Love Came Down

John 1:1-14

Annie Dillard wrote a lovely little essay about a childhood remembrance, called God in the Doorway. One Christmas Eve, in her fancy dress, having returned home from a festive dinner with her family she sat near the fire for the warmth, and she became aware of a sudden commotion; the front door opened and there stood Santa Claus in the doorway, big as life, ringing a loud bell and shouting “Merry Christmas!” And Annie was terrified. She ran upstairs and refused to come down, no matter how much her mother coaxed and cajoled her; she wanted this so much for Annie. But Annie wanted none of it. For Annie, seeing Santa there in the doorway was like meeting God, and at this stage in her little life, she was in no hurry to meet God.

It is easy for children to confuse God and Santa Claus. I remember my oldest child, on her fifth Christmas, opening her gifts with excitement and looking up to heaven, saying, “Thanks, Santa! I mean, thank you, God! I mean…” Her grandmother laughed and said, “They often seem like one and the same, don’t they?” The one who comes down at Christmas, enters our homes and our hearts, bringing us gifts.

Love comes down at Christmas. This is the text of a beautiful hymn by Christina Rossetti:

Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love divine;
Love was born at Christmas;
Star and angels gave the sign.

Love came down at Christmas in a very special way, when God sent God’s own Son, the true light, Word made flesh. God took on the form of humankind, flesh and bone and blood, became one of us, to be with us; we who are made in God’s own image now brothers and sisters to God’s own Son.

Love came down at Christmas – but people were afraid, just as Annie was afraid of Santa standing in the doorway of her house. When love came down that first Christmas, angels appeared out of nowhere, the glory of the Lord shone all around and the heavenly host sang praises to God. All of this signaling that something well out of the ordinary was up. And the shepherds watching their flocks that night were terrified. Terrified.

And having never been exposed to such a thing, the skies opening up to reveal the heavenly host in all their glory, who am I to judge them for being afraid?

On this night, a night of darkness into which we bring the light of our candles, we remember the night that love came into the world as God stood in the doorway.

Out of love for this world and all who live in it, God came to us as one of us. In the words of Annie Dillard, God stood in the doorway between two worlds.

God brought all that is good of God’s holy realm, stood in the doorway, and offered it all to us: joy, peace, hope, and love. All this was offered to us, freely, a gift. Would we take it?

Would we accept, embrace, this gift from God?

Into this world where, even now, wars continue. On this night, as on every night, there are places where love and hope, peace and joy are scarce. There are places where these gifts of God have been rejected, or simply can’t be found amidst the misery that lives there.

Even on this night we might ask: is there light and love enough for all of us?

Of course, we can turn our eyes away from the scarcity and the misery, those things we don’t care to see, those things that might make us uncomfortable. But the light that came into the world on Christmas will make it harder for us to do that.

Because the light that we know came into the world that night showed us God’s unwavering love for the least, the last, and the lost. The light that came into the world that night taught us that God’s power is made perfect in weakness, and that the first will be last and the last will be made first. The light that came into the world that night showed that those who lead in God’s way lead by serving others.

When the light came in, when the door between the worlds blew open and God stood on the threshold, it showed us the topsy-turvy way God works. And the angels said, “Do not be afraid.” Do not be afraid.

This love that is the power of God will save us after all. When we let this love in, it will fill us and move us and change us. It is, truly, a miracle. I have seen this miracle many times.

Because there is something about Christmas which inspires people to generosity. At this time of the year when we celebrate the gifts God came bearing into the world for us, we are more likely to remember those who need the most, and this is, I think, one of the greatest gifts God brings. When we open our hearts to receive the gifts God brings for us we will be filled with love. We will be filled to the brim and overflowing with God’s love. And the power of that love cannot be overstated.

In the final stanza of Christina Rossetti’s hymn, we sing:

Love shall be our token,
love be yours and love be mine;
love to God and others,
love for plea and gift and sign.

