O Come Let Us Adore Him!

     At 7:00 on Christmas Eve we will be gathering to celebrate the incarnation. The service will be simple and sweet. We will hear from the Prophet Isaiah and sing ancient songs in good company.
     We'll celebrate communion in our pews for a change, and there's a reason for that.
If Jesus was not who he said he was there's no reason to celebrate his birth and Christmas is a bizarre occasion. If Jesus isn't who he said he was then millions of people devote a month out of the year to gifts, calories and parties to mark the birth of a lying, delusional Jewish carpenter who died two thousand years ago.
     But, on the other hand, if Jesus is who he said he is then what we're celebrating isn't really the sweetly iconic manger arrangement. We celebrate the discovery of Jesus in a manger for the same reason that Abraham would have celebrated the discovery of a ram in the thicket. Before Jesus could be lifted up on a cross he had to be laid down in a manger, and it is the cross that gives the manger whatever significance it has.
     Christmas is incredibly humbling because I have to admit that there's something unseemly about my celebration. Basically what I'm saying at Christmas is "Let's have a party because I'm off the hook for my sins: God's willing to avoid killing me even though I deserve it by killing his own son even though he doesn't. And if that doesn't call for eggnog I don't know what does."
     In that light, the whole affair starts to look ugly and shameful.
     But if Christmas is humbling, it's also incredibly uplifting. It's uplifting because neither the Sacrificer nor the Sacrifice were the least bit reluctant about the whole thing. In fact, the Sacrifice undertook the project "for the joy set before him." And my relief and joy at the prospect of salvation, even a salvation coming at so great a cost, is right and proper because God invited me to feel this way. He sent his angels that night to set things straight, to make sure we knew it was alright to be happy about this. "Do not fear," they said. "Do not be weirded out. Do not be conflicted. God's doing this on purpose. He wants to save you. Go crazy."
     So we'll take communion in our seats, as passive about the bread coming to us as the world was about Jesus coming two thousand years ago. And in the act of eucharist we will shorten the distance between the manger and the cross to the width of a piece of bread.
And we'll dim the lights to light our candles and sing Silent Night and wonder at the sweet gravity of it all.  I can't wait.

     And Sunday morning (Christmas morning) we will be worshiping together at the regular time of 10:00, but it will be a very casual service and a little briefer than normal. Come as you are (even if it means pajamas) and worship the newborn King.