Luke 2:15-20
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
If you were here earlier tonight, you know I used some pictures and stories as inspiration for my children’s sermon with the kids.
There was this one of a dad who had a cochlear implant tattooed on his scalp so that his daughter wouldn’t feel so different, or alone, because of her need for a real cochlear implant as a child.
And there was this guy, who climbed up on stage at the ballet, when his little girl had a meltdown before her recital. He saved the day by going through the motions and doing all the moves, right along with her, in the end.
And all of that was about talking to the kids about the lengths God would go to – and did – in the coming of Jesus, to be like us; to look like us; to live and move and breathe like us; to be vulnerable and to take risks and to show us love that the whole world could see.
And with all of that in mind, I saw a commercial that took it all to another level which might have been a little much for the little ones at the earlier services on Christmas Eve, but that I thought would be okay for a more serious and grown-up sermon at 11 p.m. It’s a commercial for J & B Whiskey where, just like those real-life dads, there’s a grandfather with a lesson to teach about Christmas, too, I think.
This commercial made me think about Christmas – not just because of the lights and the food and the family gathering and the whiskey. All of this made me think about Christmas because, just like those dads, what that grandfather did for his grandchild is very much like what God does, in Jesus, for the sake of the world.
…not just learn to put on make-up, of course. Or dress up in different clothes.
But he goes out of his way to try to see and to learn and to understand and to embody what would matter so much for this child that he loves.
… to become like him, enough, to understand how to help, encourage, love and reveal the fullness of his humanity to others – and to himself.
… to show him, with tangible actions and visible means of grace, what love looks like, in the flesh, with no strings attached…
... to became like him, enough, just to show him the ropes…
… to risk becoming vulnerable himself, so that the child could be brave and vulnerable, too.
Again, for my money, all of that is exactly what God does, in Jesus, for all of us, at Christmas.
Max Lucado, describes the incarnation of Jesus in a way I’ve always liked. He says that “the One who played marbles with the stars gave it up to play marbles with marbles. … the One who hung the galaxies gave it up to hang doorjambs ...”
He says that God “went from needing nothing to needing air, food, a tub of hot water, and salts for his tired feet…
“…that he resisted the urge to fry the two-bit, self-appointed hall monitors of holiness who dared suggest that he was doing the work of the devil.
“…that he refused to defend himself when blamed for every sin of every slut and sailor since Adam…
“…that he stood silent as a million guilty verdicts echoed in the tribunal of heaven…”
God did all of that for me… for you… for the sake of the whole wide world that God loves.
Nadia Bolz-Weber describes the incarnation of Christ – the coming of God in Jesus – by saying that God’s “loving desire to be known overflowed the heavens and became manifest in the rapidly dividing cells inside the womb of an insignificant peasant girl in First Century Palestine. This is a God who slipped into skin and walked among us full of grace and truth with sand between his toes; and who ate with all the wrong people; and who kissed lepers and touched the unclean and spoke through thirsty women and hungry men and who, from the cross, didn’t lift a finger to condemn the enemy, but instead said ‘I would rather die than be in the sin-accounting business anymore.’”
God did all of that for me… for you… and for the sake of the world.
Yours Truly likes to think that, in the birth of Jesus, God chooses to own all of our brokenness, all of our flaws, all of our weakness. All of our sins and sickness … the things that embarrass or scare or shame us the most … God gathers it all together in the simple shape and form of a person just like you and me … someone we could look at and see; someone we could listen to and laugh with; someone whose hand we could shake and whose shoulder we could cry on…
And in Jesus, then, God shows us how to walk around in our own flawed but forgiven skin; in our own weak but redeemable flesh; in our own sick and dying but healing and heaven-bound souls.
And, in Jesus – the Word made flesh – we’re invited to see, too, that what the world calls “flawed’ may not be; what the world deems “weak” may be exactly the opposite; what the world sees as “broken” may be just precisely as God designed it to be.
And, in Jesus, God teaches us to be humble because of that; and vulnerable and brave; and full of faith and hope and love enough so that we might embody some measure of this grace and good news for someone else who needs it, too.
Maybe that means getting a tattoo or dancing on stage or putting on make-up. Who knows?
Maybe it means being generous; or confessing our sins; asking for forgiveness; or extending mercy to someone who could use it, just as much.
Maybe it means making peace with our enemy or loving our neighbor as our self.
Maybe it means simply recognizing the blessed and beloved humanity in someone because they are God’s child … and so are we … and giving thanks that Christ the Savior is born to prove that for us all.
Amen. Merry Christmas.