May your hearts and minds be opened tonight to the gifts of our God – hope and joy and peace and love. May love be your token, love be your sign; may love be your gift to the world.

The Impossible

Luke 1:26-38      

There is a legend that says Mary was not the first young woman to whom the angel came. But she was the first one to say yes. Madeleine L’Engle imagines the conversation, how it might have gone:

“Are you sure you mean – but I’m unworthy – I couldn’t, anyhow – I’d be afraid. No, no, it’s inconceivable, you can’t be asking me – I know it’s a great honor but wouldn’t it upset them all, both our families? They’re very proper, you see. Do I have to answer now? I don’t want to say no – it’s what every girl hopes for, even if she won’t admit it. But I can’t commit myself to anything this important without turning it over in my mind for a while and I should ask my parents and I should ask my – let me have a few days to think it over.”

Sorrowfully, although he was not surprised to have it happen again, the angel returned to heaven.”

Last Sunday in our adult class someone voiced the question: what if Joseph had refused Mary, or Mary had refused the angel. What if God had to go out in search of someone else.

Who knows how many Mary’s there were who had to have a few days to think it over.

That’s something we will never know. What we do know is the story that is given to us in the gospels, a story we piece together from Matthew and Luke, and a little bit of John. A story that draws on the Old Testament as well, particularly the prophets of Israel. A story that has never grown old, one that has inspired generation after generation to believe in love and grace. A story that has inspired hope.

What we know from this passage of Luke are these three things:

Nothing is impossible with God. This is what the angel Gabriel said to Mary. It might have been a warning, it might have been a reassurance, or it might have been only an observation. Between Mary and Elizabeth, it certainly seemed to be true that nothing was impossible for God.

And, while we often interpret this kind of statement in the context of stories like virgin births, Noah’s flood, and other things that defy the laws of nature, it isn’t necessarily the best way to interpret it. Tales of virgin birth may or may not be factual, but there is no question in my mind that God made the impossible possible when Joseph and Mary both said yes. And that was only the beginning of impossible possibilities that we find throughout the story of Jesus of Nazareth.

God chose Mary, as well as Joseph. I imagine God looked at them and saw some good raw material there. God saw potential in these two young people, the ability to bear what would undoubtedly be a very difficult journey. There would be nothing conventional about this marriage. This family would not conform to normal, respectable expectations, and I have no doubt that they were judged for it. Unmarried and pregnant. We have names for the woman who finds herself in that situation, and we have names for the child as well. And we have names, I would add, for a man who takes this woman to be his bride.

I don’t imagine that Mary and Joseph had an easy time of it. The culture would have been all too glad to heap shame on them. I don’t know how they would have made it without the grace of God. And that is the second thing we know.

The grace of God was with them. The angel greeted Mary, calling her “favored one.” “You have found favor with God,” the angel said. “You will bear a son … he will be great, and will be called Son of the Most High … he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” God is with you, Mary.

No matter how unfavorably the world saw this young woman, she had found favor with God. No matter how difficult the world made her life from here on out, she had found favor with God. No matter how much shame or heartache she had to bear, Mary had found favor with God.

There is nothing the world can dish out that cannot be borne with God’s grace.

And by the grace of God, Mary said yes. And that is the third thing we know.

Mary said yes. More accurately, she said, “Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

And in this way, the young Mary showed uncommon grace – but Mary is not alone in this. There are more girls and boys in this world than we know who have faced their own trials and suffering with uncommon grace. There have always been and there always will be children who live in unbearable circumstances who somehow find the resources to get up every day and take a step in the right direction. There are people who face what seem like insurmountable odds, get knocked down, and manage, again and again, to right themselves.

And there are those who are angels to them: teachers and neighbors, nurses and coaches and others, who, by the grace of God, see the potential in these young people; they see the glimmer of light in them and help kindle that flame.

