December 24, 2011: Isaiah 9:2-7, Psalm 96, Titus 2:11-14, Luke 2:1-20
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, Amen.
While the night described in Luke this evening was certainly a holy night, it was hardly a silent one. We have the din of the crowds that filled the streets of Bethlehem-so many that Joseph and Mary were resigned to the barn because no rooms were available. There are the shouts and sounds from heaven as the angels burst onto the scene to proclaim the birth of the very Savior of the world. The shepherds certainly was a noisy lot that evening-not only amongst themselves at the sight they saw, but also in their telling and retelling of the event to those they met in the streets after what had been declared to them was found to be true. And add onto that the actual birth of the Baby Jesus-the crying and screaming that accompanies childbirth certainly filled not only the stable, but finally to all within earshot.
And doesn’t this still happen among us, as we meet with shouts of joy, of acclamation, of glory, praise and elation of this holy night? Are we not often as excited and wigglely as a child is on Christmas morning with a tree brimming over with gifts? And is this night, perhaps all the year, where we suddenly stop behaving like stoic Lutherans and are so unable to sustain ourselves any longer, that we actually fill our lives and our homes and our churches singing and exaltation?
So why has this evening become so associated with silence? Well we know that it isn’t because we are not excited, not overjoyed, not ecstatic over the birth of the One who, as the Apostle Paul preached in Titus, gave Himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness. Hardly. Instead, I think we so often meet this night with the silence of our hymns under the light of our candles precisely because of what this birth does mean for us. For beyond all the joy and excitement and exaltation we know we hold because of this night-in the awe of what this actually says, does and means for us, we are left utterly speechless.
For the announcements by the angels that night is nothing less that earth-shattering. To know that on this day, a Savior, Christ the Lord, was born unto us, is absolutely amazing. For we are hardly a people to be mentioned in this life, let alone for someone to be born for. With the sinful desires we hold; the acts of selfishness we commit each day; the backbiting and gossiping we partake in with and about others, would seem to be a state in which would preclude us from having anyone, let alone the Son of God, to come to and for us. With all the ways in which we fight and worry and place our faith on all that which is NOT God, it is very surprising news that God would come to save this, to save us.
Yet, that is exactly what did happen; that is exactly what God did do for you and me. That it was because of people precisely like you that a child was born, that a Son was given. For what we find with this birth is a God who does not regard sin to be unworthy to come and die for. We find that with the giving of this Child a God who believes that mankind is actually worthy to die for and so to save. We find that with coming of the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace, this is a Savior who loves people just like those lowly shepherds; people just like you.
For the miracle of Christmas is that God-my God, your God, our God-reveals His love and mercy for us in the giving of the Son to the world so to save it through His death and resurrection. That His work was for people exactly like us-that His birth in a lowly cattle stall declared that God came for those who have nothing, are nothing, know nothing within themselves. That as the shepherds once found the promised signed lying, wrapped in a manger, so they found the One who was given so to save and redeem all those who hold no hope or comfort within themselves-that this message of good news of great joy, that leads the world to receive it in majesty, awe and thanksgiving, is the most amazing news one could ever receive.
And I suppose then, that because of that, this holy night certainly does becomes a silent night. Amen.
While the night described in Luke this evening was certainly a holy night, it was hardly a silent one. We have the din of the crowds that filled the streets of Bethlehem-so many that Joseph and Mary were resigned to the barn because no rooms were available. There are the shouts and sounds from heaven as the angels burst onto the scene to proclaim the birth of the very Savior of the world. The shepherds certainly was a noisy lot that evening-not only amongst themselves at the sight they saw, but also in their telling and retelling of the event to those they met in the streets after what had been declared to them was found to be true. And add onto that the actual birth of the Baby Jesus-the crying and screaming that accompanies childbirth certainly filled not only the stable, but finally to all within earshot.
And doesn’t this still happen among us, as we meet with shouts of joy, of acclamation, of glory, praise and elation of this holy night? Are we not often as excited and wigglely as a child is on Christmas morning with a tree brimming over with gifts? And is this night, perhaps all the year, where we suddenly stop behaving like stoic Lutherans and are so unable to sustain ourselves any longer, that we actually fill our lives and our homes and our churches singing and exaltation?
So why has this evening become so associated with silence? Well we know that it isn’t because we are not excited, not overjoyed, not ecstatic over the birth of the One who, as the Apostle Paul preached in Titus, gave Himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness. Hardly. Instead, I think we so often meet this night with the silence of our hymns under the light of our candles precisely because of what this birth does mean for us. For beyond all the joy and excitement and exaltation we know we hold because of this night-in the awe of what this actually says, does and means for us, we are left utterly speechless.
For the announcements by the angels that night is nothing less that earth-shattering. To know that on this day, a Savior, Christ the Lord, was born unto us, is absolutely amazing. For we are hardly a people to be mentioned in this life, let alone for someone to be born for. With the sinful desires we hold; the acts of selfishness we commit each day; the backbiting and gossiping we partake in with and about others, would seem to be a state in which would preclude us from having anyone, let alone the Son of God, to come to and for us. With all the ways in which we fight and worry and place our faith on all that which is NOT God, it is very surprising news that God would come to save this, to save us.
Yet, that is exactly what did happen; that is exactly what God did do for you and me. That it was because of people precisely like you that a child was born, that a Son was given. For what we find with this birth is a God who does not regard sin to be unworthy to come and die for. We find that with the giving of this Child a God who believes that mankind is actually worthy to die for and so to save. We find that with coming of the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace, this is a Savior who loves people just like those lowly shepherds; people just like you.
For the miracle of Christmas is that God-my God, your God, our God-reveals His love and mercy for us in the giving of the Son to the world so to save it through His death and resurrection. That His work was for people exactly like us-that His birth in a lowly cattle stall declared that God came for those who have nothing, are nothing, know nothing within themselves. That as the shepherds once found the promised signed lying, wrapped in a manger, so they found the One who was given so to save and redeem all those who hold no hope or comfort within themselves-that this message of good news of great joy, that leads the world to receive it in majesty, awe and thanksgiving, is the most amazing news one could ever receive.
And I suppose then, that because of that, this holy night certainly does becomes a silent night. Amen.
posted by Weekly sermons at 3:47 PM
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