| This Will Be A Sign To You |
"This Will Be a Sign To You."
Luke 2:1-20
December 24, 2007
5:30 p.m. & 11:00 p.m.
Christmas is a time of story-telling. Even people who normally dislike
telling or listening to stories at all, will sit down… with their arms clasped
around their knees and either tell or listen to a story of a Christmas
miracle. Sometimes the stories are shared by reading from a book,
sometimes by speaking from a memory, or sometimes by watching.
How many of us have made sure that we see at least one of a variety of
movies during the Christmas season? The titles are well known: White
Christmas, It's a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Carol, Miracle on 34th
Street and so many others. The stories and images shared at Christmas
evoke special feelings and memories for many.
Stories, in fact, are essential to our existence. They provide a centering,
a place of refuge, a way to identify who we are and whose we are.
Without the stories that rehearse where we have been there are often no
stories of where we are going. In other words, when we can't celebrate
the stories of our past, we often feel lost in the present and lose hope for
the future.
Allow me to share a transformational moment with you. Allow me to tell
you a story:
One Christmas time many years ago when the boys were much
smaller and an empty-nest was still only something Sue and I
experienced in a freshly-cut tree I was sitting in front of the fireplace.
As the falling snow outside gathered momentum, I began reflecting upon
the season and all the meaning that it held for myself and my family.
Gazing at the tree, which we had so carefully picked out of the family
forest as our personal best for the year, I became swept up in a blizzard
of memories.
Before me, hanging somewhat precariously upon the branches of the
aromatic pine, were the ornaments that formed a chronological time-line
of our then relatively brief existence together as a family. Some were
purchased by others and given as love offerings some were precious
handmade gifts that expressed an emotional involvement by others in
our livesand, some, we had made ourselves during moments of
television–free creativity. Each piece of glitter… each stitch… each
drop of glue creating a story, speaking of moments ripe with
expectations, hopes, and yes even a few heartaches.
Teetering on the branches was a plethora of ornaments. There were
those that Sue and I had stitched together during our first years of
marriage. We had stuffed them to give them the look of tiny pillows
formed in the shape of Santa and snow-people. There were small
ornaments with pictures of the kids inside, each year a new creation
from school showing us the same, yet different child – transforming
before our eyes. The angel on top, given to us by a dear friend many
seasons prior, now looked ragged and stained, the survivor of a flooded
basement.
Each delight… each memory nestled in the needles, could be traced to
a specific time in our journey as a family.
Around the room, there were other symbols of times past. Like the
stockings that had needlepoint bears on them - bears that I had labored
over for what seemed the better part of a year. I had tried to make
delicate maneuvers with the needle. Yet, having only clumsy, vice-grip
hands with which to accomplish the surgery, I soon gave up on any
pretext of daintiness.
It was a few years later that we added names to those stockings. This
time it was Sue's expertise that stitched on the unique names - Mom
and Dad - a direct response to our first child: it was to be Jesse's first
Christmas.
From there, my eyes and mind both fixated on the crèche that had been
placed under the tree. You know the nativity scene I'm talking about:
Hand-sculpted by a famous Italian in the time honored tradition called:
plastic injection molding
The figures had been lovingly arranged under the tree by our youngest
son, Keegan, and were soon disarranged by our cats, causing general
chaos to that pastoral scene - angels hanging upside down, a wise man
resting his head on a lamb, a cow trying to climb a ladder to the loft, and
Mary looking askance at the empty, overturned manger.
The manger was empty not because we have a tradition of placing the
baby Jesus there, with great ritual, on Christmas Eve but empty
because some years before one of our cats needed it for their own
nativity scene. The location of which is still unknown.
Amongst this flood of visual images it was our nativity scene that really
grabbed my attention. It seemed to be a reflection of my past that was
perhaps more revealing than even the different memories triggered by
the various ornaments. It seemed symbolic of those times in my life
when chaos ran amuck and I hadn't a clue on how to keep from
collapsing in frustration. Symbolic, because those times of chaos were,
and continue to be, the same times when I seem to have misplaced
Jesus and stand rather forlornly looking at the empty spot in my life.
