"The Birth of Jesus" - Luke 2: 1-20

 Sometimes we can get caught up in the memory of it all, can’t we? The memories associated with this season in particular. We remember Christmas Eve services in the past - lighting candles and singing familiar hymns. We remember big Christmas celebrations with family - complete with presents, decorations, and food spread around the table. We remember.

Yet, at times we also mis-remember, do we not? We remember the Christmas Eve service, but leave out the part of rushing out the door to get there. We remember the family celebrations - but we leave out the fighting. We remember, but we do not always remember accurately. Because we are a sentimental people. We want to have memories that are bursting at the seems with love, peace, hope, and joy, even if it comes at the expense of not always remembering what led to the moments we treasure the most. 

The same happens with scripture, my friends. Sometimes we mis-remember. Sometimes we want to rush to the end and in doing so, well, we set aside the hard pieces that reveal the heart of God to us the most.

Case-in-point, this evening’s scripture lesson. I’ve shared before that one of my favorite Christmas books of all time was introduced to me in third grade and still holds a special place in my heart. It’s entitled The Best/ Worst Christmas Pageant Ever. And returning to it year after year, I am struck by the fact that we try to clean up the Christmas story and its telling. We have Christmas parents where Mary is glowing, but friends, I’m pretty sure a more accurate rendition would be that she was tired. Tired from a long, dusty journey on the back of a donkey. Tired from giving birth. Tired of all of the whispers over the past several months. But even in her weariness, she was faithful.

And what about Joesph? We remember Jospeh for his obedience to God and faithfulness in following through in being engaged with Mary and have thrust him into the limelight for that generous love. But he wasn’t prominent. He wasn’t elite. And his family probably did not understand at all what he was doing. But God still chose and called him.

Or the shepherds. We love to tell how the angels burst forth in the skies, calling these men to go and be the first to lay eyes on the Savior of the world - but we don’t talk about what they risked in doing so. There isn’t any discussion about who is going to stay behind and watch the sheep. They probably didn’t lead their flocks at night through the city streets. So they took the risk of leaving behind their lively hoods because angels came and told them to go and see.

Friends, when we make this story so familiar that we retell it only from our sentimental memories instead of hearing it anew in all that it has to offer, we miss something. We miss the very revelation of Jesus.

Each of the Gospels start out by speaking of Jesus and his story a bit differently. A few weeks ago in worship we heard the words that begin the Gospel of John - a cosmic introduction. But Luke isn’t anything like that. Luke starts out with the power of the world calling a young couple away from their family in their time of need. The power of the town of Bethlehem, full of inn keepers turning them away, even as they see the swell of Mary’s stomach. And into all of that - Luke introduces the power of our Savior. 

I was at a retreat a few weeks ago where we sang together a song I have not heard in sometime - In Christ Alone. It’s this beautiful, powerful song, the words to the second stanza hit me in a way that they haven’t in the past, “In Christ alone! - who took on flesh, fullness of God in helpless babe. This gift of love and righteousness, scored by the ones he came to save.”

That is Luke’s message is it not - that even if the world did not recognize Jesus for who he is, even if they would scorn him - Jesus still came. In the flesh. For you and for me. 

See, friends, like Luke’s first hearers and readers, we know who Jesus is. We know the end of the story. But that doesn’t mean that they understood it. It doesn’t mean that we always understand it either. 

Maybe that’s why we try to clean it up a bit - make it more sentimental - because then its more palatable. Because it is really hard to understand that power was laid in a lowly manger. All because of you. And because of me. 

That’s the story of the Gospel, my friends. That again and again and again Jesus is misunderstood. He is mischaracterized. Because even the disciples, those closest to him, didn’t understand what true power looks like. It looks like God coming in the flesh. It looks like love that lays itself down for others. It looks like hope coming out of the most hopeless of places. 

True power is peace that pass all understand. It’s love that we cannot understand. It’s a peace that changes us. 

And that type of transformation - its messy. It’s not all about shouting from the rooftops - but instead its about taking time to be in quiet awe of our Savior. It’s not about doing things so the world can give us praise - its about faithful action that takes place out of the limelight. It’s not about what we have made Christmas into - but its about starring into the manger and realizing what it means for each of us. 

For when we stare into the manger, well brothers and sisters, that is where we realize why we need a Savior in the first place. And looking right back up at us, we see the ever-present love of God.

That is what we celebrate this evening. That is the message that cannot be contained or trampled by even the most powerful in this world. So let us take time to look into the face of love and let our hearts be changed. All because Christ came to change the world. Amen.