A New Thing
Christmas Eve
Christ, Preston, MN
December 24, 2022
Luke 2.1-20
Christmas is one of those times that evokes strong memories. Most of those memories are good ones, but some are tender and poignant, almost painful even. Growing up, our family always opened presents on Christmas Eve, one before dinner and the rest after church. Speaking of presents, my parents were scrupulous about making sure that all four of us children received equal presents. One year we all got identical clock radios. I still had mine until a few years ago. One of my most poignant memories was when my sister got her last doll. She’d always got a doll each year until the time when we all knew it would be her last one because she was growing out of them.
I baffled that same sister one year by ingeniously disguising a record album she desperately wanted. (If you don’t know what a record album is, ask your grandparents.) I took great pleasure in both stumping her and seeing her delight at receiving what she wanted. One year my mom made lutefisk because my Dad’s aunt and uncle, full-blooded Swedes, came for dinner. Thank God it was the last time. My Uncle Floyd, a confirmed bachelor until he married when I was a freshman in college, joined us “as long as you don’t get me anything,” as he said. We always did, but he still came. It was a joy to see his joy as he oohed and aahed over everyone of our presents. Of course, getting married and having two daughters has made more traditions and memories, but that’s for another time.
In church, we have our own memories of Christmases past, even as we make new ones as we did last week with the wonderful children’s program. Like our personal lives, each year Christmas is the same only it’s not. Ture, we read the same story each year about Joseph, Mary, Jesus, the angels, and shepherds. But it’s different each year because we’re not the same each year. That is one reason why the Bible is so powerful in general, and this story in particular. The Bible speaks to us in new ways because each year we are in different places. That’s why the words of the angel are so important: “to you is born this day … a Savior.” That announcement wasn’t just for the shepherds; it was for us as well.
We tell this story each year, not only because it’s a good story that makes for great children’s programs and generates wonderful hymns, but to help us see where Christ is being born today. God is not a “one and done” kind of God, but a God who continually births new things in us. We tell this story every year because we need to hear again how God is born into painful places. As my favorite hymn, “O Holy Night” says, “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.”
If we are being honest with ourselves, there’s a terrifying aspect to this new thing that gets born every day. Not only does God push us out of our comfort zones with new things being birthed, but the display of God’s power is awe-filled. Mary experiences this awe as she ponders all these things in her heart. She is trying to put together what God is up to and make sense of it all. Because we know the rest of the story, this is something that is going to shake her and Jesus’ future followers to their core. This baby, wrapped in swaddling cloths, laying on the wooden manger, will be naked on a wooden cross.
But that’s another story for another time. Even so, although we are reminded that our world can be very dark, the Christmas story reminds us that God has not forsaken it or us. For to you is born this day a savior, God in the flesh, Immanuel, God with Us, every day. As you open your presents this year, I invite you to open your eyes to see where God is doing that in your lives. May your Christmas be merry, my siblings in Christ, as you make new memories this year. And may heart as well as your eyes be open to the new thing God is doing. Amen.
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