Jesus took on what it means to be human and all the beauty and pain associated with that. Jesus knows our pain and gives us permission to not hide from our humanity.
Vicar Natalie Wussler
Christmas Day
Texts: Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 98; Hebrews 1:1-4; John 1:1-14
Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Yesterday, we marveled at the baby born in the darkness of night. At the angels who sang songs of peace on earth. Of the shepherds who ran from their flocks to greet this infant, and the risky love that reverberates through this beloved Christmas story. And today, John gives something very different. “The word became flesh and lived among us” John says. These words aren’t just an interesting theological point that we can debate over. These words are world-altering reality. The Almighty and everliving God had spoken to people through angels, through kings, and prophets to connect with people. And now, God is getting personal. God didn’t send a messenger from afar to declare God’s word, nor did God show up as a transcendent spirit. The Word of God, who has had skin in this game since before time began, put on skin and reached out to us in a new way.
“And the Word became flesh,” John says. These four words are the wonder of Christmas. That Jesus, the very radiance and representation of God’s being, would put on flesh and become fully human. He was the visible expression of the invisible God, speaking to us in a language that we could understand, identifying with the frailties and tragedies of being human. God was getting up close by becoming a person. The omnipotent, in one instant, was breakable. God who was larger than the universe became an embryo that grew in a womb for 9ish months, amidst amniotic fluids, and was born as an infant. This word, the one who sustains the world, chose to be dependent on a young girl. And this holy and saving arm of God transformed into a baby’s grasping hand. Jesus took on everything that flesh entails, weariness, thirst, joy, and the full pallet of human emotions complete with laughter and tears.
“And the Word lived among us.” Jesus dwelt in the world, “moved into the neighborhood,” as Eugene Peterson of the Message Bible translation says. Jesus was not just an observer of this human story. He fully stepped into our world–in this messy, painful, and beautiful world. This world hurt Jesus as it hurts many of us. He felt the pain of rejection and abandonment. Jesus knows the sting of death and grief. Jesus has been there. And now, we know God through the way the person of Jesus lived in the world, the people he loved, the stories he told, the gruesome human death he suffered, and the resurrection of his human body.
God was not afraid to be a human. But the same can’t always be said for us. Because in so many ways, we hide our humanity. We hide the things that make us look weak. We cover our wrinkles with anti-aging cream. We deny ourselves rest in favor of pushing through and getting a job done. And sometimes we’re not honest with ourselves about how hard life can be. Especially around this time of year, when families gather, Christmas lights shine in shades of neon, when radios blare holiday music that commands us to “have a Holly Jolly Christmas,” being honest with ourselves, with our pains is just that much more difficult. We fear exposing our shortcomings, and hide them away for no one else to see. We build up these walls that separate us from each other, and we all end up feeling like no one else knows our pain.
But God-made-flesh and dwelling with us says that we worship a God who knows all that makes us feel weak and knows the pain we want to keep close to the vest. Jesus looks at you in everything you go through and whispers “me too.” Jesus, being part of the trinity, takes his experience as a person and brings it into the heart of the Triune God. We have an empathetic God who gets us and all of the tragic, weird, and beautiful parts of being human.
If you are approaching this afternoon or this week anxious that you will not be accepted as you are, Jesus gets it.
If you are looking forward to leaving this place and spending your day in the warm embrace of loved ones, Jesus gets it.
If you are feeling alone or rejected this Christmas season, Jesus gets it.
If you are despairing at the state of the world, Jesus gets it.
If you are doubting if God is even listening to you, Jesus gets it.
Jesus has been there.
This God-child we witnessed being born last night can relate to what we go through. We don’t have to hide ourselves. We can come out of the shadows and experience the light and healing that is found in the word-made-flesh. We can bring everything to God, Our pain, our brokenness, and our vulnerability., and trust that Jesus will meet us where we are, saying “me too” and walking with us all our days.
Last night, as the lights dimmed and the church was all shadows, one candle shined, and slowly, more candles lit and the room was brighter. We could see each other. And that’s what happens when we are honest with ourselves and each other. And as we are empowered by our vulnerable, empathetic God who weeps and laughs and is tangible, we can embrace the very human parts of ourselves and realize that the world needs those parts of us. This world needs our stories. So we can come out of hiding and live as our authentic selves. And we, too, can look through tears into the eyes of the other, be vulnerable, and whisper “me too,” and call each other out of hiding to assure each other that we are not alone. And no amount of secrecy, shame, or suppression can overcome the love that is shared when communities of people live in vulnerable authenticity and all are accepted with open arms. We can encourage each other and release God’s empathetic love for us into the world, one vulnerable moment at a time, following in the footsteps of the Word-Made-Flesh.
In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
