Those Who Dream — And here's why

A sermon for Christmas Eve

Would you pray with me?

Jesus, we are so thankful that you are with us. Surround us with your love in this moment. And may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to you, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.

Our Gospel is powerful, isn’t it?

I mean, our good news is life changing, isn’t it?

I mean, we hold on to some beautiful, powerful, amazing truth, don’t we?

I mean, we believe that God, our God, the God who calls us God’s own people, is the same God who made the stars, the Sun and the Moon, the whole Earth and everything upon it, the same God who designed electrons and positrons and gluons, the same God who cast a spiderweb of galaxies out into space and taught spiders how to weave here on earth, we believe that the God who made all of this loves us.

Not only that, but we believe that this amazing, astounding, too-big-to-comprehend, cosmic God will always love us. We believe that there is nothing in this whole universe, nothing that has gone before and nothing that lies ahead, nothing we can say or think or do, nothing that others say or think or do, nothing in all of existence can separate us from the unending love that God has for us. We believe that God is love and that love conquers all. Nothing is greater than our God who is love.

And not only that, but we believe that our God is active, right here and right now. God is on the move, staying right beside us when we need comfort or affirmation or inspiration, going to the farthest reaches of the globe to bring about miracles of healing and grace, resting in the hearts of those who have difficult decisions to make, dancing with joy among those who celebrate God’s goodness. We believe that God’s Spirit dwells within each of us, confirming us when we are walking in the way of Jesus and convicting us when we are not, strengthening us to apologize and make amends and emboldening us to step out into this world that is somehow both drenched with God’s love but unaware of it at the same time. We believe in a God who is always making all things new, never tiring, always pouring out more of God’s infinite love on us and on others, so that we might be a part of God’s great loving story.

Our Gospel is amazing, isn’t it?

What strikes me about the Christmas story is that this amazing, life-changing, world-shaking Gospel is also messy, just like us. We humans are beautiful, complicated, astounding, messy creatures, and so is the Gospel story at Christmas.

I mean, just picture it.

First, you have Mary and Joseph, a couple whose relationship is surely at least a little messy, given that Joseph is not the father of Mary’s baby. They’ve talked through it, sure, and they both have faith that this baby that Mary’s carrying will bring about a wonderful change in this difficult world they live in, but somehow, I think that doesn’t matter much when the sun is setting and Mary has stop for yet another break while Bethlehem is still miles away. They are tired, they are worried about finding a place to sleep, and when they finally do arrive in Bethlehem, their fears come true. Mary, about to pop, and Joseph, exhausted from the journey, have to settle into the stable, among the noise and mess of the animals.

Then, you have the shepherds. Goodness, are they a mess. They’re the least of the least, the gruff, grouchy, unbathed men who watch other people’s sheep for a living. They’ve probably wrapped themselves up in cloaks that haven’t been cleaned in who knows how long, shivering together through another night on the job. Maybe one or two of them have families they haven’t seen in some time, wives who they haven’t slept beside in months. Maybe one of the others is in love, but without the money needed to propose. Maybe others still are outcasts from their families, grinding their teeth in the cold because all they have in this world is their cloak, their staff, and these silly animals who need watching, even at night.

On top of that, you have the political mess that brought Mary and Joseph to town in the first place. A new emperor, or an emperor with a new policy, trying to keep control of Judea, a land where a confusing line of kings, priests, and rebellions has meant sending in a governor to ensure that some kind of peace is in the land. A census would give Augustus information about this little backwater, help him to figure out paths for his troops to march on their way to this or that battle. Not that anyone in Bethlehem in Judea would know that, of course. Everyone sighed and did as the emperor asked, because that was how you survived in this messy situation. You kept the Roman legion and the tax collectors happy and maybe you’d make it through this week, this month, this year. This census didn’t make any sense, but since when did anything that came down from Rome make sense?

And yet, into this mess, the savior of the world is born. Angels descend into this mess to tell the shepherds. Joseph and Mary, caught up in the middle of this mess, welcome a son who breathes his first breaths in a stable and sleeps his first night in a manger. In this mess, God becomes flesh. In this mess, God saves us all.

What a glorious, comforting message for us to hear on this Christmas Eve, in this world that is such a mess! God doesn’t shy away from our messiness—God enters into it and transforms it. God takes our mess and makes it into a memory to be treasured, as Mary, exhausted from bringing a baby into this world, treasurers the message from the messy shepherds who came into her messy guestroom at census time. There is nothing in this world that is too messy for God. There’s no mess, nothing in this world that is outside of God’s love and grace. No matter the mess in your life or in your heart, God wants to be there. No matter the mess or the pain or the hurt in your life, God wants to love you. God is an expert at loving messy, hurting people.

But—and here’s the challenge of our good and beautiful Gospel—God wants us to do the same. Just as the shepherds were messengers of God’s glory to Mary and Joseph, running from a field into a lively, messy stable, God calls us, in all our mess, to go out into the world in all its mess. We can’t ignore what happens in this world. We can’t set aside messy issues and pretend like they don’t affect us. We can’t hide ourselves away from the mess of this world. God calls us into the mess, because God is in the mess.

Beloved, you are loved with an everlasting love and nothing can change that. You are held in the arms of a God who delights in entering into your mess and walking with you through it, knowing that a week or two down the road, things will get messy again. That same God is calling you out into the world, in all its messiness and pain and sorrow, to engage with it, to see it as it is and to love it as God works to make it better. God’s dream doesn’t stop at healing our souls and hearts. God dreams of healing the entire world and God dreams of you being a part of that.

Tonight, we celebrate the birth of Jesus our Savior, the one who came to this earth to set us free and give us life abundant. Celebrate this birth. Delight in the goodness of our Gospel. Thank God for all the goodness you have been given, for the faithfulness God has shown, or reach out to God and invite God into your mess, or both. Rejoice in the love that makes us whole and will bring peace upon this earth. Dwell in the love of God this Christmas evening, so that you can carry God’s love into this beautiful, messy world tomorrow and all the days to come.

Amen.