Christmas Eve

Everything is so beautiful tonight, that it’s hard to imagine Christmas any other way. I can hardly imagine Christmas without the poinsettias, the trees, the lights. And I can hardly imagine Christmas without the proclamation about Bethlehem. About finding a child, wrapped in swaddling cloth, and laid in a manger. It almost begins to feel like a manger in Bethlehem is the ideal place for the Messiah to enter into humanity. But it’s not. {smile}

Think of a place that’s important to you. Think of some physical place that is so special that it’s burned into your memory. You could easily see it when you close your eyes. What makes that place special? Maybe some of us thought of beautiful vistas, overlooking waterfalls. Places that just naturally attract wide-eyed visitors. Maybe some of us thought of different kinds of places. Like a dirty park bench where someone asked you to marry them. Or a little patch of grass where you scored your first goal. Or one particular head stone among many in a large cemetery.

Some of these kinds of places in our lives are not special because of what you can see. And they may not be special to anyone else.

So, what is it that makes something special?

What’s the difference between Bethlehem and the next little town down the road. Well, wait…surely there is something special about Bethlehem. We’ve praised it in songs for centuries. Even it’s name sounds poetic: Bethlehem.

Well, actually, there is nothing too special about Bethlehem. It was basically a suburb of Jerusalem. Sure it was known as the city of David, but it was not the only city that claimed David. Jerusalem was the city of David. And yes, Bethlehem was foretold in Micah, but it’s not like it was the only town, or even the best town mentioned in Micah’s prophecies. And you have to twist the Hebrew words around a few times before it actually works. And by the way, in Hebrew, Bethlehem means ‘house of bread’.

And I have to break it to you, the manger is not a romantic place to be born (I mean, think about a stable with animals.) But it wasn’t a miraculous place to be born, either. In fact, it was a common place for poor folks to give birth. Jesus was probably not the only child born that night in a manger. In other words, there is nothing outstanding about the events that we celebrate tonight — nothing special about the nature of Christ’s birth — except this: God chose it. God chose Mary — a poor, second-class citizen — and not even an experienced mother. God chose Bethlehem — a town that was so small then, that it’s a stretch to even call it a town. God chose a time and place for Jesus, so unprepared — so unwilling to hear God’s message of Love — that the people literally killed the messenger. This is who was entrusted with the only Son of God.

Likewise, I imagine that there is nothing truly outstanding about most or any of our homes this year. Unless there’s something I don’t know, our houses won’t be filmed for Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Our families will not be celebrated in tabloids. Our graduations, weddings, and funerals won’t be televised on live TV. Our various and blended families may be just two people, we may be four or five, we may be one. And we all try to be good people, more or less. But none of us have earned a heavenly host to do our PR. None of us claim any kind of privileged fast-track relationship with the Almighty. No one here has a corner on the God market. There is nothing particularly outstanding for most of our lives except this: God chooses us.

God chooses us to be entrusted with a precious, defenseless, baby — the Savior who is Christ the Lord. God chooses all of us: shepherds, out-of-towners, strangers, sick people, addicted people, boring people, tired people. God chooses us to receive the savior of the nations. Us! Think about this decision: God placed the fate of the world into the hands of a teenage girl living in the brutal Ancient world. We get the body of Christ placed in our hands as a broken piece of bread. We have the words of life — the Word of God — read to us by our parents. Our children. Our neighbors. By strangers. The Gospel of Jesus Christ is proclaimed to us with lips that are also used to gossip about neighbors. To argue with loved ones. These are the mouths that God uses to spread the Word.

God has designed a gift so strong that it bends the universe toward justice; God has a message so important, that it suffers pain and humiliation to get through to us; God has a vision for creation that will end every war and dry every tear.

And to bear that vision into the world — to put flesh and blood, sweat and tears, hands and feet on love — though God has heavenly hosts available, though God could force the will of every government on earth, though God spins every planet on its axis and sees to the ends of the universe, God does the crazy thing. The Christmas thing.

God chooses us.

The unamazing birth of a King. The simplicity of God’s gift. The insignificance of small town called Bethlehem. The story of Christmas is the story of our lives. It’s the story of God showing up in unexpected places. In ordinary places. And blessing every ordinary part of our lives — the crying of a newborn baby, hitting the snooze button on Monday morning, getting a bad grade, losing a job, taking our last breath — that’s where God chooses to be.

God chooses each of us to bear Christ into the world. To literally be the body of Christ. To be trusted with the most important message there is — spoken with your mouth, carried with your hands, lived in your life.

In this place. In this time.