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If Our Cup of Christmas Cheer Is Running Low John 1: 1 – 14 |
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Summary
If Our Cup of Christmas Cheer Is Running Low By now I hope we have all of the presents wrapped, we have tightened the last bolt of the “some assembly required,” we have licked all of the envelopes for the cards. We are ready to ask now what it all means. We can stop worrying about society’s understanding of Christmas and begin to listen to the startling things the New Testament has to say about the birth of Jesus. Maybe the reason we scurry around so much during this time of year is that we don’t want to have to face the fact that we don’t really feel much cheer at Christmas. Christmas is tougher on us than we usually want to admit. We send cards to people we miss, wishing we could see them face to face. We worry whether we have bought the right present. We throw our hands up, thinking we will never have it all done. The problem really sinks more deeply than that. If someone we can’t do without has died, the empty chair at the table is harder to bear this time of year. If money is tight, the faces of our children droop even lower when we tell them we just can’t get them what they want. Pink slips go out this time of year as companies try to cut costs before January. We may wonder what good Christmas is if we read stories about a charity robbed of Christmas toys right before they were to be delivered. This time of year is not easy for everyone. It is not always full of cheer. Some churches have even started the practice of holding “Blue Christmas” services. These churches have recognized that for some, Christmas, far from being a joyous time, can be more than we can stand. Did you know that suicides increase this time of year? Even if we are not that sad, Christmas can be difficult. We can grind our teeth if someone tosses us a “Merry Christmas” while our world crumbles apart. Even if we are not wrapped in grief or staring at a pile of unpaid bills, we may have the sinking feeling that Christmas won’t last. As soon as it is over, life goes back to normal. We might wonder why Christmas does not bring any lasting change. John’s teaching about the Incarnation John would not know about the frantic craziness we have twisted Christmas into. He would know about the loneliness and the empty feeling that we get when we can’t muster up enough cheer. He would know the grief of wishing we could share just one more holiday with the person we have lost. John would know about the people who drink too much at the office Christmas party. John would call all of that “darkness.” We are often attracted to the birth stories in the other gospels, like Luke, but John has much to teach us. John may not charm us with kicking babies in a manger or shepherds dropping their jaws at the angel’s word, but John teaches us some things we need to know about the birth of our Savior. We would have a hard time making a children’s play out of John’s Christmas words, but John gives us hope. John is realistic about the darkness, but also realistic about the light God shines in the midst of that darkness. For John, darkness is the sin and pain of the world. Darkness is our lack of faith, such as Nicodemus coming to Jesus at night. Darkness is the agony of grief as Mary and Martha mourn their brother. Darkness is Judas slinking off to plot Jesus’ death. Darkness is all around us, seeping into every crevice of God’s creation. In Jesus, God shines the light into the darkness of creation. Because of that light, we never have to give up in despair. No matter how hard life seems, we still have hope. Even if the darkness seems ready to crush us, the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot comprehend it or overcome it. The darkness cannot put it out. Part of shining that light into the darkness is God coming to live among us, becoming one of us. John says it in just a few words, and he speaks as a poet. “The Word became flesh and lived among us.” That sounds short and sweet, but it is so rich in meaning. When John says, “Word,” he packs a lot into a few letters. Word conveys the creative power of God, as in Genesis when God spoke and created the world. Word embodies God’s mystery, God’s purity, God’s orderliness. This pure and powerful Word became flesh in Jesus. When we hear “flesh,” we should think of everything that is the opposite of “Word.” If Word is creative and powerful, flesh is puny and decaying. If Word is pure, flesh is corrupt. John uses flesh the way we use the phrase, “only human,” meaning fallible, mistake-prone and weak. Only God could bring the two together. We can pop a brain cell trying to get our heads around the whole idea. How could the God of the entire universe become one of the many species on this tiny planet? We can never explain away every objection. We can never answer every skeptic. We accept on faith that the Word became flesh and lived among us. If we cannot fully explain it, we can still rejoice in it. The Word becoming flesh is more than just a biological puzzle. It is the affirmation that God has lived in our skin, walked in our shoes, hurt where we hurt. God has felt tired and hungry. In Jesus’ rejection by his opponents, God has experienced rejection. Jesus became the new tabernacle, representing God’s presence among the wandering Israelites. Jesus is God’s presence to us, and our presence to God. In Richardson, Texas, a group of caregivers found out what it is like to experience life as someone else. The workers at Arden Court, a care facility for people with dementia, went through a training exercise to simulate the effects of Alzheimer’s disease. They wore headphones so that they could not hear well. With goggles over their eyes they groped about trying to find their way. Lentil-filled gloves kept them from feeling anything firmly. Wearing special shoes, they could not walk well. Then the training exercise began. “Dress yourself,” came the simple orders from the supervisors. Easier said than done, found out the workers. “Pour up a glass of water.” Not so simple, they discovered. One of the employees complained, “My senses were so disoriented that I couldn’t concentrate on what I was supposed to do.” Nothing worked right: folding towels, finding socks in a drawer. The exercise made the workers more aware of what the clients at the facility experienced. One man strapped on the gear and went through the exercise even though he didn’t have to. He wasn’t employed at the facility. He just had a friend who lived there. He wanted to understand his friend at a deeper level. In his words, “I’ll never know exactly what my friend is experiencing, but at least this gives me some idea.” Our hope at Christmas The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. Maybe we cannot say exactly how the DNA worked on that one, but we rejoice that God understands us. When we are overcome with grief, we know that Jesus wept over Lazarus. When Jesus wept, the Word took on our flesh. The God of the entire universe, the creative Word that spoke the light into shining experienced pain the way we do. This Word turned flesh reveals grace and truth. Grace and truth fill Jesus the Christ. Grace forgives our sins and heals our hurts. Truth points us to the God who strips away the falsehoods about ourselves, and the evil of the world. The evil of the world will fade away. God’s truth and light will stand strong. John may not present us with an engaging story about a confused girl wondering what the angel meant by telling her she was God’s vessel. John does speak to us about the darkness all around us. In Jesus we see the glowing light that pushes the darkness back so we can see truth. Part of that truth is that God loves us and understands us. In Jesus the Word has become flesh. If Christmas leaves us feeling tired, or wistful, or writhing in grief, God has touched that experience. John’s message of the Word becoming flesh does not take away our grief if we have lost someone we miss terribly at Christmas time. God’s grace does redeem that grief and begin to heal it. We take comfort just knowing that God understands. Let us offer up our feelings to God. If we indeed do experience cheer, let us give thanks to God. If we find this time of year painful, let us accept God’s healing love, a love that knows our pain, and cares enough to share it with us. |
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