The Sounds of Christmas, Love (Hark! The Herald Angels Sing), Christ Church Sermon, December 21,...

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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 morning and merry Christmas.

>> Merry Christmas.

>> Today's scripture is John 1:14.

John 1:14

The word became flesh and made his

dwelling among us.

We have seen his glory. The glory of the

one and only son

who came from the father

full of grace and truth.

>> Hear what the spirit is saying to the

church. Thanks be to God.

>> Thanks Marell. Good morning everybody.

>> Can you believe we're in the last

weekend before Christmas? Man, it's

unbelievable. And we're in the midst of

this sermon series called the sounds of

Christmas. You just sang one of those

really upbeat songs. You know, there are

some Christmas carols though that kind

of whisper gently. But that go telling

on the mountain one doesn't do that. And

the one we're preaching on today also

doesn't do that. It's called Hark the

Herald Angels Sing. That carol doesn't

whisper. It isn't like a lullabi. It

comes bursting through the silence.

Right? Hark in the old English means

stop, listen and pay attention because

something is happening that you don't

want to miss. And that something is that

heaven is breaking into earth. Now when

the angels speak, notice what they don't

say. They don't give us a message of

fear saying you should be afraid. They

don't bring a message of judgment saying

brace yourselves. They don't hand out a

to-do list from God saying, "Here's how

you fix everything and then the Savior

will come." No, they simply announce a

message of love. God's love wrapped in

the flesh, breathing in a manger,

reachable, touchable, and knowable. And

that's exactly what John was telling us

in our scripture this morning. The Word

became flesh and made his dwelling among

us. I love how the message puts it. The

word became flesh and blood and moved

into the neighborhood. Right? Think

about that for a moment. God didn't send

love in a letter. God didn't send love

from from way up in heaven at a

distance. God didn't wait for us to try

to get to heaven. God came to us. He

walked our streets. He learned our

language. He lived with our limitations.

He stepped into our mess, into our

questions, into our heartbreak, into our

humanity,

not simply to observe it, but to redeem

it from the inside out. Now, when you

think about someone showing up for

someone, whether they send a text or

receive a text that says, "I'm here for

you." That's really awesome. But it's

another thing entirely to have somebody

knock on your door, step into your

house, sit at your table, and say, "I am

with you through all of this." That's

Christmas. That's what God did. Love

showed up not as an idea, not as a

feeling, but as a person. Jesus, as I

say, is love with skin on. Love we can

look at, love we can listen to, love

that we can that we can follow.

Christmas invites us to stop, to listen,

and to pay attention because heaven has

moved into our neighborhood. And God's

love has come all the way from heaven to

us. God's love is a love that takes the

first step. When we sing Hark the Herald

Angels Sing, we sing the line, "God and

sinners reconciled." Now, the angels

don't whisper this. The angels proclaim

this because it is the heartbeat of

Christmas. God takes the initiative.

Before we've prayed a single prayer,

before we've changed a single thing in

our life, before we even knew how lost

we were, God came to us. Heaven moved

first. That resonates with us as United

Methodists because as part of our

theology, Wesley called that move

pervenient grace, meaning the grace that

goes before. It's the grace that seeks

us out. The grace that stirs our hearts

long before we even know to look for

God. Christmas is pervenient grace

wrapped in flesh. God didn't wait for us

to get to heaven. God came down into our

world, into our mess, into our

wondering.

And God coming down to us reminds me of

of that moment that most of us have

either experienced or at least witnessed

where we're in a crowded mall. Holiday

rush is everywhere and suddenly ours or

someone else's child slips out of sight.

You know that sick feeling that rises in

your chest. Your heart starts racing.

Your pace quickens. Instinctively, you

start to move. You don't wait. You don't

lecture. You don't sit back and say,

"Well, when they find me, then I'll tell

them why they shouldn't have left me in

the first place." No, you you move. You

start searching. You call their name.