Symbolic because those are the times when God seems furthest away,
most unapproachable.
My guess is when the shepherds were out with their flock wondering
at the immensity of creation they felt that God was unapproachable.
One can feel rather insignificant gazing up at the stars, particularly if you
are alone. One can also feel rather distant from God separated, by
what can seem an insurmountable chaos of stars, if all that has been
experienced of God is a judgmental manipulator of the cosmos, sitting
high above the stratosphere. Out of reach and out of touch.
The story Luke was relating, speaks of a time when the chaos in the
lives of the people, who lived prior to the birth of Jesus, had become
overwhelming and the separation between God and God's children had
become unbearable.
The night sky for those shepherds possibly seemed larger and more of
a barrier to God than ever before. The world seemed like it was about to
be swallowed up by the chaos. But, of course, that feeling was not a new
feeling.
The Bible is filled with story after story of people giving into the chaos
and becoming separated from a healthy relationship with God. It is also
full of stories that very clearly say many people remained in a state of
separation. For them, God seemed just too far away from their reality to
be believable.
If that is all the Story was about then it would indeed be a hopeless
situation. But we know that there is much more. The Bible is also filled
with story after story of God reaching out trying to bridge that
sometimes immense chasm reaching out to bring significance to
those who have felt lost
"This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and
lying in a manger." It was as if God was saying, "Enough! All of the
prophets and the angels and the interventions in your lives still haven't
conveyed with full force the message of my love for you. The gap
remains between us, so I will bridge that gap in a way that is as real as
possible. I will send my son as a sign to you. My flesh will become like
your flesh. I will experience the joys and the pains that you experience. I
will know life as you know it. And ultimately, know death as intimately as
you know it. I will take you by the hand and show you the way out of the
chaos into my Presence."
J. Robert Oppenheimer, the theoretical physicist who was director of the
laboratory in Los Alamos, New Mexico that developed the atomic bomb,
said, "The best way to send an idea is to wrap it up in a person." The
theological word for all of that is incarnation, meaning "in the flesh."
Jesus was the incarnation of God. God in the flesh. Jesus was the way
that God sent his "idea" to humanity. The birth of the Christ-child was
God breaking through the barrier of expanded chaos to touch those
shepherds, and us, in a way that would leave no more room for
separation.
Have you known times of chaos? Times when a relationship ended in
the midst of pain, times when you questioned your own worth or the
worth of the job you are in? Has the chaos taken the form of neglecting
the family or feeling neglected yourself? It might even be that you have
been abused or in some way been the abuser and you wonder… you
wonder if the chaos will ever end.
Of course, we try to always make sure the nativity scene of our lives is
picture perfect, but there are those moments when we seem to lose
track of Jesus the one we call the Messiah . There are those moments
when the Presence of God seems to be misplaced.
The Good News is that God continues to reach out to us through Jesus
Christ to help us comprehend the significance of our lives - whether we
alone, or in the midst of the clamor of thousands.
Albert Edward Day, author of The Captivating Presence, has this insight
to share:
"God is present in reality no matter what unreality our practices and our
ponderings imply. God is forever trying to establish communication;
forever aware of the wrong directions we are taking and wishing to warn
us; forever offering solutions for the problems that baffle us; forever
standing at the door of our loneliness, eager to bring us comradeship as
the most intelligent mortal could not supply; forever clinging to our
indifference in the hope that someday our needs, our at least our
tragedies will waken us to respond to God's advances. The real
Presence is just that, real and life-transforming. Nor are the conditions
for the manifestation of his splendors out of the reach of any of us!"
My wish for you this Christmas is simply this: that Jesus… the one we
call The Savior… can be found in the midst of your lives. My prayer is
that the very real Presence of God be yours. "And this will be a sign to
you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
AMEN
Luke 2:1-20
December 24, 2007
5:30 p.m. & 11:00 p.m.
