Due to the nasty cold, I didn't get to preach at my appointed time on Christmas Eve. If I had, this is what I would have said. I'm indebted to Ann Weems for the inspiration.
"Unexpected"
The Rev. Lauren McDonald
Christmas Eve, 2019
Unexpected
by Ann Weems
Even now we simply do not expect
to find a deity in a stable.
Somehow the setting is all wrong:
the swaddling clothes too plain,
the manger too common for the likes of a Savior,
the straw inelegant,
the animals, reeking and noisy,
the whole scene too ordinary for our taste.
And the cast of characters is no better.
With the possible exception of the kings,
who among them is fit for this night?
the shepherds? certainly too crude,
the carpenter too rough,
the girl too young.
And the baby!
Whoever expected a baby?
Whoever expected the advent of God in a helpless child?
Had the Messiah arrived in the blazing light of the glory
of a legion of angels wielding golden swords,
the whole world could have been conquered for Christ
right then and there
and we in the church – to say nothing of the world!–
wouldn’t have so much trouble today.
Even now we simply do not expect
to face the world armed with love.
This poem by Ann Weems captures the unexpectedness and the scandal of the Incarnation.
Whoever expected a baby?
A savior with power and might? Yes.
A conquering Messiah? Sure.
A victorious king or ruler? You bet.
A poor helpless baby dependent on parents for everything? Uh…
A vulnerable Messiah in a diaper? Well…
A savior who doesn’t even save himself? Definitely not.
No one expected him in the way that he came.
And even knowing how he came, we still don’t expect him.
When I first read this poem earlier in Advent, it was the last line that caught me like a punch in the gut:
Even now we simply do not expect
to face the world armed with love.
We arm ourselves with many things in an attempt to protect ourselves and our loved ones. And it’s understandable. It’s a dangerous world out there.
So we arm ourselves with guns and weapons, with alarm systems, fences, and walls, trying to keep the danger out.
We arm ourselves with money and things, staving off the fear that there will not be enough.
We arm ourselves with hostile words, with our sense of self-righteousness. The other side is wrong, and we are right.
We arm ourselves with sarcasm and cynicism; no one’s going to get one over on us or see how much we care.
We arm ourselves with false smiles so that no one can see how we’re hurting.
We arm ourselves with our intellects so that no one will know how vulnerable our hearts are.
Much as we try, the armor does not protect us, nor does it keep us safe. Not from physical harm. Not from emotional harm. It may give that illusion for a while, but ultimately it will fail.
Sisters and brothers, the goal isn’t to be safe. If it were, God would have stayed put and never come to live among us, never come to be God with us.
The way of God is the way of love.
When we are armed with love, we are not safe. People can and will hurt us. We will be vulnerable.
When we are armed with love, we will go places we never expected to go, meet people we never dreamed we’d meet.
When we are armed with love, our hearts are soft and our arms are open. We embrace the other, we admit when we’re wrong, we accept that we are not in control.
God came as an infant. It’s completely crazy. Absolutely unexpected. Can you imagine anyone less in control than a baby?
But when you look in the child’s eyes, you see the love.
You know yourself to be loved. You know the world to be loved. You know God’s love.
This Christmas my prayer for each of us is that we will discard the weapons and armor that no longer serve us and that we will instead wrap ourselves in the cloak of God’s love.
When we do, we will find ourselves singing joyfully with the angels, Glory to God in the highest heaven. O come let us adore him.
