Christmas is an emotional time. All kinds of feelings are involved with the celebration of Christmas. If you don’t feel some tension, some excitement, or some pressure, something at this time of the year, you are either dead or you’ve been watching the Redskins, which is about the same thing.
Christmas is an emotional time. There are lots of feelings. Some folks actually dread the Christmas season, so many and so hurtful are the feelings.
I
A
Some, for example, feel ragged; some feel worn out. You’ve fought the crowds in the stores, you’ve stood in line forever for the privilege of handing over your hard-earned to an overworked clerk, who snarls, "Have a happy holiday." You’re tired, but so is the clerk. You’ve staggered to the Post Office with bundles they made you re-wrap, because you didn’t get them secure enough, only to be told they couldn’t guarantee arrival before Christmas. You’re worn out, but so are the postal workers. You’ve spent days in the kitchen, baking everything imaginable, most of which your drooling husband will never taste, because it’s for gifts, and neither will you, because, once it’s done, you’re too tired to eat. You feel ragged, weary. Christmas is an emotional time.
And for some, one dimension of that weariness is a lot of guilty feelings about the past. Somehow at Christmas all our past mistakes catch up with us. All the unresolved conflicts in our lives get out on the table at this time of the year. That family member you don’t speak to. That friend you’ve been avoiding. That weak moment, when you gave in and cheated. It all becomes very real, and very wearisome, very guilty, at Christmas. The heart fills up.
B
Some feel worn out, but then others feel anxious. Anxious as to whether we are going to live up to the demands of the moment. Anxious as to whether we can handle what is expected of us.
Some feel victimized by the expectations Christmas brings. Hammered by advertising, driven by the clamors of our children, pushed by something deep down inside that tells us that love is something you can buy, we hurry like lemmings to the stores. We present our plastic, dutifully stimulating the national economy and at the same time depleting our own bank accounts. And all the preaching that we do about not commercializing Christmas doesn’t do one blessed thing to keep many of us from feeling anxious if we do not participate in this most American of holiday rituals. You know the theme song I used during the Advent season? It would make a great company anthem for Bloomingdale’s or for the computer store, "What a friend we have in Jesus"! The merchants have succeeded in making us feel inadequate if we do not spend, spend, spend! Christmas is an emotional time, an anxious time for people who don’t feel adequate. The heart fills up.
C
Some feel worn out, some feel anxious, and then still others feel a deepening sadness. Christmas is a tough time for any number of people. I am not sure how many of you have stopped to identify this feeling in yourselves, but I know I have felt it and continue to feel it. There is that quiet sadness as we remember the things that were and that can never be again, those who are no longer seated at our tables, those whose faces we think for a moment we see in the flickering flames of the fireplace.
My mother died at Christmas, three years ago; my father-in-law, at Christmas, four years ago. And how many good friends, members of this church, are not here for this Christmas. The heart, I tell you, fills up!
But most of all, there is that weighty sadness to know that we are aging, that we are no longer children, that a good deal of the innocence of yesterday is gone, and that in its place is some cynicism, some hard-boiled crustiness. I feel sorry that I am not as trusting as I used to be; I feel disappointed that I am not as optimistic about people as I once was; most of all, I am not as full of beans about my own powers any more. I am not so sure that during my lifetime I will solve every problem, learn every skill, and vanquish every foe. It struck me just the other day that, come August, I will have been pastor here for ten years, and that, given the normal retirement age of 65, I’m already more than half finished with my tenure. And yet I am not half finished with what I feel called to do. I’ve only just begun. Where does the time go? And how will it all ever be done? Maybe it won’t. That hurts. That fills the heart.
It’s another Christmas, another year past, and, for some of us, another year of waning powers. A time for a full heart.
The past, the present, and the future. A weary guilt about the past; a gnawing anxiety about the present; and a shocked sadness about the future. That’s quite enough to give us a full heart, isn’t it?
