Jesus. Perhaps not. Perhaps your greatest witness will be in your ordinary, gentle service for others. St. Francis of Assisi famously said, “Preach the Gospel at all times. Use words if necessary.” Live each day as a disciple of Jesus, celebrating the ordinariness of the calling you live as a disciple of Jesus, knowing that even in these ordinary days, Christ is reigning in and through you.

(I am humbly proud to say this sermon was published in the Advent - Epiphany issue of Concordia Pulpit Journal, Vol. 36, Part 1, p.33-36; (c) 2005 Concordia Publishing House, St. Louis, MO.)

Come and See - John 1: 29-42

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Last week was Jesus’ baptism. Water flowed; the Spirit descended; the Father spoke: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” With His public ministry consecrated to begin preaching and teaching, it was time for His work – His epiphany, His revealing – as Messiah to begin.

John the Baptizer has been preaching and baptizing, but it is now time for him to exit, stage left. In his place, Jesus will take the forefront. John had said, “Behold, He’s coming.” Now, with Jesus’ arrival, John proclaims, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” It’s as if John is saying to all those around, “Here He is – the one for whom you have all been waiting, the One foretold, the One promised by God. Behold!” So there is no doubt, John adds his own eyewitness testimony of Jesus’ baptism, an admission that his way of baptizing is completed and the new baptism of Christ by the Spirit is to begin.

Again, the next day, Jesus appears and, again, John confesses and points to Jesus: “Behold, the lamb of God.” John is connecting the Old Testament rites and rituals of sacrifice with Jesus. In the times past, sacrifices were made morning and night for the worshipping community, and then throughout the day people brought their own sacrifices to the temple. I cannot begin to guess how many animals, how many lambs and sheep and pigeons and doves were slaughtered and burned to atone for the people’s sins. It was an ongoing, daily rite with the sight and sounds a part of the life of Jerusalem. Identifying Jesus as the Lamb of God was pointing ahead, foreshadowing, foretelling that Jesus would be the atoning sacrifice, the vicarious substitute, provided by God Himself for His people of all time. Jesus would truly be the perfect and sinless vicarious substitute, both completing the Old Testament sacrifice and taking the place of all sinners.

John continues to flip further into the shadows; Jesus takes center stage. Even John’s disciples behold, see, and follow. 

I’m struck by the interchange between Jesus and John’s disciples. As they start to follow, immediately Jesus asks, “What do you seek?” That is, as the saying goes, a loaded question. Notice, not who but what. “What do you seek?”

If we were to do a man on the street poll, stopping random strangers outside Jumbos, or Walmart, or Atwoods, or even your bank, your place of work, or your doctor’s office, what would people say to that question, “What do you seek?” It’s another way of asking, “What do you want?” How might the average person answer that? I suppose, as a teacher’s answer book would say, “Answers may vary.” Someone who has been unemployed may be seeking a new job. Someone who is sick seeks health, or at least, a course of treatment. Someone who is lonely seeks a friend or a spouse. Someone who is angry, or depressed, or anxious might seek relief, comfort, and joy. Someone who is dying might seek life. Others might want something less wholesome, seeking a buzz, a high, or a one-night’s love to ease the pain and fill the empty heart. I suspect those, or answers similar to those, are what you would most likely encounter. 

I wonder what would happen if we did an anonymous poll among the people of St. Paul’s? What are you seeking? What do you want? Truth be told, our Old Adams and Old Eves aren’t all that different from the answers out there, outside of Christ and His Church. Health? Absolutely. Wealth? Maybe not to be King Midas, but to go through the month without sweating the last few days before payday would be nice. Peace? Who wouldn’t love a home where kids play in peace, a neighborhood where there weren’t shouting matches over how loud music is at night, and a world where countries aren’t trying to eliminate each other from the face of the earth. The list is endless.

Don’t misunderstand me: all these things are important. They are all daily bread, First Article gifts of God. But, remember, they are all temporal. They have beginnings; they have endings, all occurring in this lifetime, this side of eternity. Jesus isn’t calling John’s two disciples into discipleship of possessions. For that matter, He isn’t calling 21^st century followers to disciple possessions, either. To be stewards, caretakers, yes, to care for them and use them for our wellbeing and that of our neighbors, but to hold onto them loosely as the temporal gifts that they are, recognizing that none of those things can save.

Go back to Jesus’ question: What are you seeking? It is as if Jesus is asking, “Do you seek what John has pointed to?” Do you seek what the Scriptures say of me? Is this the path of discipleship you wish to follow? Do you want to know what God has planned to rescue and save all of mankind? Do you desire the Messiah?” The answer for the child of God is a simple, humble, and faith-filled “Yes.”

And you, with Andrew, are able to proclaim that you, too, have found the Messiah. I suppose we could have some fun arguing just whom found who, but regardless, Andrew gets it right: we are, in fact, seeking what God has promised and you, Jesus, are He. Our culture is quick to point to ourselves, to say, “Look what I have done; See what I have found.” Christ comes to us; we do not come to Him of our own doing. In fact, John’s the evangelist even helps us see this with an interesting pair of bookends. At the beginning of John’s Gospel, Jesus asks the question, “What are you seeking?” At the end, St. John writes that “These things are written that you may believe Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.” 

