Many years ago, I attended church at a friend’s place of worship. The pastor in that church was a slight man, but with a booming voice. He held in his hands a large black Bible which he referred to numerous times through out his sermon. His hands at times would hammer the pulpit and his voice raise to drive his point home. He spoke of sin and sinners and judgment.

I doubt there was very much if anything that he said that I did not agree with. But the more I listened to him, the more he seemed to be just so, so very angry. His words did not seem to me to come from a place of love but out of fear. As  his voice grew louder and louder, I had the feeling he was desperately attempting to convince us of something he secretly feared no one would believe, including himself.

A funny thing happened in that service. There was a young mother in worship and she had a baby that she held in her arms. The baby's eyes were the brightest blue eyes and in that brightly lit church, those eyes just glistened. The mother held that beautiful child and it cooed and smiled and laughed.

Soon the pastor’s words were all in the background, as I found myself enchanted with that little baby, drawn in to the playfulness, the innocence, the joy of that loving child who also could have cared less about the angry sounds coming from the pulpit. I looked up and realized that everyone in sight and sound of that child was, like me, no longer listening to the preacher, our hearts melting by the vulnerability of that child.

How does God come to us? How does God seek us out? Is it with anger and fear and threat? Or does God come to us and draw us in like that child - open and exposed, joyful and playful, wooing us into relationship?

As we read again the Christmas story, there is one eye catching facet in the way Luke, the gospel writer, paints this story for us: the humbleness of Jesus’s birth. It is so intricately and beautifully painted on the canvass of Luke’s version of the story. There is Mary, the young girl, who was engaged but unmarried when she learned of her pregnancy - so very exposed in her culture to condemnation. And yet, she trusts the word of the angel and receives with joy God blessing her life.

There is Joseph, who despite the humiliation, believes the word of the Lord, takes Mary into his life and in his heart.

Both of them together, forced to travel in the later days of her pregnancy, by a remote Roman imperial government, who has no regard for the poor citizen of their kingdom. Mary and Joseph are simply pawns to be moved around by the whims of indifferent rulers.

There are the shepherds - the first to hear the good news of the birth, but the last in their culture in terms of their value and esteem. The later words of Jesus that the “last will be first” are literally fulfilled in their coming to the manger.

There is the dirty, grimy stable and manger, filled with animals and the smell of animals and musty wet straw. Humility is everywhere to be seen in this story. Luke wants us to know, that in this birth, God has acted, but not as anyone would have expected. The fortunes of all are already being reversed.

Then there is the baby Jesus. In so many of the ancient paintings of the nativity, Jesus even as a baby is already specially endowed with a knowing wisdom and with the light of a halo around his newborn head. It is not that the painters have gotten the picture wrong. They paint not history but their faith in the uniqueness of this child and his importance in our lives. But what is remarkable about the story itself is that it is through an ordinary baby in which God comes to bring us salvation. Jesus comes as a common baby, one like the babies born everyday into families.

So step in the Maternity ward, the nursery in the hospital. Look at all those tiny babies, with their itty-bitty fingers, swaddled in warm blankets. You are standing at that window trying to figure out which one is your family’s baby. You struggle to see an identification bracelet, but it is twisted around. And there is this gorgeous baby. Yes, yes, that has got to be her. The nurse see you standing out there, recognizes your face, picks her up and next thing you know you are holding that little child, that bundle of joy in your arms and your heart is just melting with awe and love.1

In that moment - what has gone on in your life before - really does not matter. The future is not your concern in those minutes in time. Your present circumstances outside that ward - do not matter at all. Your heart, your mind, your life has been opened, laid bare by the joy of that little child.

That is how God comes to us - that is how God seeks us out. In such beautiful vulnerability of the baby Jesus, God finds a path to our hearts. What we have done and what we have left undone - has been forgiven. In whatever challenge we face in our life - God is with us. Be we happy or depressed, fearful or excited, relaxed or angry, because of this child - we are now simply beloved. God’s love now has entered into our hearts and a new possibility for life has been born in us.

Right now, this evening is God’s invitation to you to let go. Allow the anger and the fear and guilt to melt away. Let down our guard, if just for a while, to feel love again. Let go our preoccupations with getting it all right, of being perfect. Let go of the mind game of attempting to figure God out. Let go our fears about God or ourselves or about other people. Let go our resentments and hardships. Just for this precious, wonderful moment, allow ourselves to forget all that and be drawn lovingly into the beauty of this God who comes to us as a child.

And when we allow ourselves to be so touched - the Christ is not only born into our world - he has been born into our hearts.

Let us pray. In the magic of this moment - open each of our hearts, Loving God, that your love for us may be born. Before you we bow in awe and amazement. Amen.

1 Fred Craddock, “Have You Every Heard John Preach?,” A Chorus of Witnesses, Thomas Long, Cornelius Plantinga, p43