George J. Saylor
(This sermon was presented in dramatic form as a first-person narrative. The person is none other than God. While I was hesitant at first to take this perspective, the biblical account gives so much insight into the birth of Jesus, and into the character or God, that I ultimately determined that this could be done in a reverend and faithful way.)
This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.
But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”
All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” — which means, “God with us.”
When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus. Matthew 1:18-25
I love that child . I so want to help him. He is so full of anger; so full of pain. He wasn’t always this way. I remember watching him play. Watching him discover the beauty and joy of the world- of my world. He could sit for hours watching the ants at work- wondering, just wondering. What were they doing? What drove them to work so hard? And nobody loved the stars as much as he did. At night, when none else was awake, when it was only the two of us, we would stare out into the night sky wondering, and marveling at it all.
To me it is as yesterday, but for him it was a lifetime ago. The memories of good times are buried so deep now. Huddled there in the corner, trying to go unnoticed. Trying to become part of the scenery, lest he become part of the violence again. It really is remarkable how quickly kids learn to become unseen- I made chameleons to blend in, but children are meant to stand out, to be noticed and celebrated.
He is so cold, sitting there in the draft of winter, wrapped in pants that are too small, and a jacket that is too big- both too dirty to be seen in public. He is so dirty too. It’s been a week since he had a hot shower after gym class. That was the last time he had a hot meal as well. Some kids love Christmas breaks, any break, any time to be away from school and with family. And he used to feel that way too. Before school was the only warm place, the only place to cleanup, the only square meal he would eat all day, the only safe place.
Safe place? That’s a relative understanding. The other children mock him mercilessly. Each day is a strategic exercise in avoidance and survival. Teachers that once cared for him, started to feel sorry for him, but now, they just don’t know what to do. Some try to help, in small ways they do. But what can they do to really change his world to good again?
But I still see him. And I know how to build a fire. I know how to clean a dirty rag. I know how to fill an empty stomach. I can be a safe place.
I love that woman. I so want to help her. She is so lonely, so hopeless. She wasn’t always this way. She used to be so full of hope and joy. She was the life of the party. People were just drawn to her. All sorts of people. Her laugh was infectious. When you told her stories or a joke, you knew she really cared- she was actually interested. When she asked, “How are you?” She really wanted to know how you were. And so when she talked to you, you were interested too. Why is that so rare among people today?
But it was her family that was most important. She loved her husband and her children with selfless abandonment! Her husband adored her; her children, well, their mom was their world. But all that has changed now. Now she wakes up everyday to her worst nightmare, a living reality. It’s always hardest for her this time of year. It’s been so long since she laughed. So long since she asked anyone, “How are you?” So long since anyone took the time to ask her. So she sits in her chair, rocking back and forth. She tucks her knees to her bosom. She looks like she is still comforting a child, but now she is the child looking for comfort.
She hasn’t eaten, but she’s not hungry. She hasn’t been out of the house in days, but she’s not looking for anything to do. She hasn’t talked to another person in ages. She only wants to talk to the ones that can’t answer her now. If she could exchange her life for theirs it wouldn’t even be a question. But that’s impossible. People try to comfort her and say things like, “They will always live in your memories.” They mean well, but I know that’s of little comfort. What are memories compared to flesh and blood? What are memories compared to their laughter? They only serve to sting the wounds of her lose.
But I still see her. I remember how to laugh. I want to ask how are you my child? I know what it means to give life, and to have life taken away.
I love that guy. I so want to help him. He’s so afraid, so insecure. It wasn’t always this way. We used to talk. He looked to me for guidance and help. He wanted to make a difference. He was going to truly live his faith and his values. Talk about an idealist! He was going to change lives and change the world!
And he had everything going for him- talent, education, and opportunity- the world was his oyster. He was climbing the ladder as they say. Making a name for himself, and making a family. A trophy wife. 2 beautiful kids. A house to die for. A cottage at the lake. It just started to take over his life. The only problem was that after a while, he started to believe his own image.
Oh it didn’t happen over night. It never does. You don’t lose your dreams fast. It’s a long process, a slow, steady wearing down. You make one allowance, then one exception, then change one habit, tweak one value. Pretty soon the years have passed by, and you’re a different person. You’re doing things, saying things, being things you never thought would happen. Everyone changes, every one must grow and learn and mature. But in the process the world just seems to squeeze so much of the good stuff out too.