Through that written word, the Holy Spirit creates faith in the hearts of men and women. “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God,” Paul wrote in Romans 10. With the very Word made flesh doing the speaking, it should be of no wonder to us that faith was created.

“Messiah” and “Christ” mean the same thing – Messiah is Hebrew; Christ is Greek – both meaning anointed. As the Messiah-Christ, Jesus is anointed to be the fulfillment of all of God’s plan of salvation. He comes to bear the sins of the world. He comes to redeem the world. He comes to die on the cross, the perfect substitute and payment for the world’s sins.

Did Andrew know that already? Probably not. As far as being a disciple goes, he’s still a beginner, a rookie follower of Jesus. He will have much to learn in the days ahead. There will be moments that instead of following, he will turn tail and run. But, after Jesus ascension, strengthened in that same calling of following, Andrew will become one of the apostles proclaiming, “Behold! I have found the Christ.”

You have found the Messiah-Christ. Well, He found you, first. He found you at the font, where you were introduced to His grace in water and word. He found you when you were brought to His House, where you continue to find Him every time His Word is read and proclaimed. He finds you every time you come to His table where He stands as both meal and host. And, like Andrew, you continue to follow, learn, and grow in faith and knowledge of Jesus as your Messiah-Christ.

Jesus invites them, “Come and see.” The invitation continues to be extended, every time you speak of that grace and love of Christ to others. “Come and see.” Come and see the One who died for you, who rose for you, who ascended for you, and who intercedes for you. Come and see the love of Jesus that flows in water and word, in bread and wine, in holy absolution. Come and see, with eyes of faith, the Jesus who fulfills all righteousness for you.

 

Jesus' Baptism For You - Matthew 3: 13-17

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

A few moments ago, we read from the Small Catechism about the benefits of Baptism: “It works forgiveness of sins, delivers from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation to all who believe this.” Lest anyone think Luther was merely playing in a water fountain, he cites the word of Christ: Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.” In the gift of Baptism, water and word are combined by the power of the Holy Spirit to kill the old Adam, the old Eve, the sinful nature that is within each of us, and bring a new, spirit-filled child of God, to life. Baptism drowns, Baptism births new life; Baptism kills, Baptism makes alive; Baptism buries, Baptism raises.

Yet, Matthew says, “Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to John to be baptized by him.” John’s was a baptism for repentance, calling sinners to the waters of the Jordan River to turn their lives, in faith, towards the Coming One. The kingdom is coming, John preached. His job is to prepare; the One Greater is coming and coming soon. John had been thundering out against the chief priests and teachers of the law, calling them a brood of vipers, declaring that the ax is at the root of the tree, that the winnowing fork is sharpened and ready, that the fires are stoked to burn up the waste. John baptized sinners who were reptant because of his message, but there stood Jesus, wanting to be baptized. The sinless Son of God, the Lamb of God who has come to take away the sins of the world, is asking to be baptized? It doesn’t seem to make sense? Even John gets this – he argues that he should be baptized by Jesus, not the other way around; John realizes he’s not worthy of untying the shoes of the sinless Lamb of God, yet Jesus comes to him to be baptized?

It is to fulfill all righteousness. Isn’t that an interesting phrase? If you were to chase that phrase through the Scriptures, you would discover that righteousness is not something that is demanded or commanded by God of His people. It is in fact that exact opposite: righteousness is a declaration, something given by God to His people. In the Old Testament, and especially in the Psalms, righteousness is the saving deeds of God that HE does on behalf of His people. The Germans have a wonderful word for this – heilsgeschichte – that loosely means the story of salvation. Over and over the story of salvation is grounded in the righteousness and saving acts of God. These are so closely related that it’s as if Jesus is saying, “Do this, John, to fulfill my Father’s plan of salvation.”

Jesus must submit to John’s baptism, not for himself, but to save the very people John has baptized, that the Church has baptized, that have been baptized in this font. In that Jordan river moment, you see a picture of how Christ will save His people from their sins: He stands among us, with us, and for us. He takes our place, and in receiving the sinner’s baptism from John, it’s as if all of the world’s sins that have been washed away from us are washed onto Him. God made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us. This baptismal picture is a foretaste of what is to come. Jesus doesn’t stop standing among us, with us and for us when he leaves the river. He continues in our place all the way to the cross. Ultimately, that is where all righteousness is completed and fulfilled, where and when the innocent Lamb of God is offered as the once-for all, one-for-all sacrifice in the place of many. That is why it is fitting for Jesus to come to the Jordan and be baptized to – literally and spiritually – stand in the place of many.

Still dripping from the baptismal washing, Jesus climbs out of the water. Immediately, “Behold, the heavens were opened to Him and He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming to rest on Him.” We speak of once-in-a-lifetime event; usually those are milestone firsts – a first kiss, a first step, a first child’s birth. This isn’t as much a first, but an end-times event: the heavens are opened, the Spirit descends as a dove. It’s as if the Father is answering any questions even before they are answered: “Who is this guy, and what’s all the fuss from John about baptizing him?” Jesus, who is the perfect Servant of God, having now received the Spirit of God, will perform the work of bringing righteousness to the nations, ministering to the crushed reeds and smoldering wicks – the repentant, contrite and faithful - remaining in Israel.

