The people who have walked in the darkness have seen a great light, and that light is Christ the Lord! Christ the Lord, God come down to us, to be a human like us so that we might hear and see how God feels about us in words and ways that we as humans can understand. We are not gods after-all, and not being gods, I think it is safe to say that none of us inherently understands the ways of the Lord.
My cat Kit also is not a god, though being a cat she surely thinks that she is. That is not quite true; with most cats that would be the case, but Kit, our small, grey, obedient, striped cat does not see herself as a God. My wife and I are her gods. We send manna from the heavens that magically makes its way out of the Walmart Special Kitty Bag into her dish. We send rain down into her water dish and her cup overfloweth; providing for her thirst. We have led her to soft areas through the house, my bed, my chair, my blanket…we have led her to the soft pastures of our blankets and furniture and she is given the chance to relax and restore her kitty soul.
I say “given the chance” because I’m not sure how completely she is able to restore her kitty soul. You see, no matter how much I show her love by feeding her, giving her water, and petting her, she still fears me. She fears my feet in particular. Apparently, some other god that was given the opportunity to take care of this little creature did so with an iron foot. She had obviously been punished in the past by heavy feet and no matter how much love I give her today, she is still fearful that she will be punished instead of loved.
What if I could become a cat like her? What if I could take on the flesh of a cat and, in a cat sort of way, tell her that I am not that punishing god that she fears, instead I am a loving god that forgives and pets? I would surely need to come as a submissive, servant cat; one who turns over and exposes the belly, and takes on the job of cleaning her feet and ears and face. I could not come as the king of the cats, or she would simply continue to fear me. I would probably have to hang out with other downtrodden cats so that she could gain my trust and finally see, in that cat sort of way, that I can love a hurt and broken cat such as her. I wonder what God would do to prove to us that we are special and loved, even though we are broken?
A story comes to mind; one whose familiar old ring hums with new resonance this night. It’s a story about a loving God who wants nothing more than to tell each person that they are still loved. These are people who were personally molded and shaped by God, but who now have some scratches and chunks broken out because of someone else’s or their own carelessness. In an attempt to deliver this message, this God passes over Emperor Augustus and Governor Quirinias and the palaces in which they live, and settles instead in the little town of Bethlehem, in a cattle stall, as a baby. This baby will not grow up to be a great, rich, and powerful king. Instead, this baby will be a servant. He will wash the feet of those he loves. He will serve them while in pain and heal their wounds. He will feed them with a feast of love that will nourish and bring life to long hurt and hopeless souls. And, maybe, just maybe, when those broken people come into contact with him, they will finally believe that God is loving all the time. God is not the one who broke and hurt them in the first place. Perhaps, all creation will finally see and understand that God is loving all the time. In the story, it is hoped that such knowledge of great love will have a profound effect.
Will it work? I don’t know. But, the future looks good. Three smelly, dirty, despised shepherds have felt welcome enough to enter into the stable and visit this God as a child. They have been seen coming from the stable with joy on their lips and praises of God on their mouths. Maybe, just maybe God’s plan is working and broken, hurt sinners such as themselves are being forgiven and healed. Maybe, just maybe, when you go to the Lord's Supper and Christ comes to you in the humblest of meals, bread and wine, and you hear those most precious and loving of words “broken and shed for you,” you too will leave with joy on your once broken lips and praises on your newly restored mouth.
Come to think of it, as a pastor on Christmas Eve who is telling the story of Christ coimg down to be with broken and dirty people, I’m dressed a little too nice. This nice white alb with all of its intricate designs seems a little too rich and great doesn't it? Maybe I need to reconsider how I present myself for Christ’s sake and for the sake of those who cannot dress so nice. Sometimes I wonder if the bearers of the Christmas story dress too nice. It would be a tragedy if Christ’s followers made themselves appear better than the one born in a stable and surrounded by smelly scoundrels. God chose to come as one of the lowest, so that the lowest might hear the good news of God’s love. Who am I to question God?
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