The Sounds of Christmas, Salvation (O Holy Night), Christ Church Christmas Eve Sermon, December ...

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weekly worship at Christ Church in Bethl

Park, Pennsylvania. We're a United

Methodist congregation with the mission

of building inclusive community, sharing

Christ's transforming love. To learn

more about the church, including how you

can join us for worship online or in

person, visit christummc.net.

Thank you for listening.

Good evening.

Today's scripture reading is Luke 2:es

6-20.

While they were there, the time came for

the baby to be born. And she gave birth

to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him

in cloths and placed him in a manger

because there was no guest room

available for them. And there were

shepherds living out in the fields

nearby, keeping watch over their flocks

at night. An angel of the Lord appeared

to them, and the glory of the Lord shone

around them, and they were terrified.

But the angel said to them, "Do not be

afraid. I bring you good news that will

cause great joy for all the people.

Today in the town of David, a savior has

been born to you. He is the Messiah, the

Lord. This will be a sign to you. You

will find a baby wrapped in cloths and

lying in a manger."

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly

host appeared with the angel praising

God and saying glory to God in the

highest heaven and on earth peace to

those whom his savior rests favor rest

excuse me. When the angels had left them

and gone into heaven, the shepherds said

to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem

and see this thing that has happened

which the Lord has told us about."

So they hurried off and found Mary and

Joseph and the baby who was lying in the

manger. When they had seen him, they

spread the word concerning what had been

told them about this child. And all who

heard it were amazed at what the

shepherds said to them. But Mary

treasured up all these things and

pondered them in her heart. The

shepherds returned glorifying and

praising God for all the things they had

heard and seen, which were just as they

had been told.

hear what the spirit saying to the

church.

>> Thanks be to God.

>> Thanks, Aaron. Well, merry Christmas,

everybody.

>> Merry Christmas.

>> I'm Pastor Chris. I'm senior pastor here

at Christ Church. I got a I got a

question. You ever noticed how uh most

nights just kind of blur together,

right? Dinner, homework, laundry, one

more email, one more scroll, one more

thing on the to-do list. And then when

you finally sit down, before you know

it, it's over. You go to bed and you get

up and do it all again the next day. Is

that anybody here or just me? Right. We

we get into that rut. But every once in

a while, there is a night that slows us

down. A night that just feels different.

A night that makes us pause. A night

that may even feel holy.

That's the kind of night we sing about

when we sing, "Oh holy night, the stars

are brightly shining." But let's be

clear, on that very first Christmas

night, it wasn't holy because it was

calm and quiet. Bethlehem wasn't

peaceful. It was crowded. It was messy.

It was noisy. It was over booked. There

were long lines. There were full houses.

There were frustrated travelers. There

were tired parents. And the locals,

well, they were all upset because their

town was fuller than it had ever been

because of this census that Rome

required them to have so they could

figure out their tax structure. And into

that night comes a young couple just

trying to find somewhere, anywhere, to

rest. That night was holy for one reason

and one reason only. God showed up. Not

in a palace, not with fireworks, not

once everything was put together. God

showed up right in the middle of the

chaos. The angels announced it like

this. Today in the town of David, a

savior has been born to you. He is the

Messiah, the Lord. Every word in that

verse matters. A savior because we need

rescue, not advice. a Messiah because

God keeps God's promises even when we

stop expecting them. And a Lord because

this child wasn't meant to just inspire

us, but to lead us and to claim us and

to reign in our lives. Notice what it

specifically says. A savior has been

born to you. Not to perfect people, not

to people that have it all together, but

to tired shepherds, to overwhelmed

parents, to a crowded town, to a weary

world. That night was made holy, not by

the setting and not by the silence, but

by the presence of God showing up where

people actually lived. And that is still

how God works today. Holiness isn't

found when our lives finally slow down.

Holiness happens when God shows up right

in the middle of our ordinary, crowded,

messy lives. That is the good news of

Christmas. Tonight isn't holy because

everything is perfect. Tonight is holy

because Christ is here. Amen.

I mean, tonight we celebrate a holy

night for a tired world. When we sing,

"Oh holy night," we sing long lay the

world in sin and error pining. That's

not just poetic fluff. That's actual

honesty. I It's the kind of thing that

you might not really understand until

you lived a little, right? Until you've

carried some disappointment, until

you've watched the people that you love

start to seem fragile and falling apart.

