Christmas, we are told, is a time of fullness
It is a time of stockings, filled with gifts; of full plates for feasting; of glasses full with champagne.
But at the heart of the story of Christmas story there is not fullness but emptiness.
God, in the words of one of the first followers of Jesus Christ, emptied himself in order to become a human being.
Jesus lived at a time when they told stories about gods who became human beings.
But those stories told of gods who became human beings to spy out what men and women were doing; in order to do amazing superwoman, superman acts - just like Thor in the Marvel films; in order to seduce mortals with their beauty or strength. In other words, they come down in their fullness to have a party, to use their godness to their advantage, to be godlike!
But the Christmas story is very different.
In the Christmas story we have God quite literally emptying himself.
He comes from heaven, but as a baby, ‘the infant, mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms’ as Shakespeare put it.
And he is not born in a palace. He is not born to a family destined to rule. He is instead born to a peasant man and woman, in a politically sensitive but what seemed to be an insignificant land, and his human destiny was not glory but shame, death by crucifixion.
At Christmas we remember that God pours himself out for us, becomes empty for us.
The one who is bigger than, beyond all time, is born in a moment of time and becomes subject to time
The one who is omnipotent - who has all power - strips off his power and becomes powerless
The one who is omnipresent - who created all things, who includes all things and fills all things in all places, is wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger.
The one who is omniscient - who does not only know all things, but who is wisdom, who is truth - is born without words, without the ability to speak or think.
We just watched A series of Unfortunate Events. The baby speaks baby language. Jim Carey, who plays the most wonderfully evil villain, looks disdainfully at her as she chunters away and says scornfully, ‘I don’t speak monkey’.
Well, God speaks monkey
God strips himself of power and glory, a bit like someone taking off the most stunning ball gown, in order to put on worker’s dungarees, so that she can go out and clear the drains.
God empties himself.
But there is one thing that God does not empty himself of - and that is love.
The Father empties himself and gives his only Son to us, out of love
The Son empties himself of all the things that we think are godlike, and becomes a baby, one of us at our most vulnerable, in order to woo us.
He invites us to come to him, to know him, to be in communion with him.
He identifies himself with us in our emptiness.
It is a time of stockings, filled with gifts; of full plates for feasting; of glasses full with champagne.
But at the heart of the story of Christmas story there is not fullness but emptiness.
God, in the words of one of the first followers of Jesus Christ, emptied himself in order to become a human being.
Jesus lived at a time when they told stories about gods who became human beings.
But those stories told of gods who became human beings to spy out what men and women were doing; in order to do amazing superwoman, superman acts - just like Thor in the Marvel films; in order to seduce mortals with their beauty or strength. In other words, they come down in their fullness to have a party, to use their godness to their advantage, to be godlike!
But the Christmas story is very different.
In the Christmas story we have God quite literally emptying himself.
He comes from heaven, but as a baby, ‘the infant, mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms’ as Shakespeare put it.
And he is not born in a palace. He is not born to a family destined to rule. He is instead born to a peasant man and woman, in a politically sensitive but what seemed to be an insignificant land, and his human destiny was not glory but shame, death by crucifixion.
At Christmas we remember that God pours himself out for us, becomes empty for us.
The one who is bigger than, beyond all time, is born in a moment of time and becomes subject to time
The one who is omnipotent - who has all power - strips off his power and becomes powerless
The one who is omnipresent - who created all things, who includes all things and fills all things in all places, is wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger.
The one who is omniscient - who does not only know all things, but who is wisdom, who is truth - is born without words, without the ability to speak or think.
We just watched A series of Unfortunate Events. The baby speaks baby language. Jim Carey, who plays the most wonderfully evil villain, looks disdainfully at her as she chunters away and says scornfully, ‘I don’t speak monkey’.
Well, God speaks monkey
God strips himself of power and glory, a bit like someone taking off the most stunning ball gown, in order to put on worker’s dungarees, so that she can go out and clear the drains.
God empties himself.
But there is one thing that God does not empty himself of - and that is love.
The Father empties himself and gives his only Son to us, out of love
The Son empties himself of all the things that we think are godlike, and becomes a baby, one of us at our most vulnerable, in order to woo us.
He invites us to come to him, to know him, to be in communion with him.
He identifies himself with us in our emptiness.
But that means that we can only identify with him when we recognise that we are empty.
We can make that connection with God, but it is only when we are willing to realise before God that we are a child, a baby before God;
We can make that connection with God, but it is only when we are willing to realise before God that we are a child, a baby before God;
Jesus said that nobody can enter the Kingdom of heaven unless they become like a little child.
A child has no claims, no clout. They are completely dependent on their parents.
And we can make that connection with God when we become a little child before God. When we are prepared to simply trust him, to trust him that he loves us as Mary loved that baby.
It is when we stop trying to prove ourselves, and when we are prepared to pour out all the false things that we put our hopes in (our status, our wealth, our possessions, our intelligence, our strength, our beauty) and recognise our vulnerability and our dependence - that we can meet with him.
