Luke 1:39-55

You may have missed out on this, but there is a new holiday trend that is literally turning a traditional Christmas celebration upside down. Hammacher Schlemmer, a retail company based in New York, is currently offering a unique yuletide decoration: the Upside-Down Christmas Tree. 

Standing at 7-feet tall and pre-lit with over 800 commercial grade lights, this technological marvel can be yours for the low price of $599.95. But why would anyone want an upside-down Christmas tree, you ask? According to Hammacher Schlemmer's website: “The inverted shape makes it easier to see ornaments, which hang away from the dense needles,” while “allowing more room for the accumulation of presents underneath.” 

Other retail outlets are following suit, and even Target is getting in on the action, with upside-down trees ranging from $299 to $499 on its website. They also claim that the trees “leave more room on the floor for gifts.”[1]   And that’s what it’s all about, right?  Gifts.  Getting stuff. And more stuff. 

According to the Harper’s Index, the U.S. spends $23,631,000,000 annually on imported toys. To put that in a bit of perspective, the amount spent by the next 10 highest toy-importing countries combined: $21,729,000,000.  The same report (which dates from December, 2005) revealed that the average number of credit cards per U.S. household was 12.7[2]  (And most of them carry a balance, I would think). 

You’ve heard people talk about having ‘Christmas every day’, right?  Well, a psychologist by the name of Patricia Dalton says that if the national way we celebrate Christmas is by accumulating stuff, then we’re doing that already.  “Rampant consumerism, once confined to the holidays, has become a year-round American affliction.”  And it’s good for her business. 

She observes unhappy people trying to fill the emptiness of their lives by irresponsible spending and then consulting psychologists like herself to figure out what has gone wrong in their lives. 

“Those of us who lived through the '60s,” she says, “seem to have forgotten the warning that everything you buy owns you. To pay for all their junk, people now work so hard that they're ruining their marriages, their families, and their health. No wonder so many feel “spiritually empty” as the year winds down.”[3]

Now, of course, the terrible irony here is that the basis for all of this – the reason we give gifts, the root of this season in which so many go on this frantic search for meaning - is something that is not only good, but it is wonderful. 

Most of the Western world, obviously, has turned completely away from any spiritual basis for the Christmas season.  We’ve all read or heard news vignettes describing yet another example of this reality, from last year’s controversy of WalMart deciding to use the word “holiday” instead of “Christmas” in it’s advertising (they went back to Christmas this year, but it’s all about marketing, don’t kid yourself!), to a survey I saw recently that measured the spiritual content of the Christmas programming on TV. Many were dismayed to discover that less than 3% of the hundreds of hours of programming even mentioned Jesus at Christmas. 

…To be honest with you, I was surprised that it was that high…

I think that sometimes we Christians have the wrong attitude about this whole thing.  We don’t have the right perspective on it. We seem to spend a lot of energy wringing our hands, and lamenting ‘the changes’ in our society.  We fondly recall the ‘good old days’ when Christmas Carols were heard regularly on TV, and the Bible was read in schools, and everybody went to church, (at least on Christmas Eve), and there was a manger scene down at the town hall.  We wish we could go back to those days, we wish that somehow people would suddenly realize what they’ve been missing. 

Well, it’s true, the world has changed. In many ways. But, one thing that hasn’t changed is that the world hasn’t ‘turned away’ from God. What the world is, perhaps, has become more obvious.  See, from the Bible’s perspective, the world has always been a hostile place when it comes to spiritual realities.  When the Gospel writer John described the coming of ‘the Word-made-flesh’, he didn’t write that the “Light shone through the dimness”, or the ‘twilight’; he says that “the Light shines in the darkness…”  And that has always been true.  In every age, every where – whether 20 years ago, or 50 years, 2,000 years ago – the Light has always been shining through darkness. 

Back in December 1952 a toxic mix of dense fog and sooty black coal smoke killed thousands of Londoners in four days. According to a National Public Radio report, it still remains “the deadliest environmental episode in recorded history.” 

Here is what happened:

Smoke coming out of London's chimneys mixed with natural fog, and the air turned colder. Londoners heaped more coal on their fires, making more smoke. Soon it was so dark some said they couldn't see their feet. By Sunday, December 7, visibility fell to one foot. Roads were littered with abandoned cars. Midday concerts were cancelled due to total darkness. Archivists at the British Museum found smog lurking in the book stacks. Cattle in the city's Smithfield market were killed and thrown away before they could be slaughtered and sold—their lungs were black. 