A second call, “Behold,” this time alerting us to the Father’s voice: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” The voice of the Father identifies Jesus as His Son. I think this is a bit of a Divine play on words here. Not only is Jesus God’s Son by virtue of the Virgin Birth conceived in Mary by the power of the Spirit, but He is also the entire summation of all of God’s people reduced into one. In other words, Jesus, the Son, embodies all of God’s people. Christ, the sinless Son of God, stands in the place of God’s son, Israel – and the Church – that needs saving. The One who has come to be baptized in the place of sinners does so as God’s sinless Son by right, so that He can save God’s “son” that is lost in sin. Jesus is truly the Son of God who fulfills all righteousness for His Father’s people.

Matthew used the word, behold, two times. Behold means to look at something, to see something, and to do so with great attention for detail. So, let’s do that very thing: let us behold what this means for us. Close your eyes for a moment: Behold! See Jesus, standing in the river with water cascading down his face. Behold! Look closely – look at features, face, hands, body. Zoom out just a bit. Behold! Do you see the Spirit descending, the dove alighting? Behold! See the heavens parting? Now, zoom back in at the face. Do you see Jesus? Now, I want you to let His face morph and change so that you see your own face. See your own face standing in the Jordan. Behold! Christ stands there for you! Behold! Christ stands in your place! Behold! Christ takes your sins onto and into Himself and, in your baptism, His holiness and righteousness is washed onto you. Behold! You are made holy. The transformation is so complete that – Behold! – as you look upwards, even with water dripping in your eyes, the heavens are opened for you. Behold, the Spirit of God comes upon you and delivers all of the blessings of God upon you, the baptized, creating, strengthening and enabling faith to believe these gifts of God. Behold! The Father speaks, this time to you, “You are my beloved, my Son, my Daughter, and with you I am well pleased.” Hold that picture, for just a moment.

Behold…  Now, open your eyes.

There is one unfortunate thing about your baptism: the water has long left your head. There is no tangible evidence that remains. For most of us, there isn’t even a memory. Yet, Baptism remains. It never needs to be re-done, renewed, or remodeled. The cleansing, saving water of Holy Baptism never evaporates. The sign of the cross, made on your forehead and over your heart, stands as a sign of Christ’s eternal victory. The water, once poured over your head, continues to give life. The Triune name of God, spoken over you, does not fade into history. Any time, every time, you doubt; any time, every time, you are repentant; any time, every time you feel the devil’s hot breath and hear his lying words; any time, every time you wonder, “Is Christ for me?” return to your Baptism. With the sign of the cross, with the words of absolution, with bread and wine, with the Word preached and read, Christ returns you to your Baptism.

Behold: the word of your heavenly Father: You are His beloved. With you, He is well pleased.

Jesus Is...For Parents - Luke 2: 40-52

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel lesson. Luke 2:40-52.

As a parent, this text infuriates me. I would have been livid had I been Joseph. For a child to so completely disrespect his parents, to not follow obediently and trave with them – at least be in the same group! – is unconscionable. He shows complete disregard, not only for Mary and Joseph’s parental authority, but for their parental responsibility, their fears, and their concerns. Overall, it seems that Jesus simply doesn’t care about Mary and Joseph one whit.

As a parent, I empathize with Mary and Joseph deeply. You parents, you grandparents, you probably do as well because you’ve had that experience of having a child disappear while you were at the grocery store or the mall or at the ballpark. Your son, your daughter, your grandkid – he or she was right next to you just a second ago, but when you turn around it’s as if – poof – they disappeared. The frantic search, as concern quickly accelerates to angst and then fear; the terrible “what if” thoughts; the scurrying down aisles, looking under clothes racks, below the bleachers, to finally find them stretched out beneath a rack filled with coats, simply needing a nap, them waddling towards you with two boxes of their favorite cereal under their arms, or down the toy aisle staring at the latest and greatest thing they saw at their friend’s house, or playing quietly with a couple other friends, totally oblivious to your frantic and panicked search. Thankfully, most of the time, these panicked searches end up well, but with a bag of mixed feelings: joy the lost child is found, frustration the child left in the first place, and shame that you missed the fact that your child disappeared without your knowledge.

Because you’ve experienced this, you can understand and imagine Mary and Joseph’s frustration, fear, and concern. Luke wants us to see this story through their eyes. He wants us to know their grief and pain, their frantic efforts to find their son. At the evening camp, after a day’s journey – fifteen to twenty miles – from Jerusalem, they discovered Jesus wasn’t there. A quick search among their traveling companions identified Jesus was not among them. Then, the frantic return to the city, swollen in population for Passover, growing and blossoming hour by hour, stretching into a three-day search for their son, their twelve-year old son, their only son.

They went to the temple. I wonder if their return to the Temple was motivated by spiritual, as much as physical and emotional, need? You know how it is – in times of great crisis, literally going to the house of God for prayer, solitude and – perhaps – answers? A sense that they’ve tried everything else, so perhaps this was the final option? Or was it less spiritual, and simply checking the last place they remembered seeing Jesus?  

