Bristol Lutheran
Christmas Eve
Dec 24, 2014
Luke 2:1-20
Why do we do this?
This craziness of December.
This hustle and bustle of Christmas.
Why do we stress ourselves out, decorating, gift giving, traveling, baking, or
getting dressed up for church?
Why do we wear our bodies down, just to look forward
to January when we can rest as things return to
normal?
Just in this short week, I found how easy it is to wear myself out. Fussing
with worship stuff, bulletins and slides, talking to insurance people,
attending the live nativity, playing guitar at carols and lessons, celebrating
Anya’s birthday because of course we planned to have a kid right before
Christmas, recovering from a cold, going for a run, cleaning, packing,
wrapping gifts, writing cards, going to the dentist…and then my dad calls
and reminds me I have to pick up two pies from Cracker Barrel.
Sure I love Christmas time…but I am looking forward to
8 pm tonight. Sometimes Christmas isn’t so merry.
Yet, every year we still put ourselves through this chaotic mess. We pull out
the tree and the lights and evergreens. We still visit family and open
presents. We still love to make and eat fudge and cookies. We still sing the
same old songs and watch the same movies. We still come out to worship
and celebrate.
It makes no sense. In fact, it may be a little crazy to keep
doing that same thing over and over and over again, year
after year, maybe expecting something different.
Even with worship, it’s the same story.
We believe that Jesus was born, in barn 2,000 years ago – to a young
couple, Mary and Joseph. And we know that shepherds came to see them.
There were angels announcing the good news. There was a bright star.
We already know the story. We could be doing a million other things in this
time of year…so why this?
This story easily could have been forgotten, ignored, or
lost. It could have been kept anonymous.
A homeless baby, born in crude homeless shelter, to a homeless family.
Forgettable.
A baby king, would be born in castle, with doctors and
midwifes and fine clothes and a beautiful cradle, not a feed
trough, with swaddling cloth, surrounded by livestock.
Unimportant.
A king would be welcomed by dukes and duchesses, not shepherds and
sheep.
Must be made up.
This story is not a romanticized, idealistic, fairy tale – where they all lived
happily ever after.
It is messy, uncertain, confusing, with unlikely characters.
Why would it be retold?
Improbable that this story, this event, would make any impact on the world
at all.
Improbable, maybe, but not impossible.
This story wasn’t lost.
It has been told over and over, and is still told.
Even on that night in Bethlehem, the news spread quickly. Already sent out
back of the inn, off the busy streets, out of the way, the holy family could
have been kept secret, gone unnoticed – with only the stable animals as
witnesses.
But this good news was too exciting to keep quiet, and
the angels told the lowly shepherds, of all people, that
this baby was a messiah born for all people, including
them. Unexpected messengers, unexpected recipients
of God’s, favor, and love.
And they left their sheep behind, raced to Bethlehem, blessed Mary with
their retelling of the story, praised God for the baby Jesus, and ran around
amazing others, revealing this good news to everyone.
And it hasn’t stopped.
Maybe we come out tonight because of tradition.
Maybe because Grandma and Grandpa said we had to.
Maybe we do this Christmas thing because it
makes us feel good, or it is a little break and
breath from the stress.
Or maybe we come out because the same Christmas story is different from
other stories. The story hasn’t changed, but maybe it has changed us.
A story that helps us remember that this birth, impacted a
family and a nation back then, and affects us today.
A story that was simple, yet profound, and couldn’t be kept quiet.
A story that reminds us how God comes in an ordinary way, in an ordinary
baby, which is what makes the story extraordinary. In a humble birth, to a
humble family, in humble dwellings, God came to us humble and ordinary
people.
We are not royalty. We are not presidents. We are not
superstars. And we don’t have to be in order to feel blessed
and loved by God.
The spirt filled message of Christmas is that God comes to us. God
chooses to be with us. Chooses to love us.
God spoke through radiant angels and smelly shepherds to
welcome the baby king, and bring hope and peace to a divided
world. God uses Christmas to show us the promise that no longer
are we separated by titles or positions, but all of us, farmers to
Princes, baristas to Starbucks CEO’s, the sick and the healthy,
those who worship this Christmas eve, and those who celebrate
in other ways – are all given the same love and light through this
baby. All of us. Sometimes we forget that little word, all, as it
means everyone, without exclusion.
Emperor Augustus wanted all the world to be accounted for, to be
registered, which is what led Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem. Little did he
know that in the birth of the baby Jesus, all the world would be brought
together, recognized, recorded, accounted for, all the world would hear and
be amazed that God chooses them.
And we remember that love every time we are
unified by Christ at the communion table, recognized at
the baptismal font…every Easter as we see Jesus on
the cross, and as we experience the same Christmas
miracle story, year after year.
That is why we put ourselves through the craziness of Christmas.
Because it has changed us. Because it still matters.
As improbable and messy as this story may be, Christmas doesn’t just mark
an event in history, it is an active reminder of what God accomplished in
Jesus years ago, and Christmas announces what God is doing now in an
uncertain world...
Bringing us together.
Amazing the people.
Uniting families and strangers.
Using unexpected messengers.
Forgiving me.
Blessing you.
Coming to all of us in love.
That always makes a Merry Christmas.
Thanks be to God. Amen.