Funeral director Stan Cribb of T. Cribb and Sons has led thousands of funeral trains through the smoggy streets of London. But he says the 1952 event dwarfs all others he has seen. He remembers the moment he saw the first gray wisps: “You had this swirling, like somebody had set a load of car tires on fire.” 

That killer fog is an apt picture of the spiritual world into which Jesus came: a malevolent, sinister, deadly darkness covered the world when the Word “made his dwelling among us.”  And nothing has changed as far as that goes.  The light is still shining in the darkness. 

In the Gospel of John, the “world” is a term used to symbolize everything that is in rebellion against God. So when we read in John 3:16 that "God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son," that’s not God's love being praised by reference to the world's bigness…but by reference to its badness. God loved the world. 

It’s telling us that this ugly, sinful, rebellious world, this place of endless selfishness, this pool of cruelty, this lover of violence, this promoter of greed, this maker of idols—this world God loved, and loved so much that he sent his Son.[4]

When I see the hoards of cars in the Mall parking lots around Christmas time (from a distance – I shop on line!), and when I’m subjected to those ‘heartwarming’ TV commercials reminding us that real love is demonstrated by giving a nice big Lexus to your wife for Christmas, or a diamond pendant the size of a grape, and when I see other examples of the frantic ways that people are trying to find ‘joy’ by trying to cultivate a holiday spirit when there is no Spirit in their holiday… it doesn’t make me angry, or disgusted.  It doesn’t make me long for the good ‘ol days. It just makes me kind of sad.  And it reminds me of how important it is that those who know the truth share it, by living it. 

Because this world is the same kind of world that Jesus first came to. A world of spiritual darkness. A world full of people who are empty, and looking to be filled, but who too often look in the wrong places. A world of people who want to be happy, but don’t understand why they are unhappy in the first place.  A world full of people who desperately want to avoid the truth about themselves, and eternity…and yet the truth, which is the love of God in Christ, is always seeking them, loving them, reaching out in gentle love.  It is there for those who will see. 

The world that Jesus entered, like today, was cruel and harsh.  And Jesus came here, not to be rewarded or to be made comfortable, but he came to give… that’s the point of a true story that I read recently. It’s by a guy named Ed Gilbreath, found in Campus Life magazine. 

 It was a chilly December evening in downtown Chicago, and about a dozen of us from a suburban Christian college were Christmas caroling. My best friend, Uriel, stood next to me, his steady, strong voice carrying the group. A few people stopped to listen.

…0 come ye, 0 come ye to Bethlehem. Come and behold him…

A black man edged closer as we sang. He seemed to eye me, the only African American in our group. His head nodded in rhythm with the melody. 

…0 come let us adore him, Christ the Lord!

"Say, brother," he said, approaching me as the song ended, "Would you please help my family? We ain't got no money, and my baby needs formula."

He was probably in his 20s, but his tired and ragged appearance made him look much older.

"Please, man. I need to get us some food."

I glanced at the others in my group.

We knew the safest response was to politely refuse. Yet we were Christians. Weren't we supposed to help needy people?

"Would you please help me?" the plea came again. "Just a few dollars."

I looked at Uriel.

"We can't give you money," Uriel finally said, "but we can buy you what you need." If the guy was telling us the truth, it was something we had to do.

“My name is Jerome,” he told us as we hiked toward a nearby convenience store. He lived in a city housing project with his wife and three kids. As we entered the store, I noticed that his eyes seemed to brighten. Maybe we'd brought a little hope into his life. Soon we'd bought him baby formula, eggs, and milk. This seemed a fitting conclusion to our evening of caroling.

As we handed Jerome the groceries and bus fare, I noticed his eyes had darkened into an angry stare. “You think you better than me, don't you?” he said. “You all think you somethin' cause you come out from the suburbs, buyin' food for the po' folks, but you ain't no better than me.”

“No…” I struggled to find more words, but nothing came. I realized there was nothing I could say that would change his mind.