II
Mary too had a full heart. The mother of the tiny infant lying in a manger is pictured, at the end of a very, very long day and night, pondering all that had happened and keeping it in her heart. She had been through a great deal. Today we would say she was all stressed out. How did she handle it? Some folks handle stress by talking it out. They emote a blue streak. They jabber away a mile a minute. They get excited. But others handle their stress by bottling it up inside. They keep it private. They don’t want to talk about it, for fear those emotions will get out of control. Mary was one of those. Quiet. Controlled. On the surface, taking it all in stride. But down deep, much more was going on.
By the way, Mary would have made a good member of Takoma church, for we are by and large a private people. You never want anyone to know what is going on with you! You just live with full hearts.
A
Some of Mary’s feelings would have had to do with weariness. With just being tired out and stressed out from everything that had happened. Some of her feelings must have dealt with her past.
For one thing, she had endured nine months of whispers and suspicion. Who really believed her story that an angel had announced this birth? Who but Joseph trusted her with this idea that God Himself had overshadowed her and was giving her this baby? It’s not hard to imagine that the townspeople thought her either immoral or crazy or both. Surely she was tired of this, and probably felt guilty too. You don’t have actually to have done something wrong to feel guilty; you can get a bad case of the guilties just from what others think, or, worse, from what you think they think. I imagine Mary pondered no small amount of weary guilt, having lived through the past nine months.
B
And then, I suspect we are on solid ground supposing that Mary’s heart was full of anxiety too. Anxiety has to do with being able to meet the challenge of the moment. If you have to deal with something, and it’s right on top of you, then that’s when you feel anxiety.
Mary had plenty of reason for anxiety on this night. The baby was on the way ... now! Yes, Joseph, I mean now. As in contractions every five minutes. I know the innkeeper said there was no room; but we have to do something!
And add to that the anxiety of having no clothes for the baby except some random blankets, and no warmth except for that old scratchy straw, and no privacy ... look at all these smelly animals and their equally smelly shepherds gawking at us!
And on top of that, the only reason, humanly speaking, they were in Bethlehem rather than comfortably at home, was to pay taxes. To give money they didn’t have to a government they didn’t like for programs they didn’t want. I would guess that if Mary and Joseph had been in the House of Representatives, they would have voted for a government shutdown in a New York minute, or I guess I should say, in a Jerusalem minute! What an anxious thing to have to worry about money when there are so many other things going on in your life. Many of you know about that.
If anxiety has to do with just surviving, getting through the stuff that comes your way today, Mary was surely pondering that in her heart. The heart fills up.
C
And then, too, Mary’s heart had to have been pondering the future and wondering just what was in it. For all the promises of Gabriel; for all the assurances of her cousin Elizabeth; for all the adoration of the shepherds and the glorias of the angels; for all of that, you know that Mary had to wonder whether she was up to the task of parenting the Christ child. She had to have felt some fear, some pessimism, that the future might be too difficult. In fact, in just a few days, when she and Joseph would take their infant to the Temple for the rite of circumcision, the old priest Simeon would confirm her worst fears by telling her that because of this child a sword would pierce her own soul too. Mary was just like any of us who are parents; we wonder whether we are going to be adequate for so awesome a responsibility. Just like any of us who take on any sort of responsibility, whether it is at work or at home or in the church or in the community, will we be equal to the task? Mary wondered and worried about the future.
She pondered it all, and the heart filled up.
III
But we are here this morning to remind the Marys of the good news. We are here to proclaim to everyone who feels weary with the past, anxious about the present, and fearful of the future, that there is one who is the friend of the full heart. There is one who is able to lift our burdens and carry our loads, there is one whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light, and who will speak peace unto His people.
This child, this infant, this Jesus. This little mound of squalling human flesh. In Him lie the hopes and fears of all the years. In Him the promise of God has become flesh and dwells among us. Listen to the Good News:
A
The infant of Bethlehem grew to manhood, accepted His calling from the Father, and taught the gospel of peace. Until one day the guilty could take him no more. Those whose guilt was great and whose shame was out of control seized Him. That lovely infant flesh, now three and thirty years old, they tore, and they hung Him on a tree. They killed Him, and thought they had dealt with their guilt. They slew Him, and