And, then, I can imagine – as can you – their mixed bag of emotions when they discover Jesus there, in the Temple, surrounded by the great teachers of the Law. It was apparently an incredible give-and-take between the boy and the men: Jesus both listening to them and asking questions, but also answering and demonstrating great understanding. Mary and Joseph, astonished at what was before them, both seeing and hearing this dialogue; frustrated at their son’s seeming lack of respect and concern; relief to find him safe.

And I have to wonder if she remembered the day she and Joseph brought Jesus to Temple for His circumcision, that strange day that the old man, Simeon, held the baby in his arms, sang the Nunc Dimittis – Lord, let your servant depart in peace – and then he looked at Mary and said:

This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, 35 so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

Did she wonder if this moment was the first of more to come? Was there understanding that in her Son, God deigned to dwell among man, not in a Tabernacle, or even in the Temple, but in human flesh? Did she have any inclination that the day would come when those same teachers of the law would turn against Jesus, instead of sitting and engaging with Jesus in teaching and learning they engaged instead in plotting to kill Him? Could she have any idea that He would, in 30 years, make His final journey to Jerusalem for Passover? Was there any inkling in her mind that then He would be left behind again – this time not by parents but by everyone – including His Heavenly Father? Did she understand that there would be another three-day period where she would be separated from her son who lay, dead and buried, behind a sealed stone and where she would finally find Him, but mistake Him for the gardener?

No…I don’t think so. Standing there in Temple, watching her 12 year old son with pride and curiosity, with frustration and anxiety, she didn’t have any idea of what lay ahead for Jesus and what was necessary for Him to fulfill His name and be Savior. What she knew is that it was time to go home, back to sleepy little Nazareth, and for Jesus to go with her. He did, Luke noting that He continued to grow in wisdom and in stature with God and man. She had found her Son, where He was most at home – in His Father’s house. But it was time to leave the Temple behind for another year.

I started this sermon by putting us parents in the shoes of Mary and Joseph. Whether you count your child’s lifespan still as weeks and months, or by the decade, whether you push him or her in a stroller or they sometimes push you in a wheelchair, you have had those moments and experiences of anger and frustration – some were righteously felt, but if we’re honest, others not so much. Parenting is one of God’s great gifts and children are a blessing. It is the primary relationship of all mankind, parents and children, and it is to be one where grace and mercy is freely practiced and love and compassion are exercised.

But, when this relationship breaks, it causes terrible heartache and heartbreak. 

The devil cannot abide a peaceful, loving home. So, the devil loves to take the gift and fill us with frustration and hurt so that we call parenthood a burden, and he loves to take the blessing and fill it with harsh words and broken hearts so that we call motherhood and fatherhood a curse.  He fuels society to call children a disposable choice, much like the terrible Christmas sweater that you discarded last week. Love and compassion are surrendered to getting even and showing who’s boss. Grace and mercy are given over to self-justification and self-righteousness. And then, when we realize our mistakes and our sins against our kids,  the devil takes that all and wraps it up with a horrible, thorny bow and delivers it to us again as shame and guilt. He brings up memories from weeks, years, even decades ago, that Christian parents would never have thought such things, or felt such things, or done such things toward their children. He leaves us parents in our own despair, seeing only our failures and our homes as anything but places where the Spirit of God dwells.

Parents – moms and dads of all ages – hear this Word of God. Christ comes for you. He, who descends to earth as a human boy, who in holiness perfectly submitted to earthly and sinful parents, is your Savior. For all of those parental melt-downs, and fatherly conniption fits, and motherly tantrums, and exasperated grandparent “that’s not how we did it in our day,” Jesus is yours. In repentance, surrender them to Him. As this year begins and the old year disappears into the rearview mirror, do the same with your sins. They are in the past, forgiven, abandoned at the cross. Jesus didn’t drag your sins up from the grave with Him on Easter. Don’t let Satan continue to weigh you down with those moments. In faith, know, believe, trust and rely that you, too, are forgiven by Christ. In humility, confess your failing to your kids and ask them for their forgiveness, too, without excuses or condition (you know, the “I’m sorry I yelled, but if you would have cleaned up your room…”) and pledge to do better next time. When you do that, you give your child the wonderful opportunity to share the Word of God with you, the Word that says, “I forgive you, Mom; I forgive you, Dad.” You might have to teach them to use those words; that’s OK, and it’s worth teaching. Because there, in the family, united with Christ in Baptism and grounded in the Word, there is Christ.

Amen.

Beautiful Feet on Christmas Day - Isaiah 52: 7-10

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

The text is the Old Testament Lesson, Isaiah 52, especially these words, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.”

