Adore-able

Sermon for SMHP, Christmas Eve 2018

Luke 2:1-14

          In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. ²This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria.

          ³All went to their own towns to be registered. ⁴Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. ⁵He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child.

          ⁶While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. ⁷And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

               ⁸In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. ⁹Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.

          ¹⁰But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: ¹¹to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹²This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” ¹³And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ¹⁴“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace.”

          A burning bush.

          A pillar of cloud by day and pillar of fire by night.

          A talking donkey.

          A “still small voice.”

         

          God has found a lot of ways to appear before human beings.  You might even say God has a flair for the dramatic. 

          And maybe I’m biased, but I think there is no more dramatic tale of human beings encountering God than the one which opens Luke’s gospel.  There’s all the buildup—angelic visitations to Mary and Zechariah, travels across the Judean countryside, poetry.  The poetry may only be dramatic for the English majors among us…

          Then there’s some political intrigue.  “A decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered.”

          Joseph and Mary must travel to Bethlehem, the original City of David. Jesus is born, and lain in a manger…”because there was no place for them in the inn.”

          Add shepherds, angels, and a heavenly host, and this thing is ready for Broadway.  Or at least countless low rent church productions starring six-year-olds in bathrobes looking shepherd-y.

          Just one thing seems out of place in this grand drama. 

          The baby.

          I mean, after all of the pomp and circumstances around this moment of divine inbreaking, doesn’t it seem a bit odd that God would choose to become incarnate as a baby?  Not so dramatic.  Babies are born every day.  They’re not so…you know, huge.

          God could have been the most perfect human ever born, sort of a cross between Idris Elba, Mother Teresa, and Patrick Mahomes.  Go ahead and take a minute trying to picture that.

          We know God was trying to be like us, so no pyrotechnics—no pillars of fire or raging bush fires. 

          But a baby?  Why would God choose to become known to us in a whole new way, as a newborn?  A newborn is so…vulnerable. 

         

          And that’s why, right?  God has done powerful.  It wasn’t so incarnational, really.  This time God wanted to become like us, and let’s be honest, we’re pretty vulnerable.  We can be hurt, physically, emotionally, spiritually.  We try to hard to be safe, that sometimes we make the world more dangerous.  What else but our profound vulnerability has created the gun culture that makes us all less safe?

          In being born a tiny baby in a space meant for animals, Jesus became truly like us—profoundly vulnerable…

          …and profoundly adorable.

          We are all willing to stipulate that Jesus was adorable, right?  By which I mean not just “cute.”  He was adore-able.  People came to adore him.  People are still adoring him.  We sang about it at the beginning of the service, right?  “Oh, come, let us adore him, Oh come, let us adore him, Oh come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.”

          Jesus may have been a vulnerable little baby, but he created quite a stir when he was born. 

          An angel told some shepherds and then a “multitude of the heavenly host” showed up and the shepherds left their hillsides and became the first to adore him.  And people have been adoring him ever since.  The more you get to know him, the more you want to adore him. 

          From the moment he was born, Jesus was vulnerable and he was adorable.  Because God wanted to remind us that we are both of those things and it’s okay.  God sent us a savior because God knew that we would never be able to overcome our fragile nature.  But God also wanted to remind us that God doesn’t just love us…God adores us.  God delights in us.

          This Christmas, as you think about the birth of Jesus, I want you to remember that he was born because you are adorable.  In fact, I want you to say it, out loud:  “I am adorable.”

          I am adorable.

          You are adorable, and you are adored.  It is the point of incarnation.  It is the point of this night.

Amen