That might sound hard, but it may be easier than you think.
There are times when we are brought face to face with our vulnerability, our frailty. It is when we meet an impossible challenge, or when we are sick or face serious conflict or are exhausted, or experience shame or moral failure or financial crisis or when we confront death.
I am also aware that many who are foreigners in Russia are increasingly aware of their vulnerability here - vulnerability in the face of a global pandemic, of constantly changing international travel regulations, of changing visa laws and a deep uncertainty about what the future holds.
And it is when we recognise our weakness, our mortality, our sinfulness and our need for Saviour - that we will discover that God is very close to us, and that God, in his deep love for us, meets us in our emptiness.
We read again this evening of the wise men from the East.
Tradition has turned them into three kings. And they come to the home of Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem and they kneel before Jesus Christ, the baby.
Why would we kneel before another person?
Why would we humble ourselves by bowing before another person?
Why would we make ourselves vulnerable in front of another person – because that is what kneeling means.
Well, we might kneel before someone out of fear: they are so awesome and if we do not kneel, we will be in serious trouble.
Or we might kneel before someone out of love: ‘would you marry me?’
I suspect that the wise men knelt before Jesus because of both.
A child has no claims, no clout. They are completely dependent on their parents.
And we can make that connection with God when we become a little child before God. When we are prepared to simply trust him, to trust him that he loves us as Mary loved that baby.
It is when we stop trying to prove ourselves, and when we are prepared to pour out all the false things that we put our hopes in (our status, our wealth, our possessions, our intelligence, our strength, our beauty) and recognise our vulnerability and our dependence - that we can meet with him.
That might sound hard, but it may be easier than you think.
There are times when we are brought face to face with our vulnerability, our frailty. It is when we meet an impossible challenge, or when we are sick or face serious conflict or are exhausted, or experience shame or moral failure or financial crisis or when we confront death.
I am also aware that many who are foreigners in Russia are increasingly aware of their vulnerability here - vulnerability in the face of a global pandemic, of constantly changing international travel regulations, of changing visa laws and a deep uncertainty about what the future holds.
And it is when we recognise our weakness, our mortality, our sinfulness and our need for Saviour - that we will discover that God is very close to us, and that God, in his deep love for us, meets us in our emptiness.
We read again this evening of the wise men from the East.
Tradition has turned them into three kings. And they come to the home of Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem and they kneel before Jesus Christ, the baby.
Why would we kneel before another person?
Why would we humble ourselves by bowing before another person?
Why would we make ourselves vulnerable in front of another person – because that is what kneeling means.
Well, we might kneel before someone out of fear: they are so awesome and if we do not kneel, we will be in serious trouble.
Or we might kneel before someone out of love: ‘would you marry me?’
I suspect that the wise men knelt before Jesus because of both.
They knelt, yes because of fear. They recognized that this baby was none other than God Almighty, the one who is creator and ruler of all, the one who controlled the stars, the one who had brought them from the east, the one who holds the destiny of all in his hand.
So they knelt as obedient servants to God.
They say to him, you are God, the true ruler, and you are our Lord.
But I think that they also knelt out of love. Because they recognized that this child was God who had emptied himself and become like one of them, who had come to them, and that the heart of this child burnt with love for them and for all people, not just at that time, but for all time - including you and me today.
And so they knelt in love. They said, ‘We make ourselves vulnerable before you and we will do whatever you ask us to do, we will go where you ask us to go, we will become who you ask us to become – not because we have to, but because we want to; not out of fear, but out of love’.
May I suggest that you do something!
Later this evening, when you go home, go to a quiet room and imitate the wise men.
Humble yourself and kneel down before the Lord Jesus Christ, kneel down before the one who is the Lord and kneel before the one who emptied himself of everything, and became a human baby, out of love for you.
Because it is at that moment, when we empty ourselves, and in our emptiness we meet with God, we discover that he wants to fill us.
Not with food or drink or stuff – although the Kingdom of Heaven is described as an amazing banquet.
So they knelt as obedient servants to God.
They say to him, you are God, the true ruler, and you are our Lord.
But I think that they also knelt out of love. Because they recognized that this child was God who had emptied himself and become like one of them, who had come to them, and that the heart of this child burnt with love for them and for all people, not just at that time, but for all time - including you and me today.
And so they knelt in love. They said, ‘We make ourselves vulnerable before you and we will do whatever you ask us to do, we will go where you ask us to go, we will become who you ask us to become – not because we have to, but because we want to; not out of fear, but out of love’.
May I suggest that you do something!
Later this evening, when you go home, go to a quiet room and imitate the wise men.
Humble yourself and kneel down before the Lord Jesus Christ, kneel down before the one who is the Lord and kneel before the one who emptied himself of everything, and became a human baby, out of love for you.
Because it is at that moment, when we empty ourselves, and in our emptiness we meet with God, we discover that he wants to fill us.
Not with food or drink or stuff – although the Kingdom of Heaven is described as an amazing banquet.
But he does want to fill us with his peace and joy and his love and life.
Comments
Post a Comment