Somehow, in a world of brokenness, in a world where shame and hate and greed rule so much of the day, God’s grace shines through. Light finds light. Someone says yes.

Because nothing will be impossible with God. Amen.

As We Wait

John 1:6-8, 19-28

Today on this third Sunday of Advent, we await the coming of the light.

It is a dark season. This coming Thursday we will see the darkest day of the year – the day when the sun is farthest from this northern hemisphere, making our day short and our night long. It is a dark season, yet we await the coming of the light.

It is a dark season for us in many ways. Day after day, more darkness is uncovered as one more accusation is made about one more powerful man- accusations of abuse, assault, degradation of their fellow human beings. Polarization and mistrust grow stronger and we, as a nation, try to sort out what is important to us, what is of value to us, what is true to us.

It is a dark season around the world where wars continue to rage on, where children still go hungry, where whole classes of people are still systematically destroyed. In a world where powerful people misuse the power that has been given to them. Where they might lift up the lowly and meek, they would rather crush them simply because they can.

It is a dark season in which we are, strangely, quietly, waiting for the light.

Advent is a season of waiting. Yet as we read the news, look around us, and struggle through our own personal darkness we might wonder if waiting is quite enough.

Waiting for something, anything, means turning our attention toward it. It means focusing, staying awake, staying alert. As we wait for the light our attention must be heightened – heightened by hope.

“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light.” He himself was not the light, but he came to testify, to witness to the light that was to come. They came to John asking who he was, demanding that he identify himself and all he would tell them was that he was a witness, he was a voice, he was the forerunner of the one who was to come, making a way in the wilderness of this land for the light to blaze through.

And this one, John told them, is among you but you do not know him. The light of the world is in your midst, but you do not know him. I suspect this is as true today as it was at that time long ago when the camel-hair-wearing, locust-eating John said to the messengers of the Pharisees: Among you stands one whom you do not know. The light of God is in our midst yet we fail to see.

This is a dark season, and here we are, on this third Sunday of Advent, waiting for the light.

Because the darkness feels so oppressive. We find ourselves pulled down into it, buried in it sometimes. We are dealing with “the devastations of many generations,” to use Isaiah’s words. Perhaps it is because we have lived in this darkness for so long – have our eyes become unable to see light?

We await the coming of the light, the light that is with us even while we do not know it.

I have to believe that the people who ran out to the wilderness to see John were starved for light. They were desperate to have some light in their lives and, while they may not have fully understood John’s message, while they might have thought that he was, himself, the light they were seeking, while they might not even have known what they were doing, they helped to make a way for the light to come. In responding to John’s message, they became instrumental in making a way for the light to come.

With their help, John stirred things up. He attracted a lot of attention, like a neon sign on a deserted highway. He drew the people out to the river, then literally drew them out of the river of their baptism;  a sign of repentance and renewal – readiness for new life. He drew the attention of the religious authorities, letting them know that things were stirring, new light was coming. He made a way in the wilderness.

They were living in a dark season, not unlike ours, and very much in need of light.

The problem sometimes for a people who have been living in darkness is in being able to recognize the light. It is a problem sometimes for us. When people have been seduced by commercial versions of light and love, they might not recognize true light and love when they see it. When people have had their best instincts beaten out of them by powerful forces that would prefer their own version of truth, which might hold very little love, they might not recognize true light and love when they see it.

These are dark days – yet we have an advantage, my friends. We come to this place every week to light the light. We come here each week to listen to the Word and be filled with the Spirit of light and life and love. We come here every week to be equipped to testify to the light.

“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.” John’s witness lit the way for others to come, to carry the light, to carry the message of love and life. As descendants of those witnesses, we too bear witness to the light that is to come.

Let us not lose our ability to see the true light. Let us walk close to this light so we will have the power to discern lies from truth, evil from goodness. Let us carry the light of truth into the world, without fear, without rancor. As we wait for the light in this season of darkness let us remember that, of this light that is to come, we hold the embers in our hands.