If I’m not careful, I can get all bent out of shape about Christmas. Christmas Eve, more precisely. My Christmas Eve sermon, to be exact.

It is a scenario that has played out regularly over the years I’ve been a preacher; most often around the high holy days of Christmas and Easter. For what seems like hours on end, you can find me staring at that blank Word document screen (is there a more debilitating image than that vast, blank screen with taunts of the mouse cursor, as though each blink was saying, “What ya gonna say? What ya gonna say? What ya gonna say? What ya gonna say?).

In such times, if I’m not careful, I start to think that my job is to come up with something insightful, powerful, and emotional; something that will make your attendance here worthwhile; something you will remember; something that could actually make your life better.

So when I’m not staring into the abyss of the blank page on the computer screen; I’m reading the pages of scripture, contemplating what I could add to make it meaningful in your life.

Hopefully you can see how my line of reasoning is so misguided. Who am I to assume that I could contribute something to make the good news of Jesus Christ even better?

Some of you here will never preach a sermon, so you could well be asking, “What does this melodramatic public self-counseling session have to do with me?”

Well, I don’t think this is a problem reserved for preachers. I think each of us faces the temptation to add something of value to the world above what God has given us. I think we all face the temptation to say, “Yes, the story of Jesus is good, but it’s not enough; I can make it better so that it can mean something more.”

That’s where a lot of our stress around the holidays stems from…the desire to add something of value to the season – the perfect meal, the perfect gift, the perfect memory, the perfect Christmas card, and, in my case, the perfect Christmas sermon.

It’s in these periods of stress where we tend to get ideas about how to make this season better, ideas about how to make people better, and ideas about how to make the good news of Christ’s birth even better. All these ideas, in the moment, seem valuable and inspired; however, these ideas need to be exposed as misguided before we hurt anyone.

Earlier in the week I came across an article from one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, who seemed to identify a similar feeling in her life and the lives of her friends. In her typical acerbic wit, she set me straight. I’d like to share her words with you now:

“I used to hear in early sobriety that if you had an idea after 10:00 pm, it was probably a bad idea.

I think the same is true about any ideas you may have in the [days leading up to Christmas].

Everyone is very crazy. Some of us are better at covering this up than others. Some people will say how cheerful they feel and how much they love the holidays; but these are very angry people. Try not to be alone with them for any length of time.

Three people I love have called this weekend with these intensely expressed decisions that they felt had to be made as soon as possible. They are without exception highly intelligent and self-aware, really on to themselves, yet without exception, their ideas would have caused damage to their careers, marriages, children, serenity, and in one case, their dog.

I listened, and said the great chemo-therapeutic words, "Me too."

Then I made a subtle kind of hmmm sound, vaguely amused at how we comical we become under stress; delusional, and mad.

The people all grew quiet under the strain of this sound.

I told them about my own experience the day before, when I had woken up early with a number of Excellent Ideas, which had me convinced, before coffee, that I needed to break off contact with a couple of people, correct the misperceptions of another, buy a new car, and either do the Paleo diet, or go on a horrific bender at IHOP.

And--the tiny tiny tip-off that I was cuckoo in the cabeza--that they were things that all needed to be as soon as possible. Today, in fact.

But an amazing thing happened. On the way to the kitchen for coffee, I was stopped….I went back to bed. It was 6:45 a.m. I sat up, hugging my knees to my chest. Then I wrote down all my Good Ideas, of how to correct or impress or punish people, and I gave them all to God. I said, "Here. Knock Yourself out." And She did.

Next, I said three formal prayers I happen to love… I meditated… And I got so happy, because i was back. The princess was BACK, hilarious nutty sweet old me. I had found me in the maelstrom. I knew that all day I was going to do loving things, and that would help me have loving feelings.out.

I remembered an older friend who kept backing up into things, who posted a note on his dashboard that said, Slowly, and Majestically; i wrote s.a.m on my wrist. I pulled on some baggy pants, in case I accidentally ate a few more cookies than might be ideal. THEN, and only then, I got up, and went to the kitchen, where I put the coffee on, and did the sacrament of putter while it brewed.”

So I’m putting away all my Christmas ideas and relying on a single message: Jesus is born.

God could have been perfectly content not to be born into poverty, scandal, and the middle of nowhere just to grow up, change the world, and be killed for it; but God did. Eternal and abundant life is available to us here and now thanks to what began with an angel’s word of peace to a frightened young woman; thanks to what began with a journey to Bethlehem; thanks to what began with the cry of a newborn boy piercing the night air. This is the good news; and it is enough for us.

No amount of hand-wringing or shopping; no spectacular spark of creativity; nor any attempts or admonitions at self-improvement could ever add anything of value to the truth that the God who created us loves us so much that he became us in order to save us from our futile efforts of hand-wringing, shopping, creativity, and attempts at self-improvement.

Perhaps you came tonight expecting to walk away with something more than what you came with. Instead, however, I wonder what it would mean for us to hear the Christmas story as an invitation for us to be content with who we are and what we have. I wonder what it would mean for us to hear the story of the birth of Jesus and realize that Jesus was born for us.