You're weaving through all the crowds.

other people start helping you call

their name long before they might ever

start looking for you. That is the

Christmas story. Humanity wondered. We

lost our way. God didn't pace the floor

of heaven going, "Well, eventually

they'll come back to me." No. At

Christmas, he offered himself to us. He

said, "I'm going to go find them." That

is the miracle of love at Christmas. God

closed the distance. God bridged the

gap. God took the first step. Once

you've been found with that kind of

love, you can't help but share it with

others. Our carol reminds us that love

enters the world as it is, not as it

should be. We sing in Hark the Herald

Angels sing veiled in flesh, the Godhead

Sea. Christmas was not about God waiting

for ideal conditions. It was about God

stepping in to real conditions. He

didn't choose a palace that was wrapped

in all this silk and everything. He

chose a feeding trough that was lined

with scratchy straw. He didn't choose

calm circumstances. He chose the town of

Bethlehem. Although it was a small town,

it was bursting at the seams because of

the census that Caesar had ordered. So,

it was full of noise and it was crowded

and it was chaotic and it was

unprepared. that town was not ready or

able to handle that many people. He

didn't wait for the world to be peaceful

and holy and all put together. He

entered the world exactly as it was.

That's good news for those of us that

sometimes feel like our life is more of

a mess than a manger. Right?

That's the heart of incarnational love.

God is with us. Literally in it with us.

Not above us. not waiting for us to

clean everything up first, not demanding

we fix our circumstances before showing

up. God is with us. And again, in the

Methodist tradition, we call that

practical divinity. It means taking uh

uh the love of God and putting flesh

around it. It means love entering the

real spaces and the real situations of

this world. Christmas is about God

making love visible. Think about an EMT

at a crash site. There's noise, there's

panic, there's brokenness, there's

confusion. And what do they do? They

don't wait for it to calm down. They

don't stand back and cross their arms

and and say, "When it's once things

settle down, I'm going to go in and take

care of things." They run into the mess

because that's where the healing begins.

Christmas is God arriving at humanity's

crash site. God running into our chaos,

into our fear, into our wounds, into our

sin, not to scold us, but to save us. I

mean, that's exactly what it looks like

when you serve in a church. Every

weekend, volunteers step into spaces

that aren't perfect. A nursery where

toddlers are crying and Cheerios are all

over the floor. Thank God people have a

gift to minister to those kids. A

hallway where a guest looks lost and and

overwhelmed and not sure where to go. A

tech booth where I guarantee you

something is going to go wrong. Like the

podium that the pastor is supposed to

use to preach from that isn't anywhere

to be found.

A youth room full of energy.

All kinds of things that are going on.

A prayer that's being given to someone

who just got news that was overwhelming

to them. An usher trying to find a place

for a family to sit in a room where

there's not a lot of seats while still

trying to make the family feel like

they're welcome. We don't serve because

everything is neat. We serve because

love enters the world and the church as

it is. Nobody waits for a nursery to be

silent. Nobody waits until the tech is

flawless or everyone can find a seat

comfortably. We step in because of the

needs of people. People are loved and

that's how God met us and that's how we

should meet others. That's incarnational

ministry. That is Christ's church at its

best. Love that takes action and we can

serve any time in any way. Christmas

teaches us that God didn't wait for

perfection. God showed up in the middle

of reality, both ours and his. You see,

love enters the world as it is so it can

transform the world into what God dreams

it to be. And this carol teaches us that

love understands our human experience.

The word became flesh. It reminds us

that God stepped fully into humanity.

That means Jesus didn't just observe

human life. Jesus experienced human

life. God knows what it feels like to be

tired. Anybody tired? Okay, we have more

honest people here this morning than I

had last night. God knows what it's like

to be tired. Not theoretically, but

literally. Anybody that came to this

earth and had to sleep in a boat in the

middle of a storm knows what it feels

like to be tired. God knows what it

feels like uh to grieve.

