Introduction: On the surface, this is as simple a story as anyone could tell. A young woman gives birth to a baby. In our world four babies are born every second. A poor young woman gives birth to a baby. In our nation 16 million children live in poverty. The poor young woman lays her baby in a make-shift crib in a run-down shelter. This happens all the time, maybe not in Mequon, but not far from Mequon. On the surface there is nothing that surprises us here, not really. What Luke tells us in his record of Christmas is as simple a story as anyone could tell, and any Christian child can tell it.
But what’s below the surface isn’t so simple. When we hear the story of a new baby, we always ask: What comes next? But when we hear the story of this baby, we must ask: What came before? The story about Jesus that Luke tells us begins nine months before Bethlehem. The story about Jesus that John tells in the Gospel for Christmas Day begins before the beginning of time. The story about Jesus that Luke tells us is as simple a story as anyone could tell. The story about Jesus that John tells us is the opposite of simple. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. This is Jesus, of course, but this is Jesus before he was Jesus. His life didn’t begin at conception. He existed before the beginning began; there was never a time when the Word was not. He was hard at work long before Bethlehem. Before he ever cooed or cried in his manger bed, he was the voice of God. The eternal Word was the SAID in the Bible’s words And God said.
Well, what was there before the beginning? Stephen Hawking, the great physicist, admitted he didn’t know. If the universe began with a big bang and an explosion of light—and that’s what most physicists think—it’s reasonable to assume that there was darkness before there was light. The physicists get that right. Here’s how God describes it: Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep. But God was there and at a certain point in timelessness, God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. The eternal Word spoke and the universe began to be. John says as much: In the beginning was the Word. And then he wrote: Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. The eternal Word is the creating voice of God. He was the Word who shaped a formless cosmos and filled an empty universe. His was the voice that brought order to chaos. He was the first light in the night.
The universe we know today is hardly formless and empty. We look into the sky and see what we can see and we know that we can see only a smidgen of what’s really there. The planet we live on isn’t formless and empty, either; it’s packed with people and places and filled with divine creations and human inventions. But sometimes our world seems just as confusing and just as chaotic as it was before time began. We can’t feel the cancer cells, we can’t trust the economy, we can’t see the Covid germs. We don’t grasp the idea of alternate lifestyles, we don’t understand the effect of global warming, and we don’t know if life will be different tomorrow from what it is today. The world out there is filled with lights, but sometimes my world and your world seem very dark, almost as dark as before creation.
But Jesus is still the light in the night. The same voice that called creation to order keeps creation in order. The sun blazes but it never burns up, the planets are heated but never melt down, every action still meets with an equal and opposite reaction, and what goes up always comes down. We may not hear a tree fall in the forest but Jesus does. We may not see the shape of a snowflake, but he does. Even after he became human and we called him Jesus, even then the wind and the waves obeyed him. Even the very hairs of your heard are all numbered, he said. Look at the birds of the air; he said. They do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. No tumor grows in our bodies, no tear falls on our cheek, no worry furrows our brow that he doesn’t know. Our lives may sometimes seem chaotic, but the divine Word orders our lives in his plan. Our world may often seem confusing, but the divine Word is still in control. And when darkness drifts across our paths, whether the night is sickness or uncertainty or even when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Jesus is still the light in the night.
If we had been there on Christmas Eve, if we brushed aside the straw that lined the manger, if we unwrapped the swaddling clothes, if we got past the human form, we would have seen the eternal Word lying there. He was the Word who was in the beginning, the Word who was with God, the Word who was God. He was also the speaker when God said: Let us make man in our image, in our likeness. He was part of the perfect fellowship with Adam and Eve; he enjoyed their company as they enjoyed God’s. And he was also there when the serpent slithered through the tree, when the serpent lied, when Eve took the forbidden fruit and shared it with Adam. Was there a moment of ghastly horror as he looked on? No, No, No! Not this! Not sin. I don’t know, but I know this. Sin spoiled the image, it destroyed the likeness, it broke the fellowship, it lost the garden, it plunged the human race into darkness—and we are part of the human race. We call this darkness death; to be separated from God is the ultimate death. The day the creatures sinned was the night the lights went out in Eden.
Through all this horror, God did not change. The eternal God and the divine Word and the Spirit of God don’t change. While the world was dealing with death, the Word was still with God, he was still God. In him was life, John wrote in the Gospel. He had fellowship with God, he was united to God. Nothing ever came between the divine Word and God, not conception in Mary’s womb, not a birth in a stable, not a life of serving others. He became truly human, he placed himself under obligation to God’s law, he allowed himself to be arrested and tortured, he set down a timetable for his own death, but he never stopped being God. And then on the cross, this God man, this divine-slash-human Jesus, gave up his life with God to pay the penalty for sin. At the central moment of history God was separated from God—the divine Word died—so that we could be united with God forever. He gave up his life and so his life became the light of men. The light blazed across the darkness of sin and death, and the darkness could not stand up to it. He gave life back to the creatures. And not only to some; he was the true light who gives light to every man. In the darkness of sin and death, Jesus is the light in the night for the world.
Here is the central truth of the entire Bible; every other teaching depends on it: God declares the entire world forgiven because of Jesus. God does not hold your sin against you anymore. No matter what you’ve thought or said or done, no matter how often you’ve sinned or how many times you messed up your life or someone else’s, God forgives you in Jesus. God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. This is the good news the angels announced on the fields of Bethlehem; this is the peace the angel choirs sang about. This is the news the shepherds told and the news that Mary pondered. This is why Simeon rejoiced and why the Magi traveled from afar. This is the good news John the Baptist preached in the desert when he said, Look, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.
But not every preacher preaches like John. Not every preacher comes to testify concerning the light so that all men might believe. Not every preacher admits that he is only a witness to the light. There are still serpents slithering through churchly trees telling lies about God. And there are still Eves and Adams who eat the fruit that Satan peddles. John knew it: He was in the world, John wrote, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. There is a light in the night, and his name is Jesus, but some refuse him and some choose to remain in the darkness. And some of them we know.
Here we are on this Christmas morning. The light is shining all around us. We haven’t refused it; we’re not in the dark about God. We have seen the light, we confess the light, we sing about the light, we believe the light, we live in the light. John wrote: And to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God. And so we are the children of God. Of the seven billion people who live on this planet, we are among those who have seen the light and believe. Do you ever wonder why? Do you ever ask, Why me? Is it because I was born a German or brought up Lutheran? Is it because my human family willed me into the family of God? John says no. We are children of God not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will. At a certain point in your life, the Spirit of the divine Word placed the spark of faith into your heart. He showed you the loving face of God; he convinced you that your sins are forgiven; he led you to long for heaven. At your baptism he opened your eyes of faith; with the power of his message he chases away your darkness; with his holy meal he intensifies the light of his love. You see this, don’t you? The light in the night who shines for all the world has become YOUR light in the night. He has destroyed your darkness, he has lifted you into the light, he has made you his child forever.
On the surface the Christmas story is as simple a story as anyone could tell. But underneath the manger is a profound message. The divine Word who existed with God in the beginning, who was with God, who was God—this divine Word became flesh and made his dwelling along us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only Son. We have seen it in the dark chaos of our world, in the black hole of sin and death, in the murky fog of our own doubt and disbelief. Christ is for us our light in the night, and he is full of grace and truth. Amen.