There is great beauty and wonder in a newborn’s feet and hands. I wonder if Mary and Joseph sat there, in the stable, counting Baby Jesus’ fingers and toes. I have an honest curiosity that is probably greater than most, you might say. Even after the sonogram technician assured us with each of the three kids that each had ten fingers and ten toes, no more and no less, I still counted for myself. I remember sitting there holding the children, having just witnessed the wonderous birth event – technically, perhaps, not a miracle in that the laws of physics and nature were not changed, but nevertheless often considered as if it were a miracle in that it was the gift of life brought into the world – sitting there, holding this wonderous baby but being most particularly fascinated at their teeny tiny feet. It was as if the wonder were reduced down to just two feet, ten toes. Do you know that a normal foot has 26 separate bones with 33 separate joints and 19 muscles that work together to make that magnificent appendage work? I rubbed the arch and the foot curled slightly, the toes wiggling in their new-found freedom, already seeking for space to move, to crawl, to walk. Beautiful feet, indeed.

What is it that makes feet beautiful? It doesn’t take long for feet to become something less than attractive. Perhaps that’s why our feet spend most of their lives covered up. A whole industry exists to try to beautify those wonderful instruments of peripatetic propulsion – peripatetic is your word of the day, it means walking. We buy pumice stones and sanding blocks to sand down calloused heels. We use emery boards to smooth sharp toe nails and coat them with enamel and lacquer and crystal gel to make them match our clothes. We surgically straighten bunions and correct hammer toes and get rid of bone spurs. We eliminate athlete’s foot. We topically coat with lotions and potions all with the notion that we, too, can have feet just as beautiful as those of models that we see on television.

But, the fact is that there are feet that no amount of work will make beautiful again. Have you ever seen photos of a veteran ballerina? Their feet are wrecked from the decades of being tightly wrapped into their toe shoes and dancing, pirouetting, and leaping with their toes. Ranch hands and farmers rarely have pretty feet after being tenderized by livestock and machinery. If you want to see ugly feet, look at a soldier’s feet, especially if they have been in the Infantry. And there are the feet that exist in the fallen world: feet traumatized by disease, broken by accidents, shattered by man’s inhumanity to man, and even those that are malformed and deformed because of genetic failures from birth.

Do this: move your feet just a bit. Roll the ankles a wee bit. Tense and relax the foot muscles. Wiggle the toes. If that’s too much, just give them a little bit of a lift, maybe a soft tap on the floor. How do they feel? Were they comfortable this morning because of the warm weather, as opposed to being achey and stiff from the cold of the past week? Maybe you ate a little too well and the gout is acting up, or arthritis had you reach for the Tylenol this morning. Maybe you stood for too long last night and your feet still burn. Did you stub your toe last trying to help the grandkids with their presents? Or, worse, on the way to the bathroom at 3am, did you step on the dreaded Legos hiding in the carpet?

In your feet, there is a microcosm of the entire fallenness of the world. The aches and pains, the hurts and the struggles your feet experience, they are in miniature of what the world knows since the fall. The cracked heels, the ingrown nails, the fungus, the flat arches, the neuropathy – these are reminders that we live in a fallen world, reminders that are very real and very painful.

Jesus came into that very world to redeem you, all of you, whole and wholly – body, soul, eyes, ears, mind, heart, head, shoulders, knees and toes. And, feet.

Close your eyes for just a second. I want you to imagine for a moment the Nativity: Mary and Joseph holding their newborn Son. See the joy in Mary’s gaze and the wonder in Joseph, how the Son of God was born? Do you see their loving caress? Now, zoom in a little bit. Look more closely at the Swaddled Baby squirming and wiggling just a bit and…oops – there it is. Freeze frame. Look closely. Did you see His foot pop out? There is His foot. Zoom in a little more in your mind. Look closely and there it is…a shadow on His foot. Can it be? Why, that shadow looks like the shape of a cross. 

Open your eyes. I don’t know that is true – in fact, it is highly doubtful. What I want you to see, though, is that those newborn feet will begin a journey from that manger down the same path that you and I know and down which you and I journey. Jesus’ feet will take Him places where He will experience our sorrows and losses. He will be lead out into the wilderness where He will be tempted to leap from the top of a mountain. He will walk into a temple where He will experience anger at what God’s people did to the Father’s house. He will stop a funeral procession and speak with a grieving mother. He will enter the home of a Gentile soldier whose son is critically ill. He will attend a wedding and turn water into wine and He will stand on a hillside and feed 5000 with a boy’s lunch. He will stand outside Lazarus’ tomb and weep. And then those beautiful feet will make the slow climb up the road to Jerusalem, down the path where palm branches and cloaks were strewn, to an upper room where He ate with the disciples, declaring His Body and Blood in, with and under bread and wine. His feet will lead Him and the 11 out to the Garden of Gethsemane where soldiers will, first, fall at His feet, only to rise up and arrest Him. He will stand in the court of Herod and Pilate, and then be led out to be crucified. Nails would pierce those beautiful feet, pinning Him to the cross where He would die. Those feet would be wrapped up and lovingly buried. And, on the third day, those feet would rise from the grave, and Jesus would stand, risen and alive, next to Mary; they would journey to Emmaus with three disciples, He would stand suddenly behind locked doors with the Disciples, and He would declare peace.

I said Jesus follows the footsteps of humanity. As His disciples, we also follow after His footsteps. We follow His footsteps under the cross, this side of heaven. This side of heaven, there are aches and pains, sorrows and sadness. There are also moments of joy and happiness, filled with peace and Hope.