Jesus stood at Lazarus's tomb and he

wept. He knows what the ache in the

chest feels like when you lose someone

that you love. How tears just appear and

you can't control them. God knows what

it's like to be misunderstood, to be

lonely, to be disappointed. He knows

what it's like uh to have friends that

don't get it, to have crowds that walk

away, to have family that questions him.

In the incarnation, God didn't stay

above the human struggle. God entered

the human struggle. Wesley called that

the religion of the heart. We don't

worship some abstract idea. We don't

worship some distant deity. We worship a

God who walks with us, who feels with

us, who meets us in the lived reality of

our life.

We serve a God that doesn't just meet us

at the altar or in a worship space, but

a God that meets us in the kitchen and

in our workplace and in a hospital room

and in a school hallway and yes, even in

a car at Christmas time around South

Hills Village.

You know, I recently read a story about

a pastor from the Midwest who who took a

second job in a factory, not because he

needed the money. He didn't need the

money. He did it because he wanted to

understand the lives of the people in

his congregation. So he worked night

shifts. He shared vending machine meals

in the breakroom. He felt the strain on

his back after hours on the assembly

line. He listened to those people talk

about their marriages and their layoffs

and their dreams and their addictions

and how their faith was holding on just

by a thread because he wanted to preach

from among them, not from a distance.

That's the incarnation. Jesus didn't

preach from heaven's balcony. He joined

humanity living daytoday lives. He

clocked into our experience. He knows

it. He gets it. He understands it. And

that is love. Think of a teacher who who

sees a student in tears over a math

problem that just won't click. A good

teacher doesn't stand in the front and

just shout the instructions a little bit

louder. A good teacher kneels beside

their desk, sees the frustration in that

child up close and says,"Show me where

it gets hard." The teacher enters their

struggle, not just the classroom. That's

who Christ is. Not shouting from a

distance, but sitting with us in the

confusion, in the sorrow, in the

questions.

Again, we call that practical divinity.

It other words, it's a love that is

expressed in real life.

We have a savior who became flesh

showing us that spirituality isn't about

escaping this world and all the problems

in it. It's about entering the world and

showing compassion. So if Jesus took on

humanity, then our calling is to take on

the burdens of others by listening, by

showing up, by trying to understand

their situation.

The incarnation means we never have to

explain our feelings to God.

We never have to convince God that that

something hurts. We never have to wonder

if God understands what we're going

through because God understands it all.

And because God understands it. God's

love is not just powerful. God's love is

personal for us. God gives us a love

that makes us new. We sing born to give

us a second birth. You see, Christmas

isn't just about a sweet story. It's the

launch of God's restoration project in

each one of us. Not a cosmic touchup,

not a spiritual paint job, not some

behavior modification, but a rebirth, a

heart renovation, a complete overhaul

from the inside out. When Jesus enters

our life, he doesn't just polish the

surface, he transforms the structure.

And again, that connects beautifully

with our Methodist theology because

that's what sanctifying grace is all

about. It's a grace that doesn't just

forgive us. It's a grace that changes

us. It's a grace that keeps shaping us

and healing us and sending us down until

we become more like Christ. It's like

the auto body shop owner that that goes

to this church and they specialize in

restoring cars that most people would

just call total. They tow vehicles from

crash scenes with dented doors and

shattered glass and bent frames and

missing parts and paint scraped down to

the metal and and when you look at the

car, it looks like it's beyond all

repair. Insurance companies want to

write it off. People shake their heads

and say that'll never get fixed. But

those master technicians, they see

something different. They see

possibility. They see what the vehicle

was supposed to be. So they get to work.

They take the car apart piece by piece.

They straighten the frame. They repair

what's crushed. They replace what's

broken. They send away and get the

damage repaired. They rebuild it from

the inside out. And when they're done,

that car is shiny. That car is new. It

is road ready. And in most cases, it is

in better condition than it was before

it was in the accident. You see, most

people see that useless wreckage. But

the owners of that auto body shop, they

see the future. And that's what God's

grace does. God doesn't discard our

lives because we're dented or because

we're scarred or because we're wrecked

or we're worn down by impact after

impact. God doesn't look at us and say,

"Well, too far gone,

beyond repair." God's grace rebuilds.

