Not Letting Go…

(The sermon begins with Pastor Mike, sitting in a chair, holding up a stamped envelope.)

I mailed this to myself a while back. (Rips it open) I read to you what it says…

By the time these words are read, I will be tired. Very tired.

And the long run of Christmas Eve services will be over. And morning will have broken—much too early for many with young children. The echo of squeals of delight will be hanging in the air, carols will be playing in most, if not all of the houses and cars, and neighbors—even those who are not always terribly friendly—will be greeting one another as they happen upon each other outside, taking that walk to the car to come to church, or to begin the trip to grandma’s or to travel to see children, family, or friends.

The mad rush, which began before Thanksgiving, will finally be over, and we will be left to consider, as we pull the torn wrapping paper into trash bags, prepare for the next meal or celebration, or quietly ponder the memories of so many Christmases past…what does it mean when we come together and say, almost casually, “Once, long ago, God came to earth”?

Came as a human child—the most helpless of beings—to rescue creation?

What does it mean to say that, “Once, long ago, God came to earth”?

You know, when I was a young man, I went to seminary. And it was there that I was taught that, if I was a mature Christian, if I was a good scholar, if I was a good theologian, I would come to realize that Christmas, for all of it’s warmth, and mystery, and majesty, and talk of babies, swaddling clothes, and love…simply did not compare to Easter. That children love Christmas…but that those who put aside childish things come to love Easter more—because Easter, they said, is where God saves us.

But I tend to be, in the end, ruled by my heart more than my head. And through the years my heart continued to love Christmas. Of course I always loved Easter as well, but, given the choice? For me, the day, THAT day continued to be Christmas. And part of me, felt a little guilty, and a little bit like, maybe, I was refusing to grow up.

And honestly? I was content to live with that failing on my part. The failing that, essentially, said: “I know I should love Easter more; I know that a mature Christian loves Easter more; but I still find my heart, as a Christian, in Christmas.”

I was content, as you might say, to accept my broken, fallen, less than scholarly nature.

But, oddly enough, scholarship is a hazard of my job. It’s something you have to keep doing if you want to stay relevant—or at least remotely interesting to a congregation forced to sit and listen to you, week after week. And in my scholarship I began to hear voices that made me think, “Maybe I’m not so off base…”

When I read of the spiritual lives of Children I heard children say that the REASON they love Christmas is not just the presents and celebration (of course they don’t hurt), but rather the fact that GOD CAME. What child doesn’t want to see someone they love and trust coming TO them? Children love Christmas because they see the action of Christ moving to them. JUST because of love. Jesus doesn’t call from across the street and say, “Get over here!” No. Jesus comes to them. (And that tells the child he/she is WORTH something.)

Then I read books by Hildegard and by the Celtic theologians and I realized that they embraced the God of Creation told of by Genesis—that this school of thought embraces the idea that God is, and has always been, inextricably part of creation. And I began to realize that the idea that we could ever be totally separate from God is nonsense. Creation sprung from the word of the creator, the creation is linked to the creator and that can’t be changed. My parents are in me—nothing changes that. My children are filled with my presence. Nothing changes that. The Creator and the Creation are inextricably linked. Anything that says otherwise is, in my opinion, misguided.

And finally, I just came to the idea that, maybe, just maybe, the “mature” Christian world had it wrong. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with loving Easter more than Christmas, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is, I came to understand that the salvation we receive on the cross, really begins in the manger.

What does it mean, when we say, so casually, “Once, long ago, God came to earth”?

It means that God came to a world that need reminding. A world that needed to learn anew that God is completely caught up in us. That needed to learn that God is with us down to our DNA and cannot let go. That needed to learn how much God loves and is part of us—even if this meant taking the journey with us, as one of us. If that’s what was needed, that’s what would be done.

One of the things that makes my job difficult is saying goodbye to those who leave this life. So many friends, over so many years, have passed under my watch and, honestly? It’s draining. It’s draining even as I know they go to their reward.

And sometimes people facing the situation of watching a friend or loved one go will ask me, “What do I say? What do I do?” And my answer is always the same. It’s really the only answer there is. “Just be there. Just be there….and let them know you love them.”

What does it mean when we say, “Long ago, God came to be with us?

It means, God made sure to show us that God is, was, and is always there. There in love.

Maybe Easter is, in the end, where the big “saving action” of God takes place. We can talk about that, well, at Easter. But you know what? Right now, the fact that this baby is in this manger is good enough for me. This baby tells me that God is present, God loves us—and that God is never letting go.

This baby lets me know a very, very simple fact: I am God’s child; and you are God’s child…this baby lets us know that we are God’s babies as well.

And God’s not letting go—not anytime soon.

Merry Christmas. God is with us.

God always has been.