Room for Christ?

[This sermon was shared during the 11:00pm Christmas Eve Candlelight Worship service at Saint Matthew Lutheran Church in Logan, Ohio.]

Luke 2:1-20
“And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7)

That is the stark way that Luke the evangelist chooses to tell us about the birth of Jesus, the Savior of the world, God-in-the-flesh.

The simplicity of Luke’s description contrasts sharply with that other Christmas, the Christmas celebrated by the wider world, the loud Christmas that blares, “Buy this,” “Borrow that,” and “Grandma got run over by a reindeer.”

That Christmas has launched thousands of different product lines, generating millions for entrepreneurs, songwriters, and retailers. It’s rife with glitzy extravaganzas, dazzling displays, movies with awesome special effects, and loud parties.

And you know what? There’s nothing inherently wrong with that other Christmas. In the phrase from the old song, “in the bleak midwinter,” a time of grey skies and cold temperatures, the lights and the color of that other Christmas are probably something we can all use, especially in a time of economic distress and difficulty. So, I’m not knocking it.

But, really that other Christmas—the Christmas of absorbing electronic games and of kisses that “begin…at Kay’s”—that Christmas is only you and I howling at the moon. No matter how many times we sing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, no matter how much we buy, give, or get, no matter how much we laugh or egg nog we knock back, that other Christmas is just a season on the calendar, a diversion along the way.

I don't mean to be indelicate on Christmas Eve, but that other Christmas cannot change the fact that we are sinners alienated from God, in need of a Savior.

It cannot show us that that Savior has come with, as another of our Christmas songs puts it, “healing in His wings.”

The other Christmas has little to do with Jesus, the miracle child who would go to cross and tomb to share our deaths so that when He rose, all who follow Him, can look forward to sharing His resurrection.

Luke says that Jesus had to be delivered in a stall, probably a cave like the one in which He would be buried on a Good Friday less than thirty years later. The reason was simple: There was no room for Mary, Joseph, or Jesus in the inn.

No room.

But how much room do we give to Jesus even when we aren’t feeling overwhelmed by that other Christmas?

Do we give room to Jesus when He tries to confront us for the sins that would separate us from Him?

How about when He tries to assure us of the forgiveness we feel we don’t deserve?

Do we give Him room when He tries to guide us in the ways of justice and compassion for our neighbors, of sacrificial giving, of marriages and purity according to God’s plan?

Do we give Him room enough to let Him speak to us in times of prayer, as we listen to Scripture, when we worship God together, or when we receive Holy Communion?

Many Christians I know spend lots of time and energy lamenting how others seem bent on “taking the Christ out of Christmas.” Often though, these same people are little more than Sunday morning Christians, people who will not give Christ room or time in their lives.

But in this year of financial crisis and recession, I harbor a hope that we’ve been re-acquainted with the fact that the only thing of enduring value in this life or the next is the Savior Whose birth we celebrate tonight.

Jesus and the life that He gives to all who turn from sin and turn to Him eternally outlasts all the money, the houses, the mortgages, and the comforts this world might momentarily provide. Those who throw in their lots with Jesus outlast the seemingly important stuff of this world as well.

Life that never ends, true happiness, and the power and blessings of God in us and for us are among the gifts that Jesus brings.

And this Jesus who is marginalized, sentimentalized, and often forgotten by the other Christmas, is emphatic in saying that only He can offer these things. “I am the way and the truth and the life,” He tells us. “No one comes to the Father except through me.”

In this year in which bad news seems to come to us every day, we have good news this Christmas. It’s put well in a favorite Christmas hymn: “where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.” Other good words for meek might be wise, insightful, realistic. The meek soul is the one who realistically understands that we need Christ.

May we always be meek enough to recognize our need of Christ and to let Him in. When we make room for Jesus Christ, He enters into the places and circumstances that we surrender, that we pray for, for which we ask His help.

If we let Christ into our lives, Christmas—the real Christmas—will happen in our lives not only on December 25--which after all is just a date the early Christians chose because it already was a Roman holiday--but all through the year.

Merry Christmas, everybody!