Christmas Day C
In the name of Christ. Amen.
A few days ago I saw this picture
floating around online. It was an
adorable attempt at a family photo for the holidays. There were three children – the oldest
appeared to be about two or three – and all three of them were wailing. It was one of those images that so clearly
captured the moment, that on seeing it, you’d be hard-pressed not to hear their
screams. But what made the photo iconic,
was that each of these screaming children were holding a large, wooden
letter. And those letters were J -
O - Y.
Joy. Held up by miserable
children.
I think we’ve all had at least one
of those holidays, at one time or another.
Either as the miserable child being made to proclaim joy, or as the
parent striving for some impossible to achieve ideal, or maybe even as the
photographer – sitting back and taking it all in.
This day often brings out the
best in us, but it just as often brings out the worst in us.
And, such, I suppose, is the
nature of our life in Christ.
The beginning of the story of
Christ – at least the part of the story that covers his time here on earth – begins
pretty simply. There is certainly
fanfare and angels and lots of attention, and if you were here last night, you
heard all about that, but even there – before all the excitement, there was a
simple birth. A baby, born of a
woman. The same as millions of others
before and since.
And today, it begins with a
word. The Word. Which was with God
and was God. And that Word became flesh and lived among
us.
Whereas the Gospel of Luke
focuses on the circumstances, the Gospel of John focuses on the idea – what
does it mean to have “God with us”?
We symbolize it by exchanging
gifts, and spending time with the people that mean the most to us whenever we
can, and generally with expressions of joy, but sometimes that “joy” comes out
like those screaming babies in the picture.
Sometimes it doesn’t quite live up to all that we’d imagined.
But the thing is, that’s
okay. This faith – at least the parts of
it executed through our meager attempts – never is perfect. It always falls somehow short. But the point of faith – the point of
celebrating the joy of recognizing “God with us” in Christ – isn’t about
obtaining perfection. It’s not about the
perfect Christmas dinner, or the perfect Christmas gifts, given or received; it
isn’t about the perfect holiday portrait, or decorations, or even worship.
The point of recognizing that God
is with us in Christ, is more about the normal stuff. The everyday stuff. The baby.
The Word. Because Christ is with
us every day. We set aside some time
each year to look for Christ – to renew our looking for Christ – because it’s
easy to forget. It’s easy to get lost in
the everyday humdrum of life and to forget this magical reality that God loves
us so much, that God wants to be with us, and that God wants us to know and to
recognize that God is with us.
God is with us when we open
presents, and even when we’re
disappointed with what we find. God is
with us when we’re capturing the beauty and joy of our family, and when the babies cry instead of smile
in those pictures. God is with us when
we’re reveling in the glory of time with our families, and when we’re dreading
it, or even when we’re missing it.
God is with us when we’re at our
highest and brightest and happiest, and even when we’re not.
I love the majesty that we
celebrated here last night. I love the
candlelight and the choir and the ceremony of placing the baby in the
manger. But for me, one of the most
important parts of our celebration of Christmas happens here, this
morning. A smaller celebration that
feels a lot more “normal”. An almost
everyday celebration. Because the fact
is, that’s where we’re most often going to see Christ when we look: in the
everyday moments of life.
I hope your Christmas is filled
with joy. I hope it rises to meet all of
the dreams that led you to this morning.
But no matter what, I hope you see Christ. Somehow.
Somewhere.
Merry Christmas. Amen.
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