And the Word Became Flesh

My sermon from our Christmas Eve service last night:

 

Our final scripture passage for tonight comes from John 1:1-18.  John begins his gospel by offering us a vision of Christmas that looks past the nativity scene, past censuses and stables, past shepherds and angels, at the cosmic significance of this day, because today God became human; God came to dwell with us in order to set in motion the re-creation of all the universe.  For today the creator of everything returns as a part of the creation in order to re-make the world from the inside-out, in order to offer us a glimpse of true humanity, in order to shine the true light that enlightens everyone into the deepest corners of darkness.

These words are the best news you will hear, so do whatever you need to do to listen well to the book that we love.

“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 came into being in him was life and that life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.

There came a man sent from God whose name was John.  He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all people might believe through him.  He himself was not the light, but came to testify to the light.  The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and the world was created through him, but the world did not know him.  He came to his own, and his own people did not accept him.  But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he has given power to become children of God, born not of blood, or of the will of the flesh, or the will of any man, but of God.

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.  (John testified to him and cried out, “This is he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’”)  From his fullness we have all received grace upon grace.  No one has ever seen God, but it is God the only son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.”

And the Word became flesh.

And the Word became flesh.

The Word, in Greek: Logos, which means: word, reason, rationality, wisdom, the principle of order and knowledge that holds the world together.

That Word was in the beginning, it was by that Word that all things came into being, that all things were made, that every single thing in the universe was stitched together, ordered, and brought to life.

That Word was with God, that Word was God.

And it’s that Word–glorious, radiant, divine, incredible, the Word that reigns over all things and holds all things together–this Word became flesh.

The Word became flesh, and lived among us.

In the Church we call this the incarnation, which I always remembered in college because in Spanish, carne means meat.  The Word became flesh, the Word put on flesh.

And this is the reason we gather together tonight in this place and celebrate in joy, not because this baby was cuter than all other babies, not because the scene was so picaresque that we still like to remember it, not because of Santa or presents, but because the Word was made flesh and came to live among us.

Now I think we need to just back up for a minute and realize how insane that is.

It’s crazy.  There are probably some of you who have already dismissed me because of how ridiculous it sounds—that there would even be one who stands outside of time and before time, that there was one through whom all things were made, that there was one who was before all that is, that there was an intellect behind the making of everything, one that wove together the fabric of the universe, who spoke and there was.

And that even if one like this existed, that it should become human, like us.  That the one who is from everlasting to everlasting would step into this world, that one who created thousands of globes more glorious than ours would have chosen to become one like us and walk with us.  It is nonsense.

To claim that a small child born in a barn in Bethlehem 2000 years ago was in reality the one through whom all things were made, that this one is in reality the wisdom undergirding the universe?

To believe an all-powerful God exists, to believe that that God would ever choose to lay all that power aside and be like us, and to believe that a poor, unimportant baby in a feeding trough is actually that God.

This is ridiculous.  It is foolishness.

And yet, if this Word, this Word who was before all things and in all things, this Word who became flesh, if this Word is Logos, reason, logic, order, then our reason is re-made in this Word.  Then this child is actually the wisdom that would turn foolishness upside-down. Christ is the mystery of God, and all the treasures of wisdom are hidden in him, for as John says, “No one has ever seen God, but it is God the only son, who is close to the Father’s heart, that has made him known.” Then the mystery we call the incarnation is the first sane thing we’ve heard in a life chasing after foolishness: “And the Word became flesh, and lived among us.”

The Word who was before all things, the Word who created all things, the Word who is God, put on human flesh.  And why?

Why?

Because having been given life is His name at the beginning, and having slipped into darkness and death, we could only come to find life again if we were re-made in him.  If humanity was taken up by him and made whole once again, made new, made everlasting.

Because we are a people who dwell in darkness—in the constant shadow of violence, war, inequality, selfishness, excess, and want—and we need the light of the world, the light that enlightens all people, the light that shines in darkness and the darkness cannot overcome, to come.

Because, in the end, of love.  Because the one who made you, who knit you together, could not bear to be away from you, could not bear the idea that one whom he loved would slip away from His love, and so the Word became flesh and dwelled among us, and we have seen His glory, the glory as of a Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth.

God has come to be with us, the virgin has given birth to a son and His name is Immanuel—God with us.

“God with us,” words so sweet and so profound that only poetry can capture their beauty.  And so I leave you with the words of a preacher far better than I, with this piece of a sermon first preached over 100 years ago tonight by Charles Spurgeon:

““Immanuel.” It is wisdom’s mystery, “God with us.” Sages look at it, and wonder; angels desire to see it; the plumb-line of reason cannot reach half-way into its depths. The eagle wings of science cannot fly so high and the piercing eye of the vulture of research cannot see it! “God with us.” It is hell’s terror. Satan trembles at the sound of it; his legions fly apace, the black-winged dragon of the pit quails before it. Let him come to you suddenly, and do you but whisper that word, “God with us,” back he falls, confounded and confused. Satan trembles when he hears that name, “God with us.”

It is the laborer’s strength; how could he preach the gospel, how could [she] bend [her] knees in prayer, how could the missionary go into foreign lands, how could the martyr stand at the stake, how could the confessor acknowledge his Master, how could men labor if that one word were taken away? “God with us,” is the sufferer’s comfort, is the balm of his woe, is the alleviation of [her] misery, is the sleep which God gives to his beloved, it is their rest after exertion and toil. Ah! and to finish, “God with us,”—it is eternity’s sonnet, it is heaven’s hallelujah, it is the shout of the glorified, it is the song of the redeemed, it is the chorus of angels, it is the everlasting oratorio of the great orchestra of the sky. “God with us.”

And so let us shout for joy, let us join in with the angels who celebrate tonight the climax of all history!  For when we were still far off, when we were lost and didn’t know the way home, home came to us: “The Word became flesh and dwelled among us, and we have seen His glory.”

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