Christmas Eve Reflection: Born to Save
The Wonder and Paradox of Christmas
No one knows the exact day that
Christ was born. It’s really not
important. December 25th is
the day that the Church has chosen to celebrate his coming. But we do know that the true meaning of
Christmas has been under attack for quite some time now. I don’t want to rehearse the stuff about whether
or not we should say, “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” or whether or not
public schools should sing Christmas carols.
It does seem a bit hypocritical to me that we can use the word “Christmas”
and sing the carols to draw big audiences and sell products in our culture, but
to actually believe the story and the Bible from which it came is deemed
somehow bigoted and uninformed. The
limitations that the world imposes on the Gospel aren’t fair. But when has the world ever been a friend to
God?
Let’s lay that aside. We get ourselves sometimes so worked up over
the cultural battles that we can be distracted from noticing our own
shortcomings as Christians. We like the
warm feelings of Christmas. The words
and sounds of the carols bring back wonderful memories. Seeing Mary and Joseph and the baby in the crèche
reminds us of the “reason for the season.”
But if we’re not careful, our “reason for the season” becomes the
protection of our sentiments rather than a deep reflection on the wonder of the
Incarnation and what response this day demands of us. We can be our own worst enemy by being
content with just recapturing “that Christmas feeling.”
Christmas is disturbing. It should make us tremble with deep awe and
wonder. I have a good friend who blogs
several times a day. I really don’t know
how he does it. And he is quite edgy in
his topics. He’s no twenty-something
radical pushing against his upbringing.
He’s a sixty-something pastor who thinks and prays deeply about the
things of the Lord. One of his blogs to
day was called “Violent Night.” OK. That’s upsetting. But he’s right. Christmas was the day that God himself
invaded Satan’s domain to engage the darkness in cosmic warfare. So much for warm, fuzzy feelings. Christmas has to be more than mere
sentiment. Lawrence Hull Stookey
insightfully observes:
Christmas
commemorates the appearing of that Eternal Word in our midst. To settle for the romance of a displaced
mother giving birth in a stable, to argue about how a virgin can conceive a
child, is to bring profundity to the brink of ruin. Christmas is the enfleshment of God, the
humiliation of the Most High and divine participation in all that is painful,
ugly, frustrating, and limited. Divinity
takes on humanity, to restore the image of God implanted at creation but
sullied by sin. Here is the great
exchange Christmas ponders, that God became like us that we might become like
God. God accepted death that the world
might accept life. The Creator assumed
temporality to redeem creation from futility.[1]
Christmas is the hinge-point in
history. It is when God became man to
bring man back to himself. Jesus was not
merely born – he was “sent” from God. Christmas
was when the King came to be the Servant.
Jesus came preaching the Kingdom of
God and there were many who wanted to get in on his program. They were excited and they began to talk
about what place in the hierarchy they would have when Jesus finally inaugurated
the Kingdom. They were in for a
surprise! Those who would be first would
be last and those who would be last would be first. And then Jesus reminded them why he
came: “For even the Son of Man came not
to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark
10:45).
Jesus – the little baby in the
manger – was born to die. He was born to
save us.
Diane and I are fortunate this
year. Our son, Wes, has come to share
Christmas and spend a few days with us.
Last night he and I watched “Les Miserables” (the musical) on DVD. I wanted to see it at home because when I saw
it last year in the theater the guy behind me was talking and the guy across
the aisle was loudly munching on his popcorn.
Les Mis is a deeply moving story and I wanted to experience it again
without the distractions. (I seem to
fully engage myself emotionally into those kinds of movies.) The most profound moment in the film is when
Fantine, played by Anne Hathaway bares her tortured soul in the song, “I
Dreamed a Dream.” Fantine’s life tragic. She had a child with a man who deserted
her. She works in a factory to pay room,
board, and care for the child. When she
loses her job for unjust reasons, she is forced onto the streets and eventually
prostitution to support her daughter.
She has sold her beautiful hair and her body is wracked with
tuberculosis. Her situation is truly pathetic.
Symbolically, she sings her song from a coffin. I don’t know if there is a more profound
moment in all of film history. I can’t
think of one. For that performance, she
won the Oscar last year.
"I Dreamed A Dream"
There was a time when men
were kind
When their voices were soft
And their words inviting
There was a time when love
was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting
There was a time
Then it all went wrong
I dreamed a dream in times
gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would
never die
I dreamed that God would be
forgiving
Then I was young and
unafraid
And dreams were made and
used and wasted
There was no ransom to be
paid
No song unsung
No wine untasted
But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as
thunder
As they tear your hope apart
And they turn your dream to
shame
He slept a summer by my side
He filled my days with
endless wonder
He took my childhood in his
stride
But he was gone when autumn
came
And still I dream he'll come
to me
That we'll live the years
together
But there are dreams that
cannot be
And there are storms we
cannot weather
I had a dream my life would
be
So different from this hell
I'm living
So different now from what
it seemed
Now life has killed
The dream I
dreamed
There is hardly a better description
of the broken world in which we live.
Some of you have lived or are now living a similar hellish dream. Fantine was wrong. There was a ransom to be paid because we
deeded the whole world over to Satan and the forces of darkness years ago in
the garden.
But now, Christ has come. He was born to die – to give his life as a
ransom for you and for me. You cannot
separate the cradle from the cross. Let’s
clear the fog away. Christmas is not
about Hallmark moments, White Christmas, and religious sentiments. It’s about God becoming man to save you and
me from the darkness and brokenness of life.
So let’s not impoverish this day with just warm feelings and nothing
more. Bow in wonder and awe. Most of all, believe and receive “this little
child” as the Savior, born to die for you.
[1] Laurence Hull Stookey, Calendar:
Christ’s Time for the Church, Nashville:
Abingdon Press, 1996, p. 106.
Comments
Post a Comment