Until you've waited for answers that

never seemed to come. You see, that

night when the Savior came, the world

was worn out. People were living under

Roman law. Taxes were crushing them, and

they were just going to get worse after

this census. Hope was thin. Families

were doing their best just to survive.

And more than anything, people were

wondering if if God had gone silent. And

that can easily happen when you haven't

heard a prophetic message for over 400

years. And here we are over 2,000 years

later, still tired and worn out, tired

of the news, tired of division, tired of

feeling like everything is either

breaking or being argued about. Tired of

juggling schedules and expectations and

obligations.

Tired of pretending that everything is

fine when it really isn't. Now, maybe

some of you walked in here tonight and

you're not tired and you're not worn

out. You've had a great year. There's

laughter in your house and there are

things that you are genuinely grateful

for. Others of you may have walked in

here carrying grief. You know, an empty

chair at the table, a first Christmas

without someone that you love, a new

diagnosis, a loss, or or a prayer that

hasn't been answered yet. Others of you

are maybe just hoping you can make it

through this service without tearing up.

You're not even sure why you came in the

first place. Well, I'm here to tell you

that Christmas did not arrive in a

perfect world. It never has. It arrives

in a weary world, just like the one we

live in today. That's why the angel's

words matter so much. We're reminded

that today a savior has been born to

you. Not eventually, not someday, not

when life finally settles down, not

after the mess is cleaned up, not once

we have figured everything out, but

today. right here, right now. In the

middle of fatigue, in the middle of

loss, in the middle of fear, in the

middle of unanswered questions, and in

the middle of chaos. You see, God didn't

wait for the world to be ready. God came

to the world when it was tired and worn

out. That's the good news of Christmas.

When the world is tired, when hope feels

delayed, when hearts are heavy, that's

exactly when God shows up. Tonight is

not a reminder of just what happened a

couple thousand years ago. It's a

promise for right now. A savior has been

born to you and to me today.

Now, we do got to remember that we were

sent a savior, not a self-help plan.

Notice what the angel does not say. The

angel does not say, "Behold, a

motivational speaker has arrived.

Behold, a life coach has been born.

Behold, a best-selling author with five

tips for you to fix your life right

now." The angel says, "A savior has been

born to you." Because the world didn't

need any more advice. It needed rescued.

We already know what we should do. We

should love our neighbors. We should be

patient. We should forgive. We should

slow down. We should trust God more and

we should worry less. Knowing what to do

is not the problem. The problem is we

don't always have the strength to do all

of that. We know the right thing, but we

still fall short. We try and we still

mess it up. We promise ourselves this

time will be different and then life

happens. And that's why God didn't send

us a to-do list. God sent us a person

because we don't need more tips. We need

grace. We don't need more pressure. We

need forgiveness. We don't even need

more willpower. We need hope that

doesn't depend on how strong we actually

feel. And then here's the part that

changes everything. A savior has been

born to you and to me. Not to the

powerful. Not to the people that are put

together. Not to the people who always

seem to have everything figured out. I

mean, look at who the Savior went to

that first night. Shepherds working the

night shift. Young parents who had no

plan and a tired and waiting and worn

out world.

The Savior was sent to you and to me

right here, right as we are. Not after

we clean ourselves up. Not after we

promise to be better. Not after we get

our life back on track. You see, the

good news of Christmas is we're not

expected to save ourselves. A savior has

already come. He has been born for us.

And that leads us to the thrill of hope

that we sing about in Oh Holy Night. The

thrill of hope. the weary world

rejoices. That line matters. Notice it

doesn't say the strong world rejoices or

the successful world rejoices. It says

the weary world rejoices. You see, hope

didn't arrive with fireworks. It didn't

come with an army. It didn't show up

with a five-year plan and a press

release. Hope didn't even trend on

social media. Hope came quietly. Hope

came humbly. Hope came as a baby born to

a young couple that had no plan B. No

control of timing, no power over their

circumstances, just enough faith to keep

going when things just looked like they

were never going to work. Hope was laid

in a feeding trough because there was no

room anywhere. No space, no comfort, no

welcome sign. And yet in that small

ordinary moment,

everything changed.

Notice God didn't shout instructions

from a distance. God didn't send another

reminder about how far we had fallen.