God's love restores. Christ makes us

new. I mean truly new so we can move

forward again. That's what second birth

is. That's sanctifying grace. That's

doing that's the Holy Spirit doing what

only the Holy Spirit can do. Taking

what's broken and making it whole.

Taking what's silent and making it sing.

Taking what's stalled and putting it

back on the road with purpose.

Christmas reminds us that God's opening

up that heavenly restoration shop and

saying, "Bring me your wreckage, no

matter how bad, because I know what to

do with it." And once God's love

restores us, well, then God's love sends

us out. We sing in heart the Herald

Angels angels sing light and life to all

he brings. You see, when that divine

love enters into our human heart, our

heart can't stay still. God's love is

never stagnant. It's always on the move.

Love spreads. Love moves towards need.

Love becomes light in the dark and

warmth in places that are cold. Love

doesn't stay in the manger. Love moves

into the neighborhood.

It's called social holiness. The belief

that our faith isn't private property.

It's meant to spill out. Spill out into

our relationships. Spill out into our

decisions. Spill out into our

neighborhoods. Spill out into our

communities. When Christ's light gets

inside us, it shines through us out to

others. Love can't stay contained, it

becomes light and life in every corner

it touches. It's like that neighbor that

we we all have probably that has that

massive snowblower that looks like it

came from the Arctic Circle, not just

for suburbia, right? And when we get

those big snowfalls, that neighbor is

out not only in his driveway, but he

does all the sidewalks down the block.

He's over to the widow's house. He's

over to the family's house that has

little kids. And when everybody wakes

up, they have a path around their house

that they didn't plow. They have a

burden lifted that they didn't ask to be

lifted. They receive kindness that they

didn't earn. Why? Because somebody chose

to show them love in a practical,

tangible, incarnational way. That's what

Christmas love looks like. It looks

around and says, "Where can I make the

path clearer for somebody else?

It shows up with casserles,

car rides, prayers, presents. It

volunteers not for attention, but for

transformation.

It sees the needs that nobody names and

then just handles them quietly."

It's that kind of love that's on a

mission. It's the advent love with like

boots on the ground doing the work.

That's the heart of Christ beating

inside of all of us. You see, John 1:14

John 1:14

isn't just a verse. It is an invitation.

It is a declaration. It is a movement.

The word became flesh and moved into the

neighborhood. God moved into our world,

into our mess, into our grief, into our

questions, into our complicated

families, into our daily routines, into

our longings, into our losses.

God moved in not as a guest, but as

someone who makes themsself at home. And

here's the miracle of Christmas. God's

still moving in. God's moving into the

shame that we've carried for too long,

into the wounds that we've hidden away,

into the fears that that we don't share

with others, into the dreams that feel

impossible maybe right now. Into those

corners of our heart that might have not

seen light for years.

Because when love moves in, fear moves

out. When love moves in, hope grows

around us. When love moves in, peace

shows up. When love moves in, we reflect

the joy of Christ who came to and for

this world. Love doesn't stay in the

worship space. It goes out the door and

into the neighborhood. The angel's song

still echoes through all these years.

Glory to the newborn king. And that

king's name yesterday, today, and

forever is love. Let's pray.

Lord, we're so grateful

that you came into this world. You

didn't make us go to you. You saw we

were lost and you came to us.

And for that, we are grateful. And once

we receive that love, we ask that you

would allow us to show that love and

that light to the people around us. May

we not keep it to ourselves privately,

but may we shout it from the rooftops.

May we yell out, "Hark!" so people know

we're serious. And may we show it by the

way we serve others in our

neighborhoods, in our church, and in our

community. All possible because you

first came to us and loved us. And for

that, we say thank you. We ask all of

this in the name of the one who brought

us that love.