I want you to know that no matter how embarrassed you are of your feet, your feet are beautiful because of Jesus. That’s how God sees them: beautifully forgiven in Jesus. That sounds weird to think of feet as being forgiven, doesn’t it? But it’s true. With the bunions and hammer toes and athlete’s foot and cracked heels and missing toes and dwarfed feet – God sees your feet as beautiful in Christ.

There will be a day when your feet will be truly, wonderfully beautiful and all of the aches and pains of your feet – and all the aches and hurts of this world – will be gone. In the resurrection of all flesh, your feet will be completely recreated in the perfection God intended them to be. And for those of us whose feet are less than perfect now, that are missing pieces, that have been I think they will be whole. I admit this is a goofy picture, but I imagine myself in the resurrection, sitting in the grass, just staring at my feet and toes, wiggling them like crazy, and feeling that wonderful tingling burn up into my calves. Then, in my imagination, I see a pair of nail-marked feet walk up next to me. The things is, they look the same – minus the marks, of course - His feet are mine; my feet are His.  Will it happen that way? I don’t know. But I’m looking forward to the day of finding out.

In a few minutes, your feet will pick you up and leave this place. You’ll go to your homes and, in the days ahead, you’ll get back to your normal routine. But, you leave this place with beautiful Christmas feet. Use your beautiful feet to share this Christmas message with those whom you encounter today, and tomorrow, and over the weekend. Christmas doesn’t stop on the 25^th, remember? The Christmas season continues until January 6, Epiphany. Tell them about the feet of the One who died. Tell them about the One who redeems their feet. Tell them about the promise of resurrection feet. Tell them they have beautiful feet because of the Good News of Jesus.

Christmas Angels With Christmas Messages

Glory to God in the highest and peace to His people on earth. Amen.

Perhaps, other than the Baby Jesus Himself, there is no other aspect of the Nativity that garners as much attention as the angels. I understand why, and I suspect you do as well: curiosity. Most of us have never seen an angel – certainly not like those that appeared on that dark night, illuminating the dark, Judean countryside, and sounding forth the Lord’s message. An angel – remember, angel means “messenger” – delivered the good-news message of Christ’s birth. “Unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you: you shall find the babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” The solo voice was soon joined by an angelic orchestra who filled the sky with song and light: “Glory to God in the highest and peace to His people on earth.” In art and in hymnody, this angelic moment garners our attention.

Tonight I want to tell you about another angel. This angel I do know. She even has a name – Mrs. Stahl. Before anyone gets too excited, let me explain: I don’t mean she was a heavenly angel, but she was a messenger, and that is why I speak of her as an angel. Mrs. Stahl was my kindergarten teacher at Holy Cross Lutheran Church in Emma, Missouri in 1979. The funny thing is, besides her name, I remember almost nothing about her. I think she had curly hair, but I’m not sure. I don’t remember her face, or her voice; I remember her as being kind, but not why. I remember our classroom – it was big, about the size of Mrs. LaBrue’s room, but with wood floors, pink walls, and old-school desks, the kind with the spinning chairs attached - and I remember her desk in the front of the room, off to the side, near the windows, with an honest-to-goodness blackboard passing behind her across the front wall.

I remember this placement because every Friday, we stood beside her desk to recite the week’s memory verse to her. Every Monday we were given a Bible verse to learn, by rote. We practiced it every morning, saying it together, but Fridays we were on our own. With our back to the class, we faced her and said our assigned verse.

What brought all of this to mind is being here with the kids, listening to them learn the Christmas narrative, and watching them come to the microphone and repeat their lines. You see, the very first memory verse I learned that fall was from the Christmas narrative of Luke 2: “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord.” So, there I was, standing next to her desk and I ripped off those nineteen words like a 5 year old auctioneer. A Plus, Gold Star, thank you very much, and I turned around to go sit down, quite proud of my accomplishment. But that’s not where my memory stops. I can’t remember her hair color, or the smell of her perfume, but I remember what Mrs. Stahl did next. She touched my arm and stopped me – in those days, teachers could still touch students. When I turned around to face her, she praised me for getting the words right, but then asked, “Now, can you tell me what it means?” I don’t remember my answer; maybe I said something about Christmas and Baby Jesus but it’s also possible that I just shrugged my little shoulders. Mrs. Stahl said, “The angel told the shepherds Jesus was for them. But it also means Jesus is for you. He was born to be your Savior. Jesus is for you, Jonathan.” Then, one by one, as each child came to her desk and recited their memory, she told each child the same thing: Jesus is for you.

It took many years for me to get it, to figure out what she did and why Mrs. Stahl did that on that fall morning in 1979. In that Emma, Missouri classroom, Mrs. Stahl was an angel. I don’t mean a being with wings who descended from the heavens in radiant light like happened that first Christmas outside Bethlehem. Angel means “messenger,” remember, and angels have both a message to deliver and someone to deliver it to. Mrs. Stahl was an angel and the message she delivered was the Gospel, the Good News, that Jesus is the Savior. And her audience was a group of four, five, and six year old kids in western Missouri.

