Love Comes Down
Christmas Eve
December 24, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 2.1-20
I don’t know why, but I’ve been thinking of my sister, Cheryl, this Christmas. Perhaps it’s because like most births, hers changed our family. I don’t remember much about her birth because I wasn’t quite two years old. I do remember standing outside the hospital looking up at my mom’s room because we weren’t allowed in the room back then. Of course, that could be a memory from when my brother Paul was born more than two years later.
Cheryl’s birth was significant because, until she was born, there had been no girls born in the Olson family for at least a generation. I learned later that when my older brother Greg was born 9 years earlier, my Great Aunt Gertie was so disappointed that she threw a present at my mom saying, “I guess this is for you.” But when Cheryl was born, it changed everything. It didn’t take me long to figure out that Cheryl was Daddy’s “Princess” and all that meant. I can still remember the Christmas when Cheryl would get her last doll, all of us knowing she was too old
The way babies have been born has changed over the years, but their significance hasn’t. Like that first Christmas when God took on human flesh and became one of us and one with us, I’m pretty sure there was no “Gender Reveal Party” or sonograms posted on social media. Of course, you could say that the gender reveal was in a dream to Joseph and to Mary in person. There was no exploding blue powder or blue icing on a cake. There weren’t any pictures with Joseph and Mary standing sideways with their arms under Mary’s belly. There were no lavish birthing centers or even sterile hospital rooms. There was no Pitocin to get labor started, Demerol to take the edge off the pain, or episiotomies to ease the delivery. Though the scripture doesn’t say, there were probably midwives or something similar attending her because it’s hard to imagine Mary being alone in a crowded Bethlehem.
But. There were angels and there were shepherds. Now that’s an unusual combination of first century social media. Think about this for a moment. The most glorious and life changing news ever to reach humanity comes to the lowliest regarded people of all humanity, shepherds. Shepherding, the worst job one could have, was barely an entry-level position and scorned by many. Yet, God chooses shepherds to proclaim this good news, first to them and then to Bethlehem. God doesn’t come to the ruling class in a place like Rome or even Jerusalem. God comes to lowly shepherds in the least city of Judah. “Don’t be afraid,” the angels say; “This is really good news, to you and to all people.” In Luke’s narrative, God’s coming in human flesh wasn’t just for the privileged and mighty; it was for all people, everywhere.
In Jesus’ birth at Christmas, God literally turns the world upside down and along with it all of our expectations. God’s love comes down to us to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves: heal our brokenness and our disconnect from God. But, if we’re honest, we’ll admit that there’s a shadow that stands over our celebration of Christ’s birth tonight. It’s a shadow cast by a cross. Yet, included in that shadow are all of the doubts and insecurities and hurts and deep woundedness that we have brought to the manger tonight. And so, God comes in the midst of the darkest time of the year to remind us that darkness hasn’t won. Thus, we light candles to remind ourselves that light shines in the darkness and the darkness won’t overcome us.
Maybe I’ve been thinking about my sister Cheryl this Christmas because God is reminding me that he comes to us and blesses us in unexpected ways. Those blessings don’t always seem like good news to us. You see, Jesus is born whenever and wherever we need him most, even when we don’t know where that is. Do not be afraid, my sisters and brothers, for to you is born this day a Savior, Messiah and Lord. Rest assured that if God can work through shepherds, if God’s love comes down for them, then surely God’s love has come down for you and me so that we might take courage in the dark. Merry Christmas!
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