SUNDAY SERMON
SOMEONE'S AT THE DOOR
A Homily for Christmas Day
December 25, 2003
Gospel: Luke
2:1-14(15-20)
Merry Christmas! It's a day to break forth together into singing, especially those familiar carols we know and love. It's a day for rejoicing, a day of birth and new life, a day of comfort and joy. For God has sent us a Comforter and Redeemer, as the prophet Isaiah put it, and all the ends of the earth sees this Savior named Jesus.
Of all the names we have for Jesus, it is the name Emmanuel, God with us, that I want to say a few words about this afternoon. It's a name we sing at Christmastime. Emmanuel, God with us, also describes the last verse of the scripture we just heard.
In that prologue to Saint John's version of the gospel, the Word, John says, has existed from the beginning of time. The Word transcends all creation. And the Word brings light and power to all who believe.
But what is this Word? Actually, it's not a "what," but a "who." The Word became flesh, John says, and lived among us. Or, as one modern translation puts it, "the Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood."
Eugene Peterson, longtime pastor and author, translated that passage and all of scripture into a provocative, twenty-first century version of the Bible. He calls it The Message. And Peterson has this to say about living the spiritual life in our day:
"Two things that are basic to the Christian life are unfortunately counter to most things American. First, Christian spirituality," he says, "…is not about us. It is about God….The more there is of us, the less there is of God."
"Sooner or later," he explains, "we get invited or commanded (by God) to do something. But in that doing, we never become the subject of the Christian life nor do we perform the action of the Christian life." Now, if we were in an English class, I guess we could put it this way: we are neither the subject nor the verb of Christianity.
Rather, says Peterson, "we are the tag-end of a prepositional phrase." Like: "God for us" (Romans 8:31). "Christ in me" (Galatians 2:20). "God with us" (Matthew 1:23).
He calls it "prepositional participation." What's most important, he argues, are "the ways and means of being in on and participating in what God is doing" (all quoted from "Transparent Lives" in Christian Century, 11/29/03). It's God, the prime mover.
Another way to say this is: God first, last and always loves us. God is the subject AND the verb. We are the objects, the receivers of God's love. God invites, even commands us to receive that love, then to share it with others. Yes, it is God's love we are to share, even the love we see in Jesus. Yet, the love of Jesus is often not what we want or expect it to be.
Perhaps an illustration will help. Let's say you wake up one Christmas morning to the ring of your doorbell. When you answer it, you find a rather large basket on your doorstep, covered with a blanket.
A note on the basket says, "Merry Christmas! I am new in Memphis and have moved into your neighborhood. Please accept this gift as a token of my love for you." Surprised, a bit miffed ("who IS this stranger, thinking he or she can love me without even knowing who I am?"), you lift the heavy basket, fold back the blanket and find a baby, sleeping soundly.
"WHAT?! Who would do this?" Then, since it is Christmas, you begin to wonder if this might be a "God thing." You think, "What did I do to deserve this? My children are grown and flown. I've already DONE dirty diapers!"
Yet it is not just the diapers and the feedings you have to worry about. It's not just about receiving the unconditional love of a precious child. It's the fact that, eventually this sweet, little baby will grow up. You realize that you will have to love this child, no matter what, because, when she was a baby, she showed you how to love.
Years pass. Another Christmas Day comes, and the doorbell rings. You answer it to find this little baby, who is now eighteen, standing there. While at college, another tattoo and piercing have been added to her body. Still, she has a sweet look on her face.
"Merry Christmas, daddy." She manages a smile and shows you what she's holding in her arms. It's her own little baby. You don't know whether to laugh or to cry, to slam the door…or to open your arms and hold on as tight as you can to both of them.
What would happen today if you and I let Jesus move into our neighborhood, into our homes, into our lives? And then, what would happen if we let Jesus move into our hearts? What if we let God change our lives with Jesus' love, inside out, outside in?
It is not always easy to embrace the concept of "God for us" or "Christ in me" or "God with us"…and like it. It is not always easy to be the tag-end of a prepositional phrase. It is not always easy to be the object, the receiver of love.
No, much of the time, we'd rather pretend that we, not God, are in charge of our loves and our lives. Much of the time, we'd rather be the subject and the verb. Much of the time, instead of being invited or commanded, we'd rather be in control.
But today is different. Today is Christmas. Today is the day when God breaks into our prepositional lives with a proposition. "Let me move into your neighborhood," says our God. "Let me love you. Let me love you first, last and always. Let me love you with the love of Jesus, a love that is full of grace and truth, a love full of challenge and support, a love full of comfort and joy. Just let me be who I am: Emmanuel, God with you. Then you can more fully become who you are: my beloved child, the one who moves into new neighborhoods and teaches others how to love."