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Matthew 1: 18-25

All God's Children Rejoice: The Child of Christmas - Matthew 1: 18-25

I wouldn't call this a Christmas tradition per se, but one of the practices that intrigues me is the act of stealing the Christ-child. I have no idea how prevalent it is, but every year it seems to happen someplace - someone takes the doll, or the figurine, or whatever, out of someone’s outdoor nativity. Last year there were several people who reported to the editor of the local paper that it happened to them. What's with that?

I think of the possibilities why someone would steal the Christ-child - maybe there's a black market for nativity babies. Maybe it's a rite of passage in certain street gangs. Maybe some people see it as a good-luck charm, to possess the doll that lay in the manger. Maybe it's a protest against nativity scenes in public. Maybe it's a mean act by non-Christian groups or individuals.

But what if it's something deeper that's going on? What if there is something about Christ that is so intense, and so threatening, and so disruptive, that sooner or later, someone - maybe not even knowing why -- has to take action? Someone has to remove the Christ from the manger, or life as we know it can't continue on.

We all know that babies are disruptive. A new baby in the house disrupts your sleep, disrupts your routine, disrupts your priorities, and, especially in the case of boy-babies, disrupts your new shirt while you're changing his diapers (maybe that's only happened to me.) The point is, babies are darn disruptive to begin with.

But what about a baby that causes angels to sing in the middle of the night? Or stars to move? Or shepherds to leave their flocks? Or sages to travel hundreds of miles on camels, bringing expensive gifts? Or a powerful king to rant and rave and pronounce death on innocent children? All babies are disrupters, but this baby of Bethlehem seems to alter the very fabric of existence.

The little skit we started with today tells about some of the ways we observe the Christmas season nowadays. These are the things people enjoy - shopping and giving gifts, bright lights and decorations, Santa and his helpers, parties and drinking a little more than we should. These things might be time-consuming and expensive - but they do not threaten the direction of our lives. They do not demand something from us.

But what's with the guy who won't go near the church? What's he afraid of? Is it something about that baby? Somehow that child in the manger is different. People who have no problem anywhere else, have some strong emotional reaction about walking into the church. That's one way of avoiding dealing with the child in the manger. And I wonder if someone might walk every day past the nativity scene in the park, or on someone's front lawn, and see that Christ-doll, and eventually just say, "I'm going to take that baby out-of-sight someplace." Just...don't want that baby looking out at me. Reminding me of stuff. Knowing me. Calling me. Inviting me. Something about that baby is just too intense.

Don't you think sometimes that God could have done this much differently? If his idea was to bring salvation to the earth, then he could have done it in a much neater way. The Old Testament prophets certainly pictured it - "0 that thou wouldst rend the heavens and come down; so that the mountains would quake at your presence. . ." That would have been the way to do it. Forget about being a little child somewhere. Come as a great warrior that everybody has to pay attention to. Nobody can avoid. Shock and awe - that's the way to go.

But God chose a different way. God chose a crying, needy, disruptive baby. And I think that must have something to do with love. And when people see that baby in the manger, there may be many emotions and reactions, but one of the ones you have to work through eventually is the intensity of love. If that is God's Son in the manger, then what an act of love - to come into this world and be born vulnerable and poor, in a barn.

Sooner or later, every one of us has to decide how we will respond to that love.

I believe that God is speaking a special message for each person in this Christmas season. Have you heard it yet?

A Catholic priest once told me of the experience he had the first year after his beloved brother Mickey died. He had loved his brother, and everywhere he looked, everything he did - nothing erased the pain of being without Mickey. But he knew he had to get through it, so he kept going through the motions of pastoring his church through the holidays. At Christmas Eve mass, he noticed a gift basket on a table in the vestibule. When he asked about it, he was told that the care team had accidentally packed one too many baskets. They left it in case he had one more family that might need it. No one came to mind, so he took the basket home with him. Exhausted from a full and emotional day, he sat quietly, feeling deep sorrow, when the phone rang. We know it's awfully late, said the parishioner, but we have just become aware of a neighbor with very little this Christmas. Is there any help that might come from the church?

The priest sighed and took the address; he dressed and went out into the wintry night;

He drove to the house. He was surprised when he rang the doorbell, at such a late hour, that a young boy answered the door. The priest asked for the boy's parents, and the boy, mature beyond his years, explained that his mother had worked late, but he would go wake her. "No," said the priest. "No need to do that. I just want to leave this basket from the church." And the boy's eyes widened with an expression of joy as he looked at the basket of fruit, cookies, and small toys. He thanked the visitor for the gift.

And the priest went to turn away, but then, following an urge, he said, "Young man, may I ask you your name?" And the boy smiled and replied, "My name is Mickey."

I believe God knows the cry of every heart this Christmas. I believe there is a moment when God will speak to you, through a phone call, or a stranger, or an unexpected event, or an inner realization, or a beautiful ray of sunshine - some moment when God will let you know that grace has come for you. That's the message of the Christ-child. Grace is born for you. And somewhere in this season, God will share it with you, just as my Catholic friend found God's grace in a little boy.

The question will be what you do with that grace? Because make no mistake about it, if you let it in, it has to change you. Better to avoid that steepled building. Better to tuck that nativity baby somewhere out of sight. Because such intense love has to disrupt everything - your priorities, your dreams, your schedule, your budget, your relationships, your world. If God didn't mean to change things, then why come in the first place? If Jesus was just going to tinker a little with the world, and with your life, then why did he die on the cross to do it? Wouldn't it be sad if God sent the most amazing love the world has ever known, and you and I respond by living our lives exactly the same way we always have?

It may be that you have felt empty or overwhelmed or sad this season. Maybe you have been rushing around, and have hardly had a chance to catch your breath, much less to contemplate the message God is speaking to you in these days. But don't miss this Good News. Unto you a Savior has been born. God has sent just the gift you have needed. Jesus has turned the world upside down. God did that for all of us; that means He did it for each of us. That means He did it for you. And I believe he wants you and me to walk from this church this morning with new hope, with new joy, with new life.

What does that mean exactly for you? God knows. But it must at least mean that you say Yes to grace. And let love guide your steps. And look past the hoopla, and quietly welcome the child of Christmas in your heart.