Luke 2:1-20

Part I.

It is the task of the pastor to speak to those issues of faith which are, you might say, "where the rubber meets the road." Practical Christianity. So instead of the usual Christmas reflection on the wonder of the season and such things, tonight I'd like to dress it in more familiar garb.

There are people in our congregation who are having a very difficult Christmas. there are some who live hand to mouth, who don't know how they will be paying the bills a month from new. Others have lost someone dear to them this year - this is the first Christmas they are going through without their loved one, and they are having trouble coping. Others are facing the loss of someone that they love - they know that this will probably be their last Christmas with them. And there are many, many others.

Part II.

We see stories like these on television, particularly around this time of the year - always with the same sweet endings, as everyone lives happily ever after. Reality, however, is quite different, and not often as kind. It is the same with the nativity. there is the sweet picture of a mother with her first born, among the fresh hay of the stable; the infant is cooing in her lap, while Joseph proudly looks on. The shepherds are there as well - silently adoring. Even the animals, at a safe distance, seem attentive. The's the picture on the cards. But that's not the reality. Mary is, perhaps, fifteen years old, and having her first baby. She is giving birth in among the filth and stench of a cave that serves as a stable. It is damp and cold; the stable is full of stinking, sweaty animals. Flies buzz around. There is animal manure on the floor. There is no light, no one to help a young teenage mother except an aging man, her new husband in this arranged marriage, who is struggling to make some place for her and their baby among the animals.

It is in the midst of this struggle, when Mary is certainly wondering about this promise she believes was given to her, that we hear the angels singing overhead. It is the shepherds - about the equivalent of the modern skid-row bum - who hear them, and come to worship, breaking in on this couple's small moment of intimacy. Theirs is the only confirmation she receives that this is not a mistake. Yet heaven is open, both for the shepherds and for Mary and Joseph so that, even in these unlikely circumstances, we are aware that God's will is being done, and His kingdom has broken into the world.

This story, then, is a melody of two lines. One cannot be understood without the other. On the lower cleft, there is only what we always see: a young mother in trouble, about to give birth in the lowliest and most hopeless of circumstances. There is nothing new or wonderful about that message. We hear of such things all the time. Yet above it, on the upper cleft, there is the angel's song, and God's will is brought to completion through this most unlikely birth.

That is also the story that is being played out among us, over and over, this holiday season. A couple is struggling to find a place in the world. People are displaced, marginalized by the circumstances of their life. And we, the incarnate body of Christ, struggle with them. Christmas is all about incarnation: in this congregation and in the world. Luther says that, if the people in the inn knew that Mary was carrying the Savior of the world, they would surely have made room for him. As it is, though, we know Christ only in one another. And so, in those who are struggling among us, we have come face to face with the challenge of Christmas - to meet Jesus in the stable, to adore Him, to lay our gifts at His feet, as we respond to those in need. Tomorrow the needs will be different. And we will be called upon to respond again. And the day after that. And the day after that. And so we will learn to make Christmas a daily affair - to keep it daily in our hearts.

Part III.

There is no part three. That is the message of Christmas - that God comes to us when we are farthest from Him, when we are weakest and most in need. Not in the comfortable inn, or the cozy stable - but in the back alley, in the empty pantry, in the broken heart. But my homeletics professor always told us that every sermon should have three parts, so I'll add one thought. John tells the Christmas story in a slightly different manner than we have tonight, but he gets to the heart of the matter when he says, "For God so loved the world, that He sent His only Son. . . ." The Son was sent to reveal the heart of His father, and to show us just how much He cares. "Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so. You're invited to sing along:

Jesus loves me, this I know,

For the Bible tells me so!

Little ones to Him belong;

They are week, but He is strong!

Yes, Jesus loves me!

Yes, Jesus loves me!

Yes, Jesus loves me -

The Bible tells me so!