
The Light Leading Out of Darkness
DATE: December 25th, 2005
SERVICE: The Nativity of Our Lord
TEXT: John 1:1-14“To all of you Saints here this morning, grace and peace to you from God our Father, from His Son, Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit. AMEN
I do not recall the "will worship services be held on Christmas Day, a Sunday" debate ever happening before this year. Christmas Day has been on Sunday a number of times since I became a pastor, but until this year the question of whether or not worship would be held never came up, or at least not in the national media. I'm guessing that most of you are aware of this discussion. It began when several evangelical mega churches around the country announced that they would cancel services today. These are massive places, trend setters, and their decision was noticed; it became a topic of discussion on morning television news shows and in newspaper articles. The question was: Is not having regular Sunday worship because it's Christmas Day bowing to secular culture or does doing so simply acknowledge that people need to spend time with their families (which is the reason most often given for the decision)? Keep in mind, though, that many Catholic, Episcopal and Lutheran churches have a Christmas Day service - following a full schedule the night before - regardless of the day of the week on which it falls. As you might guess, I could really get on a soap box about this, particularly because I'm guessing that the reason those mega churches are not having worship has to do with economics. They run huge operations with lots of staff and facility costs; if attendance is too low it has an overwhelming negative impact on their budget. I'd rather hear that explanation than one about supporting families, but I could be wrong. In fact, I'm yielding to temptation by even bringing it up because as I thought about this debate I realized that if it highlights anything it is how we do not grasp the significance of the event we are celebrating. The fact that we have to decide whether or not to worship is a sure sign that we do not "get it". Please listen again to these astounding words from the Gospel of John, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth." I just want to let those words hang in the air for a moment while we contemplate what they imply. However the world was created, which is another topic of debate in the world recently, the Gospel writer is telling us that the one whose birth we celebrate was present as light and life came into being. In other words, he - Jesus - is the very source of life and light in a world that, because of human choice, can be overwhelmed by darkness. We all have known darkness. We know darkness in our physical lives when illness or death are close at hand, or when the basic necessities of life are lacking.
We know darkness in our emotional lives when we are burdened by worry, confusion, fear, grief, guilt and hopelessness. We know darkness in our social lives when relationships fail and the blessing of solitude gives way to the burden of loneliness. We know darkness in our political lives when our leaders fall short and a just society seems to be nothing more than a dream. We know darkness in our spiritual lives when God seems far away, when prayer and worship seem nothing more than empty exercises. In our lives we do indeed know darkness. It could be compared to what happens when the artificial lights are turned off in a cave. I have had this experience several times, but the one I remember best occurred in the Cave of the Wines in Colorado Springs when I was five years old. I was enthralled by the stalactites, the oddly shaped lumps of rock, and the knowledge that bats were hiding in the crevices. However, when the guide had the tour group stand still, and the lights were extinguished, I was frightened and clung tightly to my mother's hand. It made no difference if your eyes were opened or closed, it was all the same … utter, profound darkness. If the guide had asked us to find our way out of the cave without any light, it would have been impossible to do so. Any attempt would have been futile since we could not see the hazards, the slippery places, or tell the difference between a five-foot or a 50-foot drop. What a difference it made when the guide turned on a tiny flash light. It cast enough light to push back the darkness, and to illuminate the pathway out. That is what the creator of light - who came among us in human form - does for us; Jesus illuminates the pathway out of the darkness. Just as the cave visitors would not think of taking one step without the guide's light, we should be that thankful for, and relieved (yes, relieved) to follow the one who is our Light. And because God chose to be revealed in a human body, it's easier for us to understand and to follow. (You'll note that I said easier, not easy.) I think that the words of Max Lucado that I included in my e-mail news message this week are so true. "The tongue that called forth the dead was a human one. The hand that touched the leper had dirt under its nails. The feet upon which the woman wept were callused and dusty. And his tears…oh, don't miss the tears…they came from a heart as broken as your or mine as ever been. So people came to him." (1) They came to him because he was a touchable, approachable, reachable person who in some inexplicable way shown with light and people did not fear rejection by him. That baby whose arrival on earth we celebrate today is the light and life of creation made accessible to us. Can you imagine? So, why are we debating about whether we should gather together two days in a row to celebrate this great gift, and more fully grasp his deep, quiet transforming power? It's even a question because we do not "get it". But, thankfully, there is always light shinning in our direction, so perhaps one day we will "get it". (1) The Gift for All People by Max Lucado, Multnomah Publishers: Sisters, Oregon, 1999, pgs. 27-28
AMEN