Promises Made, Promises Kept: Low Places

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,

    and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them. --Luke 1:1-20 (NRSV)

Grace, mercy, and peace from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ:  Emmanuel, God with us. The Word made flesh. Amen.

Over the season of Advent, it’s a tradition here at Grace & Glory to read through a devotional book - something that puts us as a community literally on the same page each day as we wait for this night.

This year, we’ve been reading a devotion entitled, “Low,” by John Pavlovitz. He’s a contemporary writer and pastor who writes about the gritty reality of life. One look at the titles from some of the days give you a sample: Twisted Bowels, It is Not Well With My Soul, Sorry and Sorrow, A Messy Nativity and Low Places.

It’s that title - Low Places - that has really stuck with me over the past few days. In fact, as I reflected on this phrase, I must admit that this is the first thing I thought of.

Now, the themes in this song are probably not the best material on which to preach on Christmas Eve. Yet, there is real truth and honesty in this song. And, with the Christmas story, we've so romanticized that we've forgotten the truth of the story. The gritty reality. That it’s really about a lowly teenage girl. Who is pregnant. And unwed. And about a carpenter, who in his broken-heartedness keeps their engagement, even with the knowledge that the child she’s carrying isn’t his. And knowing that, if he breaks off their engagement, the possibility of her being stoned to death in their time and their place was very real. These were people in “low places.”

But, my focus tonight actually isn’t on Mary and Joseph. It’s not even on the baby, helpless and small as he was. My focus tonight is on the lowest-of-the-low characters in our story. So low, in fact, that they are unnamed, even though they show up in nearly every single nativity scene we see. 

Who are these lowly, unnamed characters? They are the animals.

Now, we assume that there were animals present, because, even though they are unnamed, the story tells us that Mary and Joseph ended up in a stable, because there was no room for them in the “inn.” 

Now, to be honest, a more accurate translation is that there was no “guestroom” available for them. Joseph was from Bethlehem, which meant that he had family there. And a place to stay. So, when they arrived at his relatives’ house and found that the guestroom was already full, they settled into an animal stall. In Palestine, these stalls were usually adjacent to human living quarters, on a lower level. It’s where families would bring their domesticated animals in for the night - animals like oxen, and donkeys, and sheep, and chickens. This must have been such a noisy place. At least until all of the animals settled down for the night. 

It was here in this stall where Mary went into labor, which is a noisy thing, too. And a messy thing. One has to wonder what the animals in that stall were thinking. Birth was nothing new to them. But, one wonders if they had ever been witness to the birth of a human baby. And, particularly, a one like this.

In the famous verse, John 3:16, which is the Gospel in a nutshell, but which is so often used to beat people over the head, we hear these words, “God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son.” Human-centric as we are, I would suggest that when we hear the word “world” we think only of us. Of humanity. Of human beings. 

Yet, in the Greek, the word is used to refer to the entire cosmos - to all of creation. That Jesus came not just for humankind, but for everything. Animals, birds, fish, insects, dirt, clouds. In Romans 8, Paul writes that “creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed..that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”

That night, as the animals witnessed Mary’s pains of childbirth, one wonders if they were wide-eyed with the possibility that this baby, helpless and powerless, much like they were, might be the beginning of their own redemption as well.


Near the end of our service tonight, we will light candles and listen to the opening verses of John. That the Word became flesh and lived among us. The Greek word here translated for “flesh” once again describes not only human flesh, but all flesh - both human and animal. 

Now, I’m not saying that as Jesus, the Word, became flesh, he took on animal characteristics. But, I am suggesting that in taking on “flesh,” Jesus was coming alongside all of creation - creation formed by him at the beginning of time in love. 

And, that night, as these animals watched this baby being born, one can only believe that they knew they were witnessing something profound. That they were witnessing the in-breaking of God and the unfolding of God’s cosmic plan for their redemption, as well as for ours.  

Perhaps this is why, as we play with and love on our own animals, we get such a sense of profound love and commitment. Because they know. And they are just waiting for us to get it. To get that God loves us and all of God’s creation. That our believing and living in response to this love is what leads to abundant life. That it is abundant life - a life of peace and wholeness - that God desires for all creation. And that what we do - our own believing and our own living - affects the work of God for the good of all.  This is why God comes to us and all creation. This is why God comes to the low places. That all of creation might experience redemption and life. 

May you hear this tonight. May you hear God’s profound love and desire for you. And may you hear that, just as God seeks redemption and abundant life for these animals, God seeks the same for you. You, who are loved, called, and claimed as a beloved child of God.

All this. All this from a collection of unnamed noisy animals in the lowest of the low places that night in Bethlehem. Amen.

Preached December 24, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Christmas Eve
Readings: Micah 5:2-5a, Luke 2:1-20.

Claimed

There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a Jewish leader. He came to Jesus at night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one could do these miraculous signs that you do unless God is with him.”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born anew, it’s not possible to see God’s kingdom.”

Nicodemus asked, “How is it possible for an adult to be born? It’s impossible to enter the mother’s womb for a second time and be born, isn’t it?”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born of water and the Spirit, it’s not possible to enter God’s kingdom. Whatever is born of the flesh is flesh, and whatever is born of the Spirit is spirit. Don’t be surprised that I said to you, ‘You must be born anew.’ God’s Spirit blows wherever it wishes. You hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going. It’s the same with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Nicodemus said, “How are these things possible?”