God came close. God moved in into our

world, into our mess, into our fear,

into our grief, into our broken systems,

into our complicated families, and into

our unanswered prayers. The Gospel of

John puts it this way. The word became

flesh and made his dwelling among us. I

love the way the message translation

translate that that verse. It says the

word took on flesh and blood and moved

into the neighborhood.

Hope got skin on. Hope learned to

breathe. Hope cried at night. Hope

needed to be held. Hope entered the

world not as an idea but as a presence.

And that changed everything. Because if

God is willing to enter the world that

way, then no part of our life is off

limits to God's presence. Not the parts

that we celebrate and share on social

media. Not the parts that we hide. Not

the places where we feel strong. Not the

places where we feel weak. Not the

places where we're still asking God,

"Where are you?" If God can be born in a

manger, God can meet us right where we

are. That's the thrill of hope. Not that

the night disappears, but that light

came into the night. And once light is

here, darkness never gets the final

word. You see, a thrill of hope leads to

a weary world rejoicing.

And then we come to the line that

everybody waits for in Oh holy night. I

wish I could sing because I would sing

it for you. You know that night, oh

night, divine, oh night, when Christ was

born. It's that moment in the song where

everything shifts. The build, the swell,

the silence right before the words land.

Because once we realize what kind of

night it was, the only response we can

have is worship. The song says, "Fall on

your knees." That's not because we're

scared of God. That's not because God is

angry. That's not because we're being

forced into submission. It's because

we're overcome by grace. Because the

holy God of heaven chose a manger.

Because the creator of the universe

chose to enter creation. Because the one

who holds the stars allowed himself to

be held. You see, kneeling in the

language of faith isn't about

humiliation. It's about surrender. It's

the posture of people who realize that

they're loved more than they deserve.

That's what Christmas is all about. We

don't come here to impress anyone

tonight. We don't come with our best

performance. We don't come pretending to

have it all together. We come honest. We

come tired. We come carrying joy in

grief in the same heart. We're grateful

for what has been. And we come hoping to

find light in areas of our life that

might not have seen light for years. And

we kneel, maybe not literally, but in

our heart. We kneel when we whisper

prayers that we don't know how to say

out loud. We kneel when we admit we

can't fix everything. We kneel when we

stop striving and start trusting.

We kneel when we let ourselves receive

what we can never earn.

Because the Savior has come close. He's

not far off. He's not distant. He's not

out of reach. He's right here, right

now. That first Christmas night was holy

because Christ was born.

Not because the stars aligned. Not

because the world finally paused. Not

because everything felt calm or quiet.

It was holy because God came close. And

tonight, this night,

right here at Christ Church, it can be

holy, too. Not because you finally found

a parking spot. Not because the kids

made it through the service without

melting down. Not because life suddenly

feels settled. I mean, let's be honest.

Some of you might have came straight

from work. Some of you might have fought

the South Hills Village traffic and just

said a prayer hoping you could even get

to the church. Some of you might be

sitting to an empty space where someone

you love should be sitting. Some of you

might be full of joy. Some of you might

be holding grief. And some of you might

be holding both of those at the same

time. And yet here you are. Because

Christmas doesn't wait for life to be

perfect. It never has. Christmas meets

us in the middle of real life. In

kitchens that are cluttered with dirty

dishes from dinner. In hearts that are

still heavy and and worried. In homes

that are joyful and complicated all at

the same time

in lives that are still a work in

progress. That's exactly the kind of

world that Jesus was born into. And

that's why the promise the angel made

still stands today

when he says today a savior has been

born to you. Not just to Bethlehem, not

just to shepherds, not just to people

who have it all together, but to the

South Hills, to this community, to this

church, to you and to me. You see,

tonight isn't holy because everything is

right or everything is perfect. Tonight

is holy because God is here. Let's pray.

Lord, we are so grateful

that you came to us. You didn't wait for

everything to be perfect. You didn't

wait for everything to be fixed. You saw

that we were tired. You saw that we were

weary. You saw that we were struggling.

And you came anyway.

And when you came, everything changed.

Thank you for meeting us where we were

and thank you for taking us where you

want us to be.

That first night was holy

not because of the setting or the wise

men or the shepherds or any of that. It

was holy because God showed up.

May we realize that God continues to

show up in our lives every single day,

making where we are and what we are

doing holy if we just make room for him.

>> Amen.