Merry Christmas! I’m so glad that we can gather tonight to hear again in story and song the wonderful good news of God’s love for us. Whatever this year has brought for you - joy or deep sorrow, dreams realized or crushed, disappointment or fulfillment, this story is for you. God’s grace has come to us in Jesus, in bread and wine, in word and water, and it is for you.
One of our Sunday afternoon traditions is to watch the recording of the previous night’s episode of Saturday Night Live. We really enjoyed the other weekend’s Christmas special with Matt Damon, particularly the sketch entitled “The Best Christmas Ever”.
The scene opens with a couple settling in on the couch in the glow of the fireplace - kids finally in bed, dishes done, glass of wine in hand. Cecily Strong looks at Matt Damon and says, “So. Did you have a merry Christmas?”
“Are you kidding me?!” he responds. “That was the best Christmas ever. I had a smile on my face from the moment I woke up.”
But then there’s a flashback to that morning - the clock glowing “5:40am” while the kids shriek “It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!” and jump on the bed, waking their exhausted, less-than-thrilled, definitely-not smiling parents.
Back to the couch. “My family didn’t ruin your day, did they?” “No! I love that we hosted this year. I think they actually made my day.”
And flashback to the doorbell ringing - Matt answers with a cheerful “Merry Christmas!” only to be interrupted by a grouchy, “Traffic was awful! THREE HOURS to get here!” And then, as they walk past him, “Whoa. You gained weight!”
On it went, starry-eyed reminiscing paired with other, more accurate, flashbacks, all of it topped off with a crash and shouting from somewhere upstairs – “Mom! Tyler’s in my room! Get out!”
As the sketch ends, a festive red background appears on the screen, with this message: Even when it’s the worst, it’s the best.
I think, too often, our telling of the first Christmas has received the same rosy treatment.
We sing “silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright” when the flashback instead might show the crowded, noisy streets as Bethlehem is flooded with people for the census; and Mary, red-faced and sweaty as she labors in a barn surrounded by the incessant sounds of the animals.
We sing “the cattle are lowing, the poor baby wakes, but little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes” when the flashback instead might show an anxious Joseph, awkwardly rocking a squalling newborn while Mary, limp with exhaustion, tries to rest on a pile of hay.
I think, especially at Christmas, we need the humanity of this scene, not the perfect and serene holy family. In the midst of our own disappointments, unmet expectations, brokenness, messiness, and sin, we need to hear that it was anything but a perfect and serene world that God was born into.
And really, this mess is exactly why we need the incarnation, exactly why it’s not enough for God to be far off, meticulously tracking our mistakes and raining down judgment. This world full of brokenness? This is the world God loves. These less-than-picture-perfect moments? These are the places God is with us. We know God’s presence most fully not when everything is the best, but when everything is the worst.
This is the best good news - that to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This is the best good news - that this God comes to us when we are at our worst, when our lives and relationships and efforts are not what we wish them to be. This is the best good news - that Jesus is for you.
As we gather to receive communion tonight, you will come forward and stretch out your hands to receive the bread, the body of Christ. I invite you to imagine that your hands are a manger, dirt and scars included, ready to receive the Christ child who brings the good news of grace and love and peace to the messy and broken people God loves. This is the gift of Christmas. This is the best Christmas ever. Amen.
One of our Sunday afternoon traditions is to watch the recording of the previous night’s episode of Saturday Night Live. We really enjoyed the other weekend’s Christmas special with Matt Damon, particularly the sketch entitled “The Best Christmas Ever”.
The scene opens with a couple settling in on the couch in the glow of the fireplace - kids finally in bed, dishes done, glass of wine in hand. Cecily Strong looks at Matt Damon and says, “So. Did you have a merry Christmas?”
“Are you kidding me?!” he responds. “That was the best Christmas ever. I had a smile on my face from the moment I woke up.”
But then there’s a flashback to that morning - the clock glowing “5:40am” while the kids shriek “It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!” and jump on the bed, waking their exhausted, less-than-thrilled, definitely-not smiling parents.
Back to the couch. “My family didn’t ruin your day, did they?” “No! I love that we hosted this year. I think they actually made my day.”
And flashback to the doorbell ringing - Matt answers with a cheerful “Merry Christmas!” only to be interrupted by a grouchy, “Traffic was awful! THREE HOURS to get here!” And then, as they walk past him, “Whoa. You gained weight!”
On it went, starry-eyed reminiscing paired with other, more accurate, flashbacks, all of it topped off with a crash and shouting from somewhere upstairs – “Mom! Tyler’s in my room! Get out!”
As the sketch ends, a festive red background appears on the screen, with this message: Even when it’s the worst, it’s the best.
I think, too often, our telling of the first Christmas has received the same rosy treatment.
We sing “silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright” when the flashback instead might show the crowded, noisy streets as Bethlehem is flooded with people for the census; and Mary, red-faced and sweaty as she labors in a barn surrounded by the incessant sounds of the animals.
We sing “the cattle are lowing, the poor baby wakes, but little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes” when the flashback instead might show an anxious Joseph, awkwardly rocking a squalling newborn while Mary, limp with exhaustion, tries to rest on a pile of hay.
I think, especially at Christmas, we need the humanity of this scene, not the perfect and serene holy family. In the midst of our own disappointments, unmet expectations, brokenness, messiness, and sin, we need to hear that it was anything but a perfect and serene world that God was born into.
And really, this mess is exactly why we need the incarnation, exactly why it’s not enough for God to be far off, meticulously tracking our mistakes and raining down judgment. This world full of brokenness? This is the world God loves. These less-than-picture-perfect moments? These are the places God is with us. We know God’s presence most fully not when everything is the best, but when everything is the worst.
This is the best good news - that to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This is the best good news - that this God comes to us when we are at our worst, when our lives and relationships and efforts are not what we wish them to be. This is the best good news - that Jesus is for you.
As we gather to receive communion tonight, you will come forward and stretch out your hands to receive the bread, the body of Christ. I invite you to imagine that your hands are a manger, dirt and scars included, ready to receive the Christ child who brings the good news of grace and love and peace to the messy and broken people God loves. This is the gift of Christmas. This is the best Christmas ever. Amen.
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