Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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Seven hundred years before Jesus, the prophet Micah predicted a very unlikely thing: that pitiful little Israel (languishing, at the time, as a puppet state of Assyria) would be given a new king. He would be a shepherd king, like King David of old. And, Micah said, this new king would show up in a very unlikely place: Bethlehem (David's town). He would be recognized not just among his own people, the Jews, but "to the ends of the earth." And he will be "one of peace." The early Christians, centuries later, picked up on Micah's prophecy, saying it foreshadowed the coming of Christ.

Who would have thought that Christ, the Messiah, would come in one horse Bethlehem? Who would have dreamed up such an unlikely story? Who would have had him born in a stable and not in some fine hotel, with room service, and chocolate on the pillow? Who would have given him peasant folk for parents, and had him sleep in a manger and be wrapped in rags? A very unlikely thing! The story is too familiar to us. We've lost the irony of it. We've lost its power. And yet the story of his coming is more than a Christmas tableau. That he came and how he came is quite central to our faith.

Some Christians Emphasize the Cross, Others the Manger

Those of us in the Western half of the Christian Church (sometimes called the Latin church) -- over the years have tended to emphasize Christ's crucifixion, and have, therefore, taken as our central symbol the cross. Orthodox Christians (in the Eastern or Greek Orthodox Church), on the other hand, have tended to emphasize Christ's incarnation, his coming, and often take as their central symbol the manger. So we don't want to trivialize the story of Christ's birth with too many cute Sunday School pageants and pristine nativity scenes and miss its importance. It is not everyday that angels sing in the sky and God touches his world in such a way. "For thou, Bethlehem, art not the least among the cities of Judah (I should say not, Micah!), for out of thee shall come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel."

Never So Unlikely That God Cannot Do It

The Bible is full of unlikely things. That Sarah should bare a child to Abraham in their old age. (Weren't for that, we wouldn't be here today. Abraham's peculiar faith in his desert God, Yahweh, would have died with him. No descendants.) That Moses should defeat Pharaoh and lead the Hebrew children to safely across the Red Sea. Very unlikely. That the Jews should actually be given the land God promised their ancestors centuries before, and be given it again after the Exile in Babylon, and yet again in our time! That Christ should be born in a place like Bethlehem. That he should feed five thousand people with five loaves and two fish. That the church should be founded on the backs of twelve untrained and uneducated people. That Christianity should prevail over the Roman Empire. Unlikely. All very unlikely!

Each story has its own meaning, but the connecting theme is that God can do, and will do, whatever he wants to do in this world. Life is not a closed system.  Everything is not decided. We are not like dominos or billiard balls, our courses pre-determined. There is spontaneity, there is freedom, there is inspiration, there is surprise, there is hope, there is God.

Christ May Come In the Bleak Mid-Winter of our Souls

Christ often comes to us in unlikely times, when our faith is at low tide, as Christina Rosetti put it, he comes "in the bleak mid-winters" of our souls. When snow has fallen, "snow on snow," when the earth is "hard as iron" and water is "like a stone." Or, as someone else put it before that, Christ comes "when half spent (is) the night." In the very center of our darkness. You see, it is not only the message he brings, which is good news indeed, but (just as important) is that he breaks in with it. His grace is proactive. He reaches out to us when we are not of a mind to reach out to him. For when people are discouraged, locked in that hopeless room out of which there seem to be no doors -- when we cannot help ourselves, that is when he comes. At a most unlikely time.

In a real way, Christmas itself renews and lifts my faith each year. When I have almost succumbed to the cynicism of this world, when I have almost accepted the media's version of life (as an unending march of dog eating dog). Christmas comes just in time. Christ breaks in. And people all around begin to express love, they decorate their homes, worship together, join families and friends. To me Christmas says, "Yes, we are busy, we are sinful, we are capable of doing terrible things to each other, and we can be (and often are) hurt, but (at the same time) we have not forgotten the hope of our race, the baby of Bethlehem. If, like Scrooge, we cannot find the spirit of Christmas, our years are long and gloomy.

The Word Of God, Given to Us in Christ, is Love

The Word of God in Christ, which broke in upon us that first Christmas and continues to break in upon us at the most unlikely times, that Word (which we see in Christ's birth, in his teaching, in his living, in his dying, in his rising), that Word of God in Christ is a Word of love. Which is also very unlikely, if you think about it: that this should be what God has to tell us. Love is so weak. Love is so risky. We don't consider it one of our best resources. Some people are hurt so badly in love, they can never love again. And all of us have learned to guard love, like some precious treasure within us that must be protected and doled out (if at all) in tiny portions, and then only when we are sure it will be reciprocated.

Love is Meant to be Given Away Freely

But the most amazing things happen (the most unlikely things) when we give love away. And love, we discover, is far more powerful than we ever thought. Living in love, of course, entails trusting God. But how can we not trust God and live lives of love, when we see the pure love of Christmas -- Mary's childlike acceptance of the angel's message, the poor young couple forced into a stable, the shepherds adoration, the wise men's gifts. The Christmas story is a parade of love. That's why we come back to it each year. There is God's love for mankind, expressed by the angel chorus. There is the love of husband and wife, parent and child. There is even our love of animals and their love for us. There is humanity's love one for the other, a love that transcends race, and nation and social class. The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee, O little town..

When we have our portraits taken by a photographer, we often ask that small changes be made, that the gray hair be darkened a little, that that mole beside our nose would simply disappear, or the nose itself be straightened, or that extra chin removed. I guess that's not so bad. We like to see ourselves, and have others see us, at our best. The Christmas story is a portrait of humanity at its best -- and it is not fake, not something accomplished in a photographer's dark room. It was unlikely, but it happened. So it is not unreal. And the fact that we keep returning to it is evidence that this portrait, this nativity scene, is the way we want to see ourselves. Loving each other and being loved by God.

The Manger is a Show-Stopper, Matching our Ideal Vision of the World

I don't know your circumstances today. I don't know if you are experiencing some bleak mid-winter in your life, or if you are, at this moment, living on the sunny highlands. I do know that people cannot simply live. They must live for something. And I don't know anything or anyone better to live for than Jesus Christ. I don't know a better portrait of how I want the world to be, or how I want to be myself, than the portrait of Bethlehem. If you know a better one, then you must follow it. If not, why not join us in worshipping Christ, the new born king?