We weren’t all that different from the shepherds, I suppose: an unlikely audience, overlooked by most folks, important to our families but at the same time insignificant in the scope of things. Like the shepherds, we kids probably weren’t completely sure what was being told to us, yet we realized this angel-messenger-teacher was trying to tell us something, that her message was unique and special: that Jesus wasn’t just the Savior, or the Savior of the world, or the Savior for our parents and adults but a Savior for us.

That Bethlehem night some 2000 years earlier, God became enfleshed to dwell among those whom He came to save. Conceived by the Holy Spirit, born to His Virgin mother Mary and stepfather Joseph, God the Son humbled Himself to fulfill the Father’s promise made to another woman millennia earlier. Through Eve came the curse of man; through Mary came the salvation of man. To Eve came the promise of a seed who one day would crush satan’s head; to Mary was born the one who would be bruised but conquer. Through Eve, hope was passed from generation to generation. Through Mary, the hopes and fears of all the years were fulfilled.

Unto you... Those two words take the Christmas narrative and deliver it to hearers across the globe, across the ages, across borders, across languages. Unto you… Those words still echo to this evening of Christmas. They carry from the mouth of the heavenly angel…unto you. Unto you all…Jesus, born; Jesus, Savior; Jesus, Christ the Lord.

I lost touch with Mrs. Stahl. She left Holy Cross, and two years later we moved to Texas. But I’ve never forgotten what she taught me that morning. She taught it better than most of the PhD professors I had at the Seminary, in fact. The Gospel of Jesus isn’t just words in the Bible for pastors to read and memorize. It’s Good News for people, people who included shepherds, kindergarteners, and each one of you here this evening. It’s delivered in classrooms and fields, in homes and hospitals, in prison cells and in battle zones. Unto you. And when one person shares that Good News of Jesus with someone else who needs to hear God’s grace and mercy freely given, without any strings attached; that God deigned to be born in a Bethlehem stable so He could live among us and die for us; that Baby Jesus, laying in a manger, was already your Savior… when one person tells another this story, they…you!... – in that moment – become an angel, a Christmas messenger.

And, in that moment, whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or a week from Thursday, whether it’s your parent or child, a favorite in-law or a struggling step-child, a friend or a complete stranger, you can say with the angels, “Unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior which is Christ the Lord.”

Say it with me: “Unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior which is Christ the Lord.”

Unto you…a Savior. Unto you.

Amen.

 

 

 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel reading from Matthew 1.  

Ever have a bowl of corn flakes? They are about as plain as plain can get. Nothing fancy in that bowl of flaky, yellow crunchiness. That’s part of the problem. How do you market plain? Compared to the some of their multi-textured, suger-crusted, cinnamon-dusted, flavor-enhanced neighbors on the cereal shelves, corn flakes are simple, ordinary, and, well, plain. We say something plain is “vanilla,” but what if it’s not even vanilla? So, some time ago, one of the cereal companies tried rebranding with the clever notion, “Taste it again for the first time.” Remarkably, sales soared as people did just that.

Today, I invite you to do the same with the Christmas narrative. It’s helpful that it’s from Matthew, because most of us are more familiar with the Luke 2 version. Because we’re less accustomed to Matthew’s rendition, it makes it easier for us to “taste the Nativity again for the first time.”

I love this sentence: “Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way.” Consider what those eleven words are saying. Immanuel, God-with-us, was birthed. God takes on flesh to dwell among us. For those keeping score, that is the first miracle that is recorded in this reading. Jesus - who was with the Father since the beginning, remember, along with the Holy Spirit; He’s not showing up fashionably late to the party…He’s always been there! – Jesus physically enters time and space so that He can live like you and me. God is born. Don’t miss that. God is born. Yes, there is a mystery there – how does the infinite take on the finite – but don’t lose sight of the blessing of God. Jesus comes to us; He takes on flesh so that He can be born, so He can be a human, so He can know life this side of heaven with all that entails, including its joys, sorrows, and temptations.

I love the Nativity of Jesus. I also love looking at the various artistic renditions of the holy night. You can quite literally spend hours on-line, scrolling through paintings, sketches, and drawings of the artists’ impression of what may have transpired in that Bethlehem stable. While they range from the incredibly ornate to the surprisingly simple, artists try to capture that sacred moment. Each, in their own way, lend another view of that holy night with the Holy Family, the Infant Babe, the shepherds, and whatever livestock may, or may not, have been present, all paying homage to Immanuel.

But, I submit, none of them get it quite right. They all miss one incredibly important detail, one that lends a deeper understanding to the birth of Jesus. Allow me to explain what I mean.

I was present in the birthing suite for all three of our children. There was blood, and crying, and pain and agony and then, the cry of the baby over and against the tears of Laura and me. I have yet to see an artist who has captured that in the birth of Jesus. All of the paintings present a clean, sanitary, sterile picture for us as if Mary were pregnant one minute and then – POOF! – Jesus appears, wrapped in swaddling blankets with Mary kneeling humbly at the side of the manger, fully dressed without a hair out of place. Joseph is nearby in prayerful pose, also the perfect example of cool, calm and collected. Please understand: I am not making fun, nor being sacrilegious. My point is this: the birth of Jesus was a bloody, messy, and probably loud arrival, just like any other child. When Matthew writes, “Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place this way,” you must understand this: birth is through blood and water.

