Grace to you and peace from God
our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is Matthew
1:18-25.
For most of us, the past month or
so has been consumed – or at least, nibbled at from the margins – with
Christmas. From the music playing while lights are strung; from the annual
argument whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie to the abundance of Hallmark
shows; from the argument of artificial vs real; fun, then frustrated then
frantic shopping for the perfect – or perfectly adequate – gift; parties,
secret Santa’s, and running to kids and Grandkids events, it's been part of our
daily thoughts.
Now, here we are - we’re days
away from Christmas. Kids are so excited you could power small houses off the
energy they emit. You can smell, see, taste, feel it: Christmas is here. And
with it comes the romance of the night. I would say magic, but that doesn’t
seem appropriate, does it? No - let's stick with romantic awe of the night. Singing
Away in a Manger as we imagine angels hovering and glowing, shepherds fearing
and listening - but going; Baby sleeping, Mary beaming, Joseph wondering. People
will sit in the pews with candles are lit, the lights bumped down, and we sing
Silent Night, filled with awe, wonder and amazement. Then it's home and
presents and food and whatever else your family does. That's what it's all
about, right?
Or, is it?
In the midst of our final rushing
about and somewhat growing, jaded thoughts – have you even noticed kids JUST
CAN’T WAIT FOR CHRISTMAS TO GET HERE, but adults can’t WAIT [sarcasm] for
Christmas to be done? - St. Matthew
pulls us back to reality and re-grounds us, our hearts, and our minds as to
what this, this Advent, this preparation, this anticipation is all about. He
does it simply and succinctly with one sentence: “Now the birth of Jesus Christ
came about this way.” With those few words, we are humbly reminded, as Saint Linus
(of Peanuts fame) says “This is what Christmas is all about.”
“The birth of Jesus Christ.” In a
baby, conceived in a supernatural way, but born in a wonderfully common way, God
comes to us. This is both a wonder and a mystery. That God, who is almighty,
all-powerful, and all-knowing, sets aside His full divinity and enters both our
time and space to and takes on human flesh is a mystery to us. How is this
possible, we wonder, that God could do such a thing? It’s a mystery, but not
one that we must try to solve or even resolve. We know it is true, for the
Bible tells us so. Even though we cannot fully explain it, or understand it, we
believe it for God tells us it is so.
It is equally remarkable that the
perfect, holy and sinless Son of God should make His dwelling among us. Why
would someone, who is beyond reproach, chose to live among sinners who will,
eventually, want nothing to do with Him? The greatness of His love moves Him to
dwell among those who will turn against Him, reject Him and murder Him.
But, perhaps, the most remarkable
thing of all is that Jesus is born. Such a simple thing, being born. It happens
every day as mothers deliver baby boys and baby girls. Births today are,
generally, so mundane and ordinary that we take the birth process for granted. Although
more-or-less a normal thing, we still speak of births as miraculous, this
process of bringing human life into the world. Jesus’ birth truly was a
miracle. The sign, the miracle, virgin birth, long waited as Isaiah declared. The
Bible speaks of original sin being passed on through the father, not the
mother, so the virgin birth means Christ is born without sin. Yet, He is born. God choses to birth His Son, not just “zap”
him into existence.
But, consider this: we cannot
ascend to God, so He descends to us. We cannot become as gods, so God becomes
as one of us. We will never understand what it is to be God, and we will never
be able to live under the expectation of fulfillment of the law in our
thoughts, words and actions, so God takes on human flesh to fully understand,
know, and experience all that humanity knows and experiences. Quite literally
from birth, to death, and all things in-between, Jesus will experience it all.
Upon
a manger filled with hay,
In poverty, content he lay.
With milk was fed the Lord of all,
Who feeds the ravens when they call. – Martin Luther
In poverty, content he lay.
With milk was fed the Lord of all,
Who feeds the ravens when they call. – Martin Luther
His name is Jesus. Our English
name Jesus comes to us after an interesting journey from Latin, preceded by
Greek Iasous, which was rendered from the Hebrew Yeshua. When you trace the
word, you discover that Jesus’ name is the perfect explanation of who He is and
what He is to do: “You shall name Him Jesus for He shall save His people from
their sins.” Matthew notes He is Jesus Christ. People misunderstand this,
thinking Christ was his second name, so when Jesus was in abacus class, the
teacher would have called out Christ [comma] Jesus. No; Christ is not a last name.
In that age, last names were usually connected to the father, such as Simon,
son of Jonah. Christ is a title, the Greek version of what we know in the Old
Testament as Messiah. Messiah means anointed. Jesus, the Savior, is the
Annointed One who will rescue His people from their sins.
It’s tempting, and in these last
days and hours before our family celebrations, it’s easy to lost focus, to lose
sight of this very thing: Christmas is about God’s plan of salvation, coming to
fruition in the fulness of God’s timing, conceived in Mary’s womb, and born a
human – and Divine – child, fully God and fully man.
Have you ever had a bowl of corn
flakes – just plain, old corn flakes? Years ago, Kelloggs sales execs noticed
that sales were lagging on this long-time label. Not wanting to cut the
historic cereal – one of the first dry cereals – they hanged their marketing
slogan. Instead of slick advertising pictures, or boasting its vitamin counts,
or having family breakfast, they simply showed a tight shot of the cereal being
poured into the bowl, then milk splashing over the flakes. As a spoon dug in and
lifted towards an open, expectant face, the voice-over simply said, “Kelloggs
Corn Flakes: taste them again for the first time.”
If you find yourself harried and
hurried, flustered and flummoxed these next days, stop. Open your Bible or your
Bible app on your phone and read or listen to Matthew 1 and 2 or Luke 1 and 2. Pray
the Holy Spirit gives you peace that you can see, that you can hear, the simple
joy and wonder of the Christmas narrative, so you can see and hear it again for
the first time.
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