Instead of walking away from worship tonight having received something to add to our lives; a better goal is to walk away from worship having left something behind.

My prayer and hope for all of us is that we could leave behind all our attempts at perfection, our stubborn refusals to admit the pain we have caused others, and our fear we are not enough.

The Christmas story is good news to those of us who are imperfect.

The Christmas story is good news to those of us who have hurt others.

The Christmas story is good news to those of us who live in fear.

The good news of the Christmas story is enough. So hear the story, trust the story, and live into the story.

Amen.

Philippians 2:5-11

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross. Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

I applaud you for sticking with this whole Advent Conspiracy idea. It means a lot to look out and see most of the people who started this curious journey with us two weeks ago, plus some new faces, which is an even better sign!

I applaud you because it’s not always easy to buy into a conspiracy – a movement against the cultural grain, to raise a stink, to be critical of our society’s actions and decisions, as well as those of the church.

Advent Conspiracy is a big step. It means saying “no” to the hyper-consumerism that has co-opted the celebration of the birth of the Prince of Peace. It means putting more heart and less credit into your holiday gift-giving. It means giving more to people and organizations who are making this world a more equitable place, not just financially but with time and energy as well. And it means letting the spirit of worship influence our lives and relationships.

Of course, just because you’re here doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve completely bought into the Advent Conspiracy. Most of us have probably spent a little more on gifts this year than was financially-responsible. And maybe we haven’t bothered to tally the receipts in order to calculate how much we should give to Jesus on his birthday, as Pastor Mark suggested last week. And there have been several gifts purchased without our having invested much thought or real emotional attachment into them; which in the end is understandable because you gotta do what you gotta do; and everyone knows that the line, “Well, I was holding out for the perfect gift, so I didn’t end up getting you anything,” just won’t cut it.

And so as we gather here for the last Advent midweek worship service, I am excited to announce the capstone theme of the Advent Conspiracy. It’s not another thing to keep track of or evaluate or feel bad about when we don’t do it well. Instead, it’s a purpose that should inspire all our other actions, such as spending less, giving more, and worshiping fully. Today we gather under the banner of “loving all.”

Love is a great many things; love is patient, love is kind, and above all, love is vague. Love means different things to different people. So any message focusing on the call to “love all” must be clear.

For inspiration, I turned to one of the best books ever written on the subject, C.S. Lewis’ The Four Loves.

I knew I waded into the right waters when I read this quote:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

— C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Love is vulnerability. So, then, what would it mean to conspire to be someone who is vulnerable to all?

Could that possibly be the life that God is calling us to live? A life of vulnerability? It sounds dangerous and uncertain.

What right does God have to call us to live a life of love that makes our heart vulnerable to all?

This God who revealed his divine presence to the world as a baby boy born to a poor, unmarried woman from the middle of nowhere;

This God who revealed his divine presence as a young man who shunned worldly pursuits of power in favor of reaching out to the outcast and downtrodden;

This God who revealed his divine presence to the world as a young man tortured by the state and executed for crimes against religion;

This God who took the form of a slave, humbled himself, and became obedient to the point of death;

What right does this God have to ask us to live vulnerably?

It would be convenient if just once we could come to worship here and walk away with the understanding that God did all that so that we don’t have to.

That’s a message being preached at many other churches; but not here. No, here we take God’s call upon our lives seriously, acknowledging that we are being invited into a life that is greater than the sum of our individual talents, accomplishments, bank accounts, or proximity to perfection. Here, we are called to love all, to be vulnerable to all.

Still to vague? Let’s narrow it down, then.

Forget about loving all and being vulnerable to all. That’s too much to take in for one night. Instead, let’s focus on one person. First, think about what it would mean to love (and be vulnerable to) yourself.

Do you love who you are? Cut through the noise of all your dreams, memories, failures, relationships; your career, your family, your church. It’s a difficult concept, I know; but just think about who you are as a child of God, look at yourself in a mirror, and let the words sink in: God loves you; you matter to God; and you are a gift to God and the world.

I doubt any of us are ready to let that idea sink in all the way. We have convinced ourselves, or likely been convinced by others, that we are unlovable. We have messed up too much. We have been hurt too deeply. We haven’t seen proof that any of this “God loves you” stuff is true.

But chances are that since you are here, you’re hoping it is true. And chances are that people who are not here have no idea that it even could be true. And just think, what could be more vulnerable for us than to be the ones who go out into the world and insist it is true?

The people who truly understand what it means to be loved by God are those who spend little to no energy in trying to get other people to love them. They can’t be bothered; they’re too busy loving and being vulnerable to others. They have nothing to lose because they know they are loved by a God who lost everything and still triumphed over death.

I hope and pray that in the midst of all the busyness, cookie baking, obnoxious commercials, football games, shopping, entertaining, and inflatable santas, that you will carve out time to get to know yourself and to love yourself.

Try reading scripture, serving others, spending time in complete silence with only the deepest sense of your self for company, or any other spiritual practice that you find helpful.

For only when we recognize God’s love for us could we ever conspire to spend less, give more, worship fully, love all, and honor the birth, life, death, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Amen.

"No Addition Necessary" – Luke 2:1-20

"Love All" – Philippians 2:5-11