Christmas Day

A wife gave her husband two neckties for Christmas. He, being an obedient and peace-loving man, immediately went and put on one of the ties. He returned to the kitchen where his wife was preparing breakfast. Seeing he had one of the ties on she asked: “What’s the matter, honey, don’t you like the other tie?”

Yes, Christmas has finally arrived. What meaning does it have for our lives and for the world?

 “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the word was God… And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

Christmas had its beginning long before Joseph and Mary in a place beyond Bethlehem. The Word was “with” God, in the bosom of God. What God was, the Word was. He is not man becoming God but God Incarnate, God coming into human flesh, coming into the world from outside of it.

In other ways and in other times the eternal word came into the world, only to have the door slammed in disbelief. Now a new and marvelous move has been made. The Word has come in flesh to live among us and to make God known to us.

Soren Kierkegaard has a fable of a king who fell in love with a maid. When asked, “How shall I declare my love?” his counselors answered, “Your majesty has only to appear in all the glory of your royal raiment before the maid’s humble dwelling and she will instantly fall at your feet and be yours.”

But it was precisely that which troubled the king. He wanted her glorification, not his. In return for his love he wanted hers, freely given. Finally, the king realized love’s truth, that freedom for the beloved demanded equality with the beloved. So late one night, after all the counselors of the palace had retired, he slipped out a side door and appeared before the maid’s cottage dressed as a servant.

Clearly, the fable is a Christmas story. We are called to obey not God’s power, but God’s love. God wants not submission to his power, but our love in return for his love.

So God moved in. He pitched his fleshly tent in silence on straw, in a stable, under a star. The cry from that infant’s throat pierced the silence of centuries. God’s voice could actually be heard coming from human vocal cords.

That’s the joy of it. God has come to be with us. Nothing in this world can separate any of his children from his love. Not even our prodigal rebellions, nor our adult indifferences; not our sins nor our sufferings. No experience goes unattended by God. Cradles of insecurity — he is there; deserts of temptation — he is there; gardens of indecision — he is there; crosses of suffering — he is there. He is in them all. This is the God of Christmas!

“And the Word became flesh and lived among us, full of grace and truth.” That’s the word I most need to hear today. Grace! God touching the brokenness of my life, giving strength and encouragement when I need it the most. God giving to me that which I need and taking from me all of those things I don’t need.

Christmas is a surprising time, isn’t it? It’s a time when we feel more charitable, more decent, more loving. Christmas at its best is a reflection of the love of God.

The Word took on human flesh. The very Word of God, born in a manger in Bethlehem, would grow into a man who would reveal in himself the very character of God. The very thought is beyond our comprehension.

Two missionaries were held for ransom by bandits in the hills of Colombia. They were kept captive in a squalid hut. Kept under armed guard, they were forbidden to speak to one another. Yet on Christmas Day, one missionary intently worked with pieces of hay that were there on the hard clay floor. When he had finished, he stepped back and showed the other missionary his finished product. In the dim light of the hut, the other missionary smiled broadly as there in the straw, arranged on the floor, was a single word, “Immanuel.” Which means, of course, “God with us.” What great news that is. We are not alone. We do not live in a cold, impersonal universe. God has been and is among us. God understands our situation. We live on a God-visited planet.

On this morning you and I have chosen to take time to rediscover the meaning of Jesus’ coming. We look beyond the shepherds and the stable and the angels and the magi and even Mary and Joseph, and focus on the baby Jesus. What does it mean that God has become one of us? What does it mean that the Word has become flesh?

John tells us that light has come into a world of darkness. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it . . .” We all know what it is to stumble in the dark, without benefit of light.

The German writer and statesman, Johann Wolfgang Goethe, was perhaps the last of the so-called universal human beings. That is, he was one of the last persons of western civilization to have gained the mastery of every academic discipline. In his long life, Goethe became renowned as a poet, as an artist, as a musician, as a playwright and as a historian. There was hardly a single facet of human knowledge of which he did not have a tremendous grasp. As he lay dying in 1832, the story is that he suddenly sat up, bolted upright in bed, and cried out with great poignancy, “Light, light, more light.”

Isn’t that essentially the cry of us all? “Light, light, more light.” There is so little that any of us, including Goethe, really understand about life. Apart from Christ, this is a dark world. Thank God that in this dark world a light shines. But it is not more knowledge that the world needs. It is a person. A light shines in the darkness. The Word becomes flesh. A babe is born in Bethlehem. He is our light. He is our hope. He is our peace.

Oswald Chambers wrote: “There is only one relationship that matters, and that is your personal relationship to a personal Redeemer and Lord. Let everything else go, but maintain that at all costs, and God will fulfill His purpose through your life.”

Remember: God came down to earth at Christmas looking like us so that we might be lifted up and look more like Him.  Have a blessed and joyous Christmas.