Speaking of perspectives, even if you had no other clue, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out that the gospel writer’s club was a men’s only organization.  Only a man, like Luke, would recount Mary’s giving birth to a baby, especially in the days before epidurals, with these simple words, “she gave birth to her firstborn (Luke 2:7).”  Like it was that simple!  I wonder what women think.  How would they write this story?  In all fairness, however, unless you have been there and done that, which no man ever has, at least not yet, it’s virtually impossible to understand the pains of childbirth.  This much any man or woman could know, and we can know, too.  In what was about to happen in Mary’s life, God was breaking into Mary’s human existence and, in doing so, breaking into ours, keeping a centuries-old promise to all mankind to come and live among those he created and intended to redeem.

The story of Christmas, the spiritual version of it anyway, is about hope.  It’s not a story that is necessarily intended to make us happy all the time.  It’s a story that may at first complicate our lives.  We can’t even begin to imagine how complicated the news of Jesus’ impending birth must have made Mary’s life at first.  She lived in a day and time when, depending on the circumstances, a woman found pregnant out of wedlock could be stoned to death for committing adultery.  At one point, Joseph even considered finding a way of hiding her away until she gave birth (Matthew 1:19).  The Christmas story can be a complicated one. 

Again, it’s not one that necessarily makes us happy, first.  The truth is, for many people, this is the single most miserable time of the year.  More people commit suicide at Christmas than any other time of the year.  A friend of ours was telling us that Christmas only highlights how miserable she is in her marriage and, though she is materially blessed, how empty it feels to be a part of her family.  Do you know anyone like that?  What is it about the most family-oriented story and season of the year that causes that?

Maybe it’s because we keep thinking that if we can just get smart enough or work hard enough or get enough help from someone, even from God, that we’ll be able to solve all of our problems and find happiness on the other side.  That’s because we tend to define happiness in terms of the absence of suffering or lack or confusion or doubt.  This is what Mary’s song celebrates, not that life is simpler but that God has broken into her life, just like it is, to be with her in it.  “‘He has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.  Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me.’”

Occasionally, I hear someone describe another as being “very spiritual.”  That’s a term church people tend to use to describe another person who never seems to have any doubts or fears or misgivings and who can quote a scripture from memory for every situation or something like that.  In fact, to be a spiritual person does not mean necessarily having power over your daily circumstances, it means being able to recognize the presence of God in them.  That’s all I hear Mary singing about.  It means being willing “to recognize where we are, the particular circumstances of our lives,” and “to recognize grace and say, ‘Do you suppose God wants to be with me in a way that does not involve changing my spouse or getting rid of my spouse or my kids, but in changing me, and doing something in my life that maybe I could never experience without this pain and suffering (Eugene H. Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor, Returning to the Art of Spiritual Direction, Eerdmans, 1989.)?”

Haven’t you discovered this about your family, your work, even your church?  Where two are three are gathered together, problems develop (Patterson, p. 63).  Too often our definition of joy is limited to celebrating what God has done in the past or what God will do in the future or to the times when all of our problems are solved.  True spirituality is learning to recognize how God has broken into this very moment, how he has “‘looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant’” right now, where we live and work and worship.  What does that mean for you personally, for your family, for your church? 

I love the story about Walter Cronkite’s experience as a WWII journalist.  Somewhere in Europe, he and a colleague were once caught in the middle of a fierce firefight.  Bullets were whizzing by and shells exploding all around.  Cronkite and his friend found a ditch and crawled onto their bellies, as low as they could get, trying to dodge the flak.  Somewhere in the middle of the battle, Cronkite’s friend, whose was lying on the ground behind him, tugged on his pants’ leg and said, “Hey Walter, someday we’re going to call these the good old days.” 

It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?  But, no matter what the circumstances of your life may be now, there is almost certainly coming a day when you will look back on this very day as the time you felt the presence of God in your life more than you ever have since.  To be Christian means learning to recognize and celebrate that presence now, the ways in which God is walking with you and talking with you and telling you that you are his own now, before this moment is gone, to sing the song God has given you in this moment, before you forget the lyrics.

For certain, the scriptures refer to Christ’s birth as the fulfillment of a promise God made from the beginning.  That, just as he promised, in Christ, he has come to redeem the world.  “It is by God's will that we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all (Hebrews 10:10).”  Mary was overwhelmed that God was fulfilling that promise in her, through her.  Too often, we stand at a distance and think of what God has done or will do as though we are a third party observer instead of recognizing that, what God promised to do, he is doing in us, through us, in this very moment.