“Jesus answered, “You are a teacher of Israel and you don’t know these things? I assure you that we speak about what we know and testify about what we have seen, but you don’t receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you don’t believe, how will you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has gone up to heaven except the one who came down from heaven, the Human One. Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Human One be lifted up so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life. God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him.  -John 3:1-17 (CEB)

Grace and peace to you from God, our Father, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

I love ritual. That sounds pretty boring, doesn’t it? But, I admit it. I love ritual. I’m a creature of habit.  Whether it’s my morning ritual that begins each day, hopefully, with a cup of coffee, or whether it’s our weekly pattern of worship, our ritual, that follows the order of the mass that comes down to us from the early church--whatever the ritual, I love it.

So, it’s probably no wonder that, in seminary, my favorite courses were those about the rituals of the church, especially those of the early church. For me, studying them has helped me better understand many of the rituals that we follow today--nearly all of which came out of the early church. Studying them also gives me a deeper understanding of Scripture and the beliefs of the early church, beliefs that arose out of the Hebrew scriptures and those, written by the apostles, that we call the New Testament.  

Last week, we began over these 40 days of Lent to take a look at our our ritual of baptism. We began to look at it, thinking that, if we better understand the promises made in this ritual, we might better become the baptismal people we profess to be. That we might better become the story we tell. 

We began last week with the three renunciations. Those three questions asked of every baptismal candidate--questions that we still ask today. Do you renounce the devil? Do you renounce the ways of the world? Do you renounce the ways of sin?

In the early church, before these three renunciations, the candidates would have been stripped of all clothing. Stripped of their jewelry. Stripped away of anything that might suggest their former life. They would then be led naked, down into the water. Into a river or a moving stream. It was here, waste-deep in water, that they would be turned to face west. West. The place of the setting sun. Of the beginning of darkness. Of night. Or, symbolically, the place of unbelief.

Facing west, they would speak the three renunciations, declaring their intent to renounce all those things that separate us from God. Then, the priest would blow three times into each candidate’s nostrils. This blowing or breath was a ritual intended to signify the coming of the Spirit. The in-breathing of the Holy Spirit. The entry of the breath of God. 

Next, although there are some variations in the early rituals, the candidates would then be anointed on the forehead and the chest with oil--an “Oil of Catechumens.” This anointing symbolized the need of each person for the help and strength of God to sever the bondage of the past and to overcome the opposition of the devil and the powers of darkness so that they might profess their faith, come to baptism, and be claimed as a child of God. 

Once this anointing with oil was concluded, the candidates were, once again, asked three questions. These questions, though, were unlike the previous renunciations. This time, the questions were about beliefs. They are the same questions we ask today.

“Do you believe in God the Father?”
“Do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God?”
“Do you believe in God the Holy Spirit?”

Do you believe? 

Believing. That’s the point of our Gospel text today. The reason Nicodemus came to Jesus at night. In the dark. In unbelief. Seeking to believe.

Oh, perhaps, Nicodemus was on his way to believing. After all, he and the others had witnessed the signs--the miracles--Jesus did. And, they had decided that no one could do this things unless they were of God.

But seeing the signs is not enough. The kingdom of God can’t be seen with physical eyes. Rather it is a reality that can only be perceived through the eyes of the Spirit, after a person has been born “anew” or “from above.” The kingdom of God can only be seen by those who have experienced a spiritual rebirth. Who have been “born again.”

Now, being “born again” is not a re-commitment. It isn’t a decision we make once we’re past the age of consent. 

To be “born again” or to be “born from above” is a spiritual rebirth that is worked in us by God through the power of the Holy Spirit. It is a spiritual rebirth into the family of God, where, just like a child, we recognize that our entire existence depends upon God. That we are fully dependent upon and trust in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. For everything we need. 

To be “born again” is to recognize that there is nothing we do to receive this new birth--that it is a call from God through the Holy Spirit to enter into full relationship with God. To come into the full presence of God and to find wholeness and new life.

To be “born again” is to know that God’s desire is that the whole world would come to be saved, to gain eternal life. God’s desire is not to judge the world, but to save the world. 

And to be “born again” is to know that in our baptism and every Sunday when we say the words of the Creed, “I believe,” we are saying that we trust. We trust in God the Father Almighty. We trust in Jesus Christ. We trust in the Holy Spirit. We trust. And, in trusting, we are doing much, much more than simply consenting to a belief in a particular Christian doctrine. We are giving witness of this relationship with God to the entire world.

That’s what Jesus was offering Nicodemus--to come into the same relationship and to exist in the presence of God. But, eventually, he did. And eventually it was he, along with others, who anointed and buried the body of Christ after his death on the cross.

Last week, I sent you home with a wilderness stone. It was something to keep in your pocket during the week to remind you that, when you are tested, Jesus has passed the test for you. 

This week, as we leave worship, I will be giving you a small bottle of anointing oil. May you use this during the week, perhaps by marking the sign of the cross on your forehead or by anointing your hands in service. May this be, as it was in the baptismal rituals of the early church--may this be a reminder to you that in your own rebirth, God has claimed you.  Claimed you to be God’s own child, claimed you to be in full relationship with God, and claimed you to be given new life in God’s kingdom. Forever and ever.

This is what we believe. This is what we trust.

Amen.

Preached at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Second Sunday in Lent.
Readings: Genesis 12:1-4a; Psalm 121; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 3:1-17.