Christmas is a time of story-telling. Even people who normally dislike
telling or listening to stories at all, will sit down… with their arms clasped
around their knees and either tell or listen to a story of a Christmas
miracle. Sometimes the stories are shared by reading from a book,
sometimes by speaking from a memory, or sometimes by watching.
How many of us have made sure that we see at least one of a variety of
movies during the Christmas season? The titles are well known: White
Christmas, It's a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Carol, Miracle on 34th
Street and so many others. The stories and images shared at Christmas
evoke special feelings and memories for many.
Stories, in fact, are essential to our existence. They provide a centering,
a place of refuge, a way to identify who we are and whose we are.
Without the stories that rehearse where we have been there are often no
stories of where we are going. In other words, when we can't celebrate
the stories of our past, we often feel lost in the present and lose hope for
the future.
Allow me to share a transformational moment with you. Allow me to tell
you a story:
One Christmas time many years ago when the boys were much
smaller and an empty-nest was still only something Sue and I
experienced in a freshly-cut tree I was sitting in front of the fireplace.
As the falling snow outside gathered momentum, I began reflecting upon
the season and all the meaning that it held for myself and my family.
Gazing at the tree, which we had so carefully picked out of the family
forest as our personal best for the year, I became swept up in a blizzard
of memories.
Before me, hanging somewhat precariously upon the branches of the
aromatic pine, were the ornaments that formed a chronological time-line
of our then relatively brief existence together as a family. Some were
purchased by others and given as love offerings some were precious
handmade gifts that expressed an emotional involvement by others in
our livesand, some, we had made ourselves during moments of
television–free creativity. Each piece of glitter… each stitch… each
drop of glue creating a story, speaking of moments ripe with
expectations, hopes, and yes even a few heartaches.
Teetering on the branches was a plethora of ornaments. There were
those that Sue and I had stitched together during our first years of
marriage. We had stuffed them to give them the look of tiny pillows
formed in the shape of Santa and snow-people. There were small
ornaments with pictures of the kids inside, each year a new creation
from school showing us the same, yet different child – transforming
before our eyes. The angel on top, given to us by a dear friend many
seasons prior, now looked ragged and stained, the survivor of a flooded
basement.
Each delight… each memory nestled in the needles, could be traced to
a specific time in our journey as a family.
Around the room, there were other symbols of times past. Like the
stockings that had needlepoint bears on them - bears that I had labored
over for what seemed the better part of a year. I had tried to make
delicate maneuvers with the needle. Yet, having only clumsy, vice-grip
hands with which to accomplish the surgery, I soon gave up on any
pretext of daintiness.
It was a few years later that we added names to those stockings. This
time it was Sue's expertise that stitched on the unique names - Mom
and Dad - a direct response to our first child: it was to be Jesse's first
Christmas.
From there, my eyes and mind both fixated on the crèche that had been
placed under the tree. You know the nativity scene I'm talking about:
Hand-sculpted by a famous Italian in the time honored tradition called:
plastic injection molding
The figures had been lovingly arranged under the tree by our youngest
son, Keegan, and were soon disarranged by our cats, causing general
chaos to that pastoral scene - angels hanging upside down, a wise man
resting his head on a lamb, a cow trying to climb a ladder to the loft, and
Mary looking askance at the empty, overturned manger.
The manger was empty not because we have a tradition of placing the
baby Jesus there, with great ritual, on Christmas Eve but empty
because some years before one of our cats needed it for their own
nativity scene. The location of which is still unknown.
Amongst this flood of visual images it was our nativity scene that really
grabbed my attention. It seemed to be a reflection of my past that was
perhaps more revealing than even the different memories triggered by
the various ornaments. It seemed symbolic of those times in my life
when chaos ran amuck and I hadn't a clue on how to keep from
collapsing in frustration. Symbolic, because those times of chaos were,
and continue to be, the same times when I seem to have misplaced
Jesus and stand rather forlornly looking at the empty spot in my life.
