December 24, 2009
The Night - Luke 2:1-20 - Christmas Eve Service
Pastor: Luke Maybry
DownloadIt’s nighttime outside. Most all of the services that we have at night at Church are somber services: Ash Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, & the Longest Night Service. Not only that, but the Christmas season comes at that time when most of the day’s 24 hours is in fact night. Part of me loves that about Christmas and about this time of year. Nothing is more romantic than walking on the battery in Charleston, South Carolina at night, with the Cooper River Bridge on the left, Fort Sumter on the right, and Castle Pinckney straight ahead. I love the night. There is something wonderful and mysterious about it. Leah and I got engaged right on the Star of Texas, in front of the capitol building in Austin, at night. We got married in Greenwood, South Carolina at night. Our daughter stays up, all night, as do I. We are both night owls. There is something about being inside my house by a blazing fire on a cold winter’s night, better yet with snow, that just knocks my socks off. The very first time that I ever came in this sanctuary was at night, when I interviewed with the pastoral nominating committee here. Our mothers all have told us numerous times that nothing good happens after midnight. Well, I for one may have to call your bluff on that.
And I will lose. I love the night only at a distance, and only with an escape from it. Without that, nighttime is terrifying. Every other service that we have here at night is a somber service. Crime goes up at night. People are more prone to give in to their lesser selves at night. People get more depressed at night, not to mention more frustrated at night. The darkness of night, while it may be romantic, also makes anything other than romance hard. Try riding your bike at night, or running, or driving, or anything else that involves vision. All of which is to say that with a little distance and a good buffer, nighttime is great. Without all that, though, it’s miserable.
Though Scripture does not specifically say this, I believe that Jesus was born at night. Scripture does say that Mary & Joseph had no place to stay, and I think we can assume that it was for the night. The angels specifically appeared to the shepherds in the fields, by night. Manger scenes are almost always warm and cozy, but Jesus came into the world during a nighttime without distance or buffers. God could not have picked a more horrifying place to become one with us. Mary and Joseph were pregnant, unwed children, on their way to Bethlehem to keep their Roman occupiers happy. They were dirt poor. They were so poor, they couldn’t even pony up a place to give birth. Not one single soul had enough pity on a pregnant child to give her a more comfortable place to give birth than a barn. Mary’s own biological clock even worked against her, forcing her to give birth not in the warmth of the afternoon sun, but the bitter cold of the night.
And yet, the Light came. Jesus came, even in the poverty stricken slums of Bethlehem. In spite of all that, Jesus came. Maybe in some ways, because of all that, Jesus came. We had our longest night service here a week ago tonight. The longest night service is designed for people who have experienced loss. It comes literally on the longest night of the entire year. I was skeptical of that service. I just didn’t think we could fit all that loss into Christmas. Yet Christmas and all the Scripture readings surrounding it come to us from loss. Isaiah was very much in his own longest night when he wrote about the great hope of a Savior bringing light into the world. I was amazed at how powerful that service was. We all read some Scripture, and sang a hymn, and then we all went up and lit candles in memory of people we had lost. It was an incredibly powerful experience for me, not because it reminded me of what I had lost. It did indeed remind me of what I had lost. It did indeed remind me that I was still very much in the night of sadness. But most importantly, it reminded me that even in the night, the light still shines. God became one with us right smack in the middle of the night, in every way, in the horror and loss and loneliness of the night.
So yes, if you get the chance, take your sweetheart down to the battery in Charleston and enjoy the darkness, but just don’t jump in the water. Go stand on the Star of Texas in beautiful Austin at night, and go six streets south and enjoy the best night life in the country, but don’t go on the wrong street. Go home and build a fire in the fire place, star out your window in the darkness, wrap up in a cozy blanket and enjoy your slumber, but just make sure that you don’t burn your house down and lose your buffer from the darkness. There is something enchanting about the night. Just make sure that you keep a little distance from it. But some of us don’t have that option. Some of us have been thrust out into the cold night with no escape, and it’s anything but romantic and cozy.
Yet, our Salvation came into the world not in the light of day, but in the gloom of night. Even there, even in the darkness of the darkest night, the light comes and shines and gives us the promise of a new day, a better day, when, as Isaiah said, “the wolf shall lie down with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion and fatling together, and a little child shall lead them… They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain,” says the Lord, “for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” That light came many years ago in a very harsh place and time, and that light still shines. So may we all rejoice together, even now, even at night. Even in the darkest time of the year, and even in what may be the darkest time of your life, we can sing with the angels. Because as sure as there’s a night, there’s also a light that the darkness did not and will not overcome.
In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.
