He Came Into Our Mess

 

Good evening, and Merry Christmas to everyone of you who have come to worship with us tonight and also to those who have joined us on line.  I have always loved attending, planning, and leading Christmas Eve services.  It is hard for me to embrace the idea that this will be my last Christmas Eve service that I will plan and lead as I am retiring from pastoral ministry and pivoting to become a hospice chaplain in less than a month.  It’s almost shocking to myself to say that. 

Nevertheless, Christmas Eve services seem almost magical with all the beautiful lights and music.  As the Christmas Story unfolds through the service order, my emotions have never ceased to stir with wonder of how the omnipotent God who created the whole vast universe would condescend to become a helpless little baby.  But not only does the Christmas Story and the accompanying carols cause me to pause in wonder-filled worship, my heart is also warmed by being together with people that I love.  Even behind the covid-masks, I see the light of love beaming from so many eyes.  This and every Christmas Eve service that I have attended, planned, or led, have never ceased to enrich my soul.  And I still feel the same tonight. 

But not everyone feels that way.  A few weeks ago, as I was scrolling down my Facebook feed, I encountered a very different sort of Christmas Eve story from a young woman by the name of Cassie.  She posted this profound episode in her life:

“The year my dad- who was a pastor at the time- was caught in his addiction, the Church leadership asked him and my mom to not attend the Christmas Eve service. The investigation was ongoing and they wanted him to step back while it happened.

What they didn't count on, I don't think, was for me to show up at the service.

I have a deep commitment to tradition so when my parents said we weren't going to the service, I resolved to go by myself.

Under the weight of uncertainty and the fear of what I had suspected might just be a true accusation, I showed up to the candlelight service.

Families were there to celebrate; it was Christmas after all.

I found my usual spot at the front and as the first carols rang out, my tears began to fall. I felt like an imposter. I was a cloud of grief and darkness amidst a cheerful celebration. I felt guilty for dampening the time of rejoicing

As I sat, I found myself talking to Jesus. "I'm ruining your party," I told him.

It was his response in that moment that changed Christmas for me forever. He told me, “Cassie I came to that manger as a baby not for those in celebration, but for those in mourning.”

I came for you. In this moment. Right here.

For the first time in my relatively easy life, I was tasting heartache (and oh if only I knew how much more would come). And it was there that Jesus showed me the heart of Christmas. Jesus stepped down to pursue the broken and the hurting and the lost.”

<Cassie James Face Book post December 13, 2020>

Christmas is a very sentimental time.  We yearn for family togetherness: the warm conversation and embraces, the exchange of gifts, the playing of games together, and, of course, the unceasing conveyor belt of sweets that pass before us. Emotions and expectations run very high.  That’s why people who are grieving struggle the most at this time of the year.  Their hopes and expectations have been shattered.  The celebration of Christmas seems almost cruel when one’s spirit is so broken. 

Of the coming of Christ, the prophet declared, “The people who walk in darkness will see a great light.  For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine” (Isa. 9:2).  The Apostle John, in his Gospel, would later write that Christ is the “Light of the World.”   

The world is a very dark place right now.  I don’t need to rehearse the details with you.  You may even feel like Cassie, whose Facebook post I read just a few moments ago.  You may think you don’t even belong in a place like this for this celebration.  You can’t wait to get out of here because the warmth of goodwill and celebration is not at all what you’re feeling right now.  But wait a minute…  Didn’t we just sing a few moments ago, “The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger, in all our trials born to be our Friend.  He knows our need. To our weakness is no stranger?”  When Jesus went to a dinner party with tax collectors and loose women, the self-righteous religious leaders scoffed, “Why does eat with that scum?”  Jesus told them, “I didn’t come for self-righteous religious people, but for those who are messed up and know it.”  He came for such a time as this.  And he came for you and me in all of our brokenness.  The Bible says, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (II Cor. 5:21 ESV).  In other words, Jesus entered into our mess.  He became one of us and took on our soul-sickness so that we might be made whole.

These last two years have been really tough.  You may not feel like celebrating much tonight. You know, you don’t have to manufacture or fake being happy right now.  You don’t have to because Jesus came to meet you just exactly as you are right now.  Jesus is a “man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.”  And he says to you and me tonight, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30). 

“Arise, shine, for your light has come!  And the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.”