Symbolic because those are the times when God seems furthest away,
most unapproachable.
My guess is when the shepherds were out with their flock wondering
at the immensity of creation they felt that God was unapproachable.
One can feel rather insignificant gazing up at the stars, particularly if you
are alone. One can also feel rather distant from God separated, by
what can seem an insurmountable chaos of stars, if all that has been
experienced of God is a judgmental manipulator of the cosmos, sitting
high above the stratosphere. Out of reach and out of touch.
The story Luke was relating, speaks of a time when the chaos in the
lives of the people, who lived prior to the birth of Jesus, had become
overwhelming and the separation between God and God's children had
become unbearable.
The night sky for those shepherds possibly seemed larger and more of
a barrier to God than ever before. The world seemed like it was about to
be swallowed up by the chaos. But, of course, that feeling was not a new
feeling.
The Bible is filled with story after story of people giving into the chaos
and becoming separated from a healthy relationship with God. It is also
full of stories that very clearly say many people remained in a state of
separation. For them, God seemed just too far away from their reality to
be believable.
If that is all the Story was about then it would indeed be a hopeless
situation. But we know that there is much more. The Bible is also filled
with story after story of God reaching out trying to bridge that
sometimes immense chasm reaching out to bring significance to
those who have felt lost
"This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and
lying in a manger." It was as if God was saying, "Enough! All of the
prophets and the angels and the interventions in your lives still haven't
conveyed with full force the message of my love for you. The gap
remains between us, so I will bridge that gap in a way that is as real as
possible. I will send my son as a sign to you. My flesh will become like
your flesh. I will experience the joys and the pains that you experience. I
will know life as you know it. And ultimately, know death as intimately as
you know it. I will take you by the hand and show you the way out of the
chaos into my Presence."
J. Robert Oppenheimer, the theoretical physicist who was director of the
laboratory in Los Alamos, New Mexico that developed the atomic bomb,
said, "The best way to send an idea is to wrap it up in a person." The
theological word for all of that is incarnation, meaning "in the flesh."
Jesus was the incarnation of God. God in the flesh. Jesus was the way
that God sent his "idea" to humanity. The birth of the Christ-child was
God breaking through the barrier of expanded chaos to touch those
shepherds, and us, in a way that would leave no more room for
separation.
Have you known times of chaos? Times when a relationship ended in
the midst of pain, times when you questioned your own worth or the
worth of the job you are in? Has the chaos taken the form of neglecting
the family or feeling neglected yourself? It might even be that you have
been abused or in some way been the abuser and you wonder… you
wonder if the chaos will ever end.
Of course, we try to always make sure the nativity scene of our lives is
picture perfect, but there are those moments when we seem to lose
track of Jesus the one we call the Messiah . There are those moments
when the Presence of God seems to be misplaced.
The Good News is that God continues to reach out to us through Jesus
Christ to help us comprehend the significance of our lives - whether we
alone, or in the midst of the clamor of thousands.
Albert Edward Day, author of The Captivating Presence, has this insight
to share:
"God is present in reality no matter what unreality our practices and our
ponderings imply. God is forever trying to establish communication;
forever aware of the wrong directions we are taking and wishing to warn
us; forever offering solutions for the problems that baffle us; forever
standing at the door of our loneliness, eager to bring us comradeship as
the most intelligent mortal could not supply; forever clinging to our
indifference in the hope that someday our needs, our at least our
tragedies will waken us to respond to God's advances. The real
Presence is just that, real and life-transforming. Nor are the conditions
for the manifestation of his splendors out of the reach of any of us!"
My wish for you this Christmas is simply this: that Jesus… the one we
call The Savior… can be found in the midst of your lives. My prayer is
that the very real Presence of God be yours. "And this will be a sign to
you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
AMEN
DeWitt United Methodist Church
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