That blood was a foreshadowing of His life. That bloody, Bethlehem birth foretold His death on the Jerusalem hillside some 30 years later when blood and water would flow from his pierced side. Matthew could just as well have written, “Now, the death of Jesus Christ came about this way,” and he would have been perfectly on track. That’s where the rest of the Gospel is leading: to the cross. The cross is the place where Jesus will atone for our sins. He was born so that He could die as the perfect sacrifice after living the perfect life under the Law of God. In that manger, the cross was already on the horizon, unseen and unknown by anyone else.

The Christmas songs, hymns, and carols we love to sing miss this. Only a few set the stage for us, reminding us that the cross was already on the horizon, unseen and unknown by Mary, Joseph, or anyone else that holy night.

            Why lies He in such mean estate, where ox and ass are feeding?
            Good Christian, fear; for sinners, here, the silent Word is sleeping.
            Nails, spear shall pierce Him through, the cross be born for me, for you;
            Hail, hail the Word made flesh, the babe, the Son of Mary.

That is the first miracle: Jesus is born. There is one other miracle, described in another amazing sentence that Matthew records. Bear with me for a second; we’ll get there.

I have often wondered how the conversation went with Mary and Joseph. “Hey, Joe? I need to tell you something. There was this angel, see? And – well, you’re going to be a step-father, Joe. Hey…what do you think I am? No, Joe…there isn’t anyone else – I promise! No…Joe!!! Don’t say that! Joe! Please….please, listen…I believe the angel…please, believe me!” I’ve never seen that scene in a painting. Have you? But I can imagine a sad look on his face as Joseph turns and walks, slowly, out the door intending to never return.

Back then, marriages were legally binding from the beginning of the betrothal, well before the “I now pronounce you,” that we recognize today. I can’t say I would have blamed Joseph for assuming the worst. “Mary, I’m no doctor – I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express, once – but I know enough to know about birds, bees, flowers, trees and the moon up above.” I don’t blame him for checking in with a lawyer about the process of a divorce before their marriage was sanctified. To his credit, he was going to do things as gently and privately as he could – no public scandal, here – so to cause her no shame.

Then, the angel of the Lord intervened through a dream: “Don’t be afraid.” If you prefer a literal understanding: “Stop; discontinue being afraid, Joseph.” It’s as if the angel tells Joseph, “As Mary believes, you believe, also!” When he wakes up, I imagine he swallowed hard a few times, took a few deep breaths, and said the Hebrew equivalent of “Here we go.” That’s the second miracle. Against all human wisdom and expectation, Joseph believes the promise and call of God to faithfully be the earthly father to Jesus, the Son of God and Son of Mary.

Again, it speaks to the humanity of the story. It wasn’t all those neat, Norman Rockwell-esque “peace on earth, goodwill to men” paintings and sketches we see on our Christmas cards. There were real feelings, emotions, decisions. God gave Joseph both the faith to believe the angel and then to live with the wonderfully strange vocation of (what we would today call) being stepfather to the Son of God.

It’s all there in Matthew’s tight, condensed narrative: Mary, Joseph, virgin mother, prophecy completed, an angelic messenger, and finally the birth of her son, named Jesus.

Joseph appears only a handful of times after this. In fact, after Joseph, Mary, and the infant Jesus flee to Egypt (Matthew 2), he shows up only once more time – when Jesus was 12 (the end of Luke 2), and Mary and Joseph find Him in the temple, holding confirmation class. Then Joseph disappears. If we were writing this as a movie script, he would be “supporting cast.” That’s OK. He had his role; he had his vocation and he did it faithfully.

How do I know that? Simple: “And he called His name Jesus.”

It’s good that we are hearing these words again today. With everything going on, it’s easy to lose sight of what Christmas is all about. That special item that you ordered hasn’t shown up yet. Going to the store is practically an exercise in close combat. You promised to bake cookies with your grandkids, the lights died on the tree yesterday, you’re not feeling all that well, and there are Amazon orders, still in their boxes, that need to be wrapped stealthily when no one is around. Add to that the medical tests and appointments you’re trying to squeeze in under this year’s deductible and making sure everyone has the perfect outfit for Christmas Eve or Day… Well, it's almost enough to put the bah-humbug back into Christmas.

So, here’s what I want to do with you. For a few minutes, we’re going to tune all that out. I’m going to re-read Matthew’s Christmas narrative. I want you to sit with those words, and listen to the words tell the story of the birth of Jesus, your Savior. “Taste it again for the first time” in this moment. Close your eyes, and listen to what the Holy Spirit inspired Matthew to record for us.

¹⁸ Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. ¹⁹ And her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly. ²⁰ But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. ²¹ She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” ²² All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet:

²³ “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with us). 

²⁴ When Joseph woke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him: he took his wife, ²⁵ but knew her not until she had given birth to a son. And he called his name Jesus.

Amid everything else to do this week, remember this: Jesus is for you, dear friend. The Nativity is for you. This gift of God is for you. The gift…the gift of Jesus and His grace, mercy, and love endures. God bless you this crazy, hectic, bonkers week.