The Face of God

John 1:1-14 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

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In the Old Testament stories of the fathers of our faith – Abraham, Jacob, Moses – they speak of seeing the face of God.  There is the longing to see, the hope of seeing, and yet, for most, the impossibility of seeing God face to face.  We, too, might know this yearning, this desire to see God and feel God’s presence more fully.  Because there is something in us that senses this: in our nearness to God we may know life in its fullness.

It is a great mystery, one that we find ourselves drawn to again and again. 

It is this mystery that showed itself to Mary and Joseph, each one of them visited by an angel.  In these visions, or dreams, they learned that they would become parents together of a very special son – one who would bring salvation to the world. 

It is this mystery that showed itself to the shepherds in the fields.  I don’t know if these men had ever been visited by divine messengers before, but they clearly were that night and they knew it.  Believing what the angel told them they made haste to Bethlehem, to see “this thing that has taken place.”  And all were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 

It is this mystery that showed itself to three wise men in the east – far away from where this event took place.  When they saw the star, they knew that a new king had been born – one worth traveling many miles to foreign lands so they might bow before him in his cradle.

Herod could not see the mystery, for he was a man filled with fear.  Fear is the great enemy of faith.

But for those with eyes to see and ears to hear, the mystery of incarnation – God in the flesh – was revealed.  On this night, it was possible to see the face of God.

With the birth of the Christ child, it became possible to see and hear and touch love.  It became possible to know what it is to be fully human, as God originally intended us to be, and still yearns for us to be.  In Christ, we may see the perfect connection of our humanity and our creator.  How strange it is that it took the form of a small, weak, vulnerable infant.

All the kings the world has ever known have ruled with the power of armies – the power to take away life.  All these kings have ruled by intimidation, by threat of violence of one form or another.  Yet this king rules not by taking away life but by giving life.  This king rules not by threat but by love.  Who could ever imagine such a thing?  It is, indeed, a mystery.

Forever, since that night when Mary gave birth to a baby boy and laid him in a manger, the world has struggled to comprehend this mystery.  How can we understand power in weakness?  How can we seek salvation in such vulnerability?  And how can we continue to see the face of God, the face of Christ, to lead us in his way?

Tolstoy tells a story about an old man named Martin –a cobbler who lived alone in a little room where he repaired shoes for all the local townspeople. He had long outlived his wife and all his children, and he was a lonely man.  He felt that there was nothing left for him in life, and he wished for only one thing:  to see the face of Christ.  One night a voice came to him and said, “Martin, look out on the street for me tomorrow, for I shall come to you.”

The next morning, Martin thought, “today is the day.”  He sat at his bench, positioned so he could see clearly out the window while he worked.  He watched as the feet of many people passed by.  He saw an old man sweeping the streets stop; looking tired, he huddled against the wall, trying to warm himself. Martin invited him in for tea.  Soon the old man was warmed by three cups of tea and lively conversation. He went back out to finish his work, and Martin continued his watching, wondering when Christ would show himself. 

He saw a young mother, ill-clothed for the weather, looking too thin, too tired, trying to sooth the baby in her arms.  He asked her to come in, and fed her soup and bread.  Afterward he sent her back out with warmer clothes for herself and the baby.  He went back to his workbench and watched, waiting for Christ to show himself. 

Later in the day, he saw a tired old woman dragging a basket of apples.  It was late in the day and she had sold most of them.  Just then a boy ran up and tried to take the remaining apples from her basket. She began beating him off, and all the frustration and fear and fatigue in her went into hitting that boy.  Martin put down his work and quickly rushed out in the street.  He stepped between them and offered words of forgiveness and repentance.  He helped make peace between the woman and the boy. 

Martin went back inside.  It was getting late in the day, darkness was coming.  The lamplighters began lighting the streetlamps.  This day was coming to an end, but Martin no longer wondered when Christ would show himself, for he realized Christ had visited him three times that day. 

Christ comes to us in weakness so we may respond in kindness, generosity, and love.  He comes to us as one of us, so we may discover our true humanity through him.

And so, my friends, on this night we remember that we have been given the gift of seeing the face of God through a small child born into the humblest of circumstances.  On this quiet night, we are shown that in Jesus we may better see the likeness of God that we bear within us. 

On this darkest of all nights, we remember the light that came into the world – the light that shines in the darkness, that will never be understood by those who reside in darkness, but neither will it be overcome by darkness.  On this night, the light was born and showed the glory of God, in grace and in truth.

May you know the light of Christ, this night and every day and night to come. 

May you walk in his light and watch for him to appear, in whomever or whatever he chooses to show himself. 

May you greet him in peace, with kindness and love. 

And may you then see the face of God in all God’s grace and truth.