He just keeps doing now. Doing all the work, going through all the motions. Even the motions of our relationship. He still goes to church, when he’s in town. He certainly makes sure his kids are involved. And that’s good. It makes him feel good. It takes his mind off some of the harder questions. It takes his mind off the fact that he knows he’s blowing it. That he knows his kids are growing up without him. That his wife is growing away from him. They’ll stick together for the family. But they are just going through the motions of the relationship too. He’ll be a great provider, and that’s what a father does, or so he tells himself. Sometimes he almost believes it, believes that providing excuses his presence. He just doesn’t see that he’s losing them- losing them to the world. And that he’s losing himself in the process.
But I still see him. I’m still here to talk, to lead, to give him a purpose. I know what it’s like to feel the pressure of the world weighing on your shoulders, and I know how to overcome.
I love that girl. She sits, warming herself by a fire in a humble home in Nazareth. To you it was 2000 years ago, for me it is as if it’s still unfolding. She’s such a good girl. She’s young. She’s so young. Can she really accept what must be? Is this too much for her? Is this too much for anyone? I know she can, for I know her. If she were any older, maybe she wouldn’t have the faith to believe that what is impossible for man is possible for me. With age comes wisdom, but with youth comes the faith to simply say, “Yes.” Yes Lord, may it be unto me as you have said.
She dreams of an ordinary family and an ordinary life. It will be far from that. The angel visit, the birth, the visitor’s from far away lands, an escape to Egypt, a return to their homeland. Life will never be the same for her, or for Joseph.
Joseph is such a good man. I know I’ll have to send Gabriel to him as well. He’ll be prepared to do what he knows is the right and honorable thing to do, when you find yourself engaged to a girl who says she’s a virgin, but is obviously pregnant. How could anyone be expected to believe such a tale?
They’ll be married soon, but by then it will be too late. This must take place now. And it must happen this way. I know she won’t understand, how could she? How could any one of my children? But this isn’t about understanding how it’s going to turn out. It’s about faith, faith in how it’s going to begin.
This is the way it must be. If I tried to walk along side of her, she would think it was an earthquake, that the ground itself would swallow her. She’d only run away in fear.
If I tried to speak to her, she would think my voice alone would incinerate her. She’d only close her ears in terror.
If I showed her my glory, she would think the world itself had come to its end. She’d only hide her face, and she’d ask me to hide mine.
If I only sent my messenger, she could still doubt my love. No, I’ve gone that that route before. I know that some things must be done in person- in flesh and blood.
So I will come to her, by her. And then, then she will know my love as I grow inside of her womb. With each passing day she will know my love as her skin stretches tight. With each passing week she will know my love as each kick reminders her, I am with you. With each passing month she will know my love, even as the people around her question the kind of love she has known.
She will know my love as she brings my life into the world. I will be her flesh and blood. So now, when I first walk along side of her, it will be in the first steps of a child. When I first show my face to her, she will look and see her own resemblance. When I first speak to her, it will be in the cooing of a tiny baby. When I come to her, I will be her own son. Then she will know my love.
And even thought I am the author of her life, she will be the one to bring my life into the world. And even though I am the spring of living water, she will first nurse my life. And even though I am the bread of life, she will first nourish me and fill my empty stomach. Even though I know the plan for her life, she will teach me how to walk and talk and read and write. Even though I know her inside and out and every day of her life, she will come to know me, inside and out, an every day of my life, from my birth in a manger in Bethlehem, to the day I will give my life on the cross. As she gives her life over to me, I will give my life for her, and for all my children, so that the sins of my children may be forgiven, and that they may truly know I love them. This is how it must be. This is how it will be!
I love a child. And I will come to him. I will come to him because I love the little children and the orphans and the outcasts of this world. I will come to him, and then he will know my love.
I love a woman. And I will come to her. I will come to her because I love the widows and the broken and the hurting and the hopeless. I will come to her, and then she will know my love.
I love a man. I will come to him. I will come to him because I love the rich and the poor, the haves and the have-nots, the ones who remember me, and the ones who forget. I will come to him, and then he will know my love.
I love them. I love them all. And so I will come to them. I will come to them all- men and women, young and old, rich and poor of every tribe and nation, I will come them and be with them because I am the wonderful counselor; I am Almighty God; I am the Everlasting Father; I am the Prince of Peace. I am the Christ. I will come to them. I will break the silence and my first words to them will be the cry of a tiny babe…
No comments:
Post a Comment