After a moment of awkward silence, Jerome grabbed his bag of groceries and walked away. Then he suddenly turned and said sharply, “Merry Christmas.” It was not a warm wish, but a bitter statement filled with broken pride.

The December air blew colder. No one said a word. There wasn't anything to say. Our holiday spirit had suddenly evaporated, and there was no way to bring it back.

We might have resented Jerome and felt justified. But was he wrong? We gave him a gift. He accepted it. Should there have been anything more?

That's sort of how it was at the first Christmas. Jesus wasn't born a helpless baby for applause. He didn't hang on the cross for the praise—those he died for made fun of him. Still, he gave selflessly and unconditionally. Why had we expected gratitude and appreciation for our gift to Jerome?

Strangely enough, Jerome gave us something far better than gratitude. He made us look hard at our selfish motives and gave us a sobering lesson on the real reason for giving.

We were expecting a pat on the back.

Instead, Jerome gave us a glimpse into the true meaning of Christmas.[5]

The great preacher James Earl Massay once told of a time when he was browsing in a bookstore somewhere around Christmastime. He overheard a young wife pleading with her husband: “Here is something you could give to your dad for Christmas.” He described her tone as sounding final and weary, as if the couple had been searching for quite some time. The husband came near and examined the object she was holding up, an excellently crafted model ship done in hand-carved wood. 

The young man grabbed for the price tag, then acted stunned as he blurted out, “Ugh! Thirty-five dollars!” Then with a scowl, he snapped, “He's not worth that much.”  Massey says, “I shuddered, wondering what the father had done to spoil the son’s regard for him.”[6]

I’m so glad, knowing how far not only from ‘perfect’ I fall, but how short of just plain ‘good’ as well, (just like all of us!);  knowing how people look at the outward things, but that God looks at the heart… I’m so glad to know that when Jesus left the glory of heaven and took off the cloak of his dignity, and set aside the very power of creation…when Jesus entered that dark maze of sin and rebelliousness, and all that –he saw it all, including in me –  I’m so glad that he didn’t say – “Ugh! He’s just not worth it!”  I’m so glad he came, anyway. For me and for you. 

Well then, knowing something of the enormity of this gift to us, what is the proper response?  We see it everywhere – from the shepherds, to the Magi, to the angels… to countless multitudes of believers across the ages: the only response to such love is to worship.  And by that I don’t mean to simply tip our hat to God every once in a while, or, even once a week. 

What we worship is, by definition, the thing that is at the center of our lives.  What we worship is what we orient ourselves around. To worship Christ as Lord means that we sing his praises and we celebrate our connection to him, and we celebrate the gift of Christ together on every occasion we can – even as we are doing today. 

But it also means that we will keep Christ at the center of our lives the rest of the year as well. That we will respond to his call to discipleship – to ‘follow me’ – respond in actions as well as words. That’s the response of worship.

It means that we will do our best to love others as we are loved, to live out the Good News in such a way that others might see the light in us, because they are surely looking.  The light is shining in the darkness. 

There was a believer who lived a number of years ago by the name of James Montgomery.  He was one of those faithful souls who accepted adversity in his life with grace and who consistently put his faith into action – even when the cost to him was rather high. 

Montgomery lived in England from 1771-1854, a time of great social change and evil.  This was a day of child labor, and institutionalized, government sanctioned slavery.  James had once studied to be a missionary, like his parents, who both died suddenly on the mission field in the West Indies. When he was just 23 years old he was appointed editor of the weekly Sheffield Register in London, a position he would hold for thirty-one years. 

His Christian faith is what drove him, however, and this controversial newspaper editor long championed foreign missions and Bible distribution. Montgomery also became an activist for numerous causes, particularly the abolition of slavery. His radical views earned him frequent fines and imprisonment on at least two occasions. 

Montgomery is best remembered today, however, for the more than 400 hymns that he wrote. Most of them were written in the early part of his life when he was serving as a pastor in Liverpool. But a few came later, such as the one we will close with this morning: Angels from the Realms of Glory first appeared as a poem in his newspaper on Christmas Eve of 1816. [7]

As we sing this, let us affirm together that this invitation to ‘Come and worship…worship Christ the newborn King’ is a call to center our entire lives around the Lordship of Christ; as well, it is an invitation that God himself has entrusted us – his church – to share with a needy wor

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