December 24, 2016
Sage Story | Christmas Eve 2016
- Isaiah 9:2-7
- Rev. Dr. Jerry Deck
Throughout scripture there is this fascinating connection between light and Jesus coming into this world. When Luke tells the story, as we have been hearing this evening, we are told that the angels appeared before the shepherds and that the glory of the Lord shone them (in other words there was a bright light all around them). In Matthew, of course there is the bright star that the wise men follow to find the young Jesus. Even in John, who doesn’t start the story of Jesus in a typical narrative fashion, describes Jesus’ coming to earth in this way, that “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.” And in the Isaiah text I just read, one that we as Christians believe points toward the coming of the Messiah, we are told that “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness-on them light has shined.” The scripture writers again and again and again point to this beautiful metaphor that Jesus is the light of the world, that he has come to bring light into the dark places, be they out in the world or even deep within us.
And we as Christians have taken up this connection between the coming of Jesus and light. It’s why many of us light an Advent Candle during this season as a part of our worship. We put lights on our trees that, at least historically, are symbolic of either the star that pointed to Jesus or for Jesus himself. And, of course, on Christmas Eve we gather together as a community, we sing “Silent Night” and someone will light the center Advent Candle, called the Christ Candle, and from that every single candle will eventually be lit, lighting up the whole sanctuary. It is this beautiful imagery that moves us without question. And yet, as inevitably happens when we use an image so frequently there are times when I wonder if we really think about just how important light is, especially in our day and age when light is so easy to come by with the flip of a switch or the turn of a knob.
I told this story earlier this year, but as I thought about light this week it was the one story that kept coming to my mind and so I want to share it once more and then I won’t share it again for at least 6 months. I had spent a summer in Fairbanks, Alaska, and while it was an interesting summer when my time was up I was really ready to get back to the “lower 48” as they say. And so one day I ended up driving around 1,000 miles which, on the winding roads of rural western Canada took me about 20 hours. It had been a long day and I was getting pretty bored and so after it got dark I decided it would be fun to turn off the headlights and bring some excitement into my journey. And so I did and it…was…awesome. I mean out in the middle of absolute nowhere it was pitch black. You couldn’t see a thing. At first I turned the lights off quickly and then turned them right back on. But then, when that seemed to work fine and the adrenaline from one second of being in the dark wore off, I decided to do it for a couple of seconds…and then three…and then four… you get the idea. The last time I did it, I’m not exactly sure how long I had the lights off, it felt like a minute, but it was probably more like 6 or 7 seconds, but I turned my lights back on and standing out in front of me on the road was a herd of reindeer (with Santa Claus nearby). No, I added that. It wasn’t even reindeer, it was a herd of caribou, but nonetheless I slammed on my brakes and swerved to the shoulder and fortunately the caribou sauntered off, not overly impressed by my fun game in the dark.
I did not, of course, do that again, but what I learned were two things. First, that was a really dumb thing for me to do (which as an aside, apparently there are a lot of dumb guys around because I had a lot of them come up to me after I told that story and tell me how they had done the exact same thing when they were younger.). Secondly, I learned that light is not just some warm, good, fuzzy thing, but can be the difference between life and death, hope and despair, moving forward in your journey or coming to an abrupt crash.
When the scripture tells us that Jesus is the light of the world, it’s not just saying that Jesus is the cozy mood light that you have in your living room or a lava lamp or even the Christmas lights you put on your tree, you know, the lights that don’t really matter, but the ones that make you feel good. Jesus is the headlight that keeps us moving in the right direction, the spotlight that helps us to see who we are and how we are to see others. Jesus is not just a light that just makes us feel cozy and warm, he is the light that we desperately need in what is oftentimes a dark place.
I realize that a Christmas Eve service is often one when we have a lot of visitors for one reason or the other. Perhaps you live elsewhere and are visiting family and so have come with them this evening or maybe your congregation doesn’t have a Christmas Eve Service or perhaps, or you’re back home from college or maybe, just maybe there are one or two of you here who were guilted into coming by your mom or dad. Whatever the reason is, if you aren’t here much then let me take this opportunity to say what I say with some regularity from behind this pulpit which is that Jesus was born into this world for you. And what is critical for you to see is that it doesn’t matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done or what dark places you are trying to disguise, the light of the world was born to go into those dark places, not to shame you, but to embrace you, not to guilt you, but to love you.
Again, as I tell our folks regularly, it is so easy in an area like this to try and act like you have no dark places, that your relationships are perfect, that your finances are in the black, that your dreams are all coming true, that you have no fears, no anxieties, no self-esteem issues to speak of. Sometimes it’s hard to accept the light and love and grace of the one who was born in Bethlehem because we are too busy pulling our curtains over those places we’d prefer no one, perhaps even ourselves, to see. And my hope and prayer tonight is if that is you (and quite frankly at points in our lives that is most of us), that when your candle is lit this evening that you would have the courage to echo the 139th psalm that says, “Search me oh God and know my heart, test me and know my anxious thoughts.” That it might be a time for you to welcome in the light of Christ, to ask what it might look like for you to stop hiding those dark places and welcome in the love and grace of Jesus. Jesus was born into this world for you.
But if Jesus, the light of this world, was born onto this earth for you, it is also critical for us to remember that means he was also born into this world for the person next to you, for your neighbor, for the family members you like, and the ones you dislike, for the one who voted the same way you did and for the one who voted differently for you, for the one you understand and the one you don’t. When we see people in the light of Christ we see them differently, we see them more clearly as God sees them, as his creation and that matters, that changes the way we love them and the way we act towards them. If it doesn’t, then we may want to consider whether we are seeing them through the light of Christ or whether we’ve allowed the darkness of our world to be the lens through which see the world. And so tonight when your candle is lit perhaps this would be a time for you to look at that flame and perhaps picture that person you struggle with on the other side of the flame and ask God to help you to see him or her through the light of Christ. How might that change what you think, what you say, what you do?
There is just one last thing and quite frankly it’s probably the reason why I decided to ask tonight whether or not we understand that the light of Jesus really matters and that what we’re doing tonight when we light up our candles is not just to feel a warm fuzzy glow. Earlier this week Scott Shelton sent me this picture. It’s a picture taken of a candlelight service, much like the one we are having here this evening, in a Presbyterian Church, much like this one right here, full of people following the light of Jesus Christ, much like this one right here. The only difference is that this candlelight service is taking place in Aleppo, Syria, the battered, war-torn city that has filled the airwaves of late. It’s a service of peace that happened a few months ago in this sanctuary that was rebuilt after their previous one was destroyed. I’ve kept this picture up on my computer this week and I kept going back to it because the desire for them to embrace the light, to yearn for the Prince of Peace, was so palpable that I could feel it tugging at me, challenging me to remember the importance of what we are doing here this evening. That the light of Christ penetrates into our hearts, that it changes how we see one another and that it changes how we see the whole world, calling us to reflect the beauty and love and light of Christ wherever we go. That’s important. It’s gospel important.
That doesn’t mean it’s wrong for the candlelight service to warm us or make us feel good or remind us nostalgically of our doing this when we’re younger, but it does mean that it can’t stop there. That Jesus, the light of the world, was born not just to make us feel good, but to love us, to change us, to change the way we see one another, and to change how we understand the world. The light of the world was born 2,000 years ago to take away the darkness of the world- be it sin or depression or broken relationship or war and we are called to embrace the light and to reflect it, so that others may stop hiding in the darkness. “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” May the light of Christ give us hope in the dark places in our lives and in our world. May it be so. Amen.