That’s something of what I’ve come to discover my job as a pastor to be.  There is a great emphasis these days on what called “practical preaching,” preaching that gives people practical solutions to everyday problems.  The truth is, to many of our problems, there are no practical solutions.  Nancy sees children born in the neonatal intensive care unit every week who are so profoundly deformed or incapacitated that they will never live anything like a normal life nor will those who love and care for them.  I hear people describe the most complicated marriages or parenting situations that will require a lifetime of struggle and love and commitment.  The list goes on and on of seemingly overwhelming dilemmas in people’s lives.  And, I almost resent it when some suggest that good preaching would give

these people practical solutions, as though a three-point sermon with fill-in-the-blank answers will work for them.  Like the church is supposed to be the Jesus version of Extreme Makeover or something like that.   In truth, I have discovered that my job is not so much to solve people’s problems but to help them discover how God has come to live with them in the middle of those problems and find power and meaning and hope despite them.  Wasn’t that what Mary was singing about? 

When I was about twelve, as best I can recall, Andre moved in down the street.  Andre was big and tall and blonde and all the girls swooned.  Andre was also something like the block bully in the pre-adolescent underworld mafia that ruled the streets when parents weren’t around.  One day, Andre and I squared off; I was sitting on my three-speed banana seat Schwinn when he grabbed me by the collar and threatened to beat something out of me I wasn’t even allowed to say yet.  He drew a line in the sand I wasn’t willing to cross and he humiliated me in front of the people who had been my friends before he moved in. 

That evening, I was sitting on the hood of my dad’s car.  This was back when people sat outside at night on the hood of their dad’s car and talked.  My dad was sitting beside me when the embarrassment of that whole day finally overwhelmed me and I started to cry.  My dad didn’t say a word.  But, he did reach across the two feet between us and put his arm around my shoulder.  It was like he knew what had happened that day and how I was feeling, like maybe he’d been there once himself or something.  He didn’t offer to go down the street and beat Andre up for me, though I’m sure there was a part of him that would have rather enjoyed that.  He knew he couldn’t fight my battles for me.  I also knew I wasn’t alone as I had to fight them. 

If God had never intended us to know pain or suffering, he would have never created this world as we know it.  Or, at least, at the first sign of trouble, he’d beam us up to eternal bliss.  What God wanted us to know is what happens when, and only when, in the middle of the most complicated, distressful, miserable and humiliating moments of our lives, we feel his arm around our shoulder.  God never promised a painless existence.  What he did promise, to Mary’s ancestors and ours, is that we would never be alone.  That’s why, even to the lowliest of servants, especially the lowliest of servants, which normally means people who are just more aware of their vulnerability than others who are temporarily blinded to it, just as he promised, God came to be born among us, with legs for walking, ears for listening, a mouth for speaking blessings and arms for wrapping around shoulders weighed down in humiliation.

Back when Andre roamed and ruled, we church kids would play games with holy brainteasers.  We’d ask, “Can God build a rock so big he couldn’t lift it?”  I never did get that one figured out.  I think I’ve got this one figured out, though.  God’s never made a promise he won’t keep.  He’s never created a world he’s too holy to live in. 

He’s never let a life get so messy he wouldn’t come and share it.  And, he’s never let one baby be born, no matter what the circumstances, he wasn’t willing to die for.

On a nearby church marquee, just this week, I read this sentiment, “When we stop praying, God stops answering.”  As though God’s faithfulness to us is measured out in terms of our faithfulness to him!  In fact, the Bible is full of very unhappy people, or people whose lives are all messed up, or people with problems with no practical solutions.  It is also full of stories of how God was faithful, even to the lowliest people, even before they knew how to be faithful or in spite of their miserable unfaithfulness.  I thank God for the prayers he answered in my life before I knew how to pray them.  The history of this world will not ultimately be written in terms of our genius, but in terms of God doing exactly what he said he would, through Christ, just as he promised.  Our personal histories will be written in terms of how open we were to receiving his presence in our lives.  That’s what Mary was singing about.  That’s what Christmas means.

In the movie I mentioned earlier, Helen Hunt plays the role of Gibson’s boss who becomes infatuated with him.  Gibson’s character is changed when he discovers that this new gift of being able to know what women are thinking has given him the ability to hear what she actually thinks about him, that she’s falling in love with him.  Once he discovers that, he can’t help but fall in love with her.

If you haven’t fallen in love with God yet, it may be because you’ve never known what he really thinks about you.  And, if you ever wonder what God thinks about you, just look at Jesus.  “The word,” the deepest thoughts of God, “became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14).”  He was gestated in the womb of a woman who knew the pain of giving birth, in the middle of her lowly existence, to redeem mankind, just as he promised. 

If God is that good at keeping his promises, I can’t wait to see what’s next.  But, for that matter, if God is that good at keeping his promises, I wonder what he’s up to right now, in this very moment, in this very room, in your heart and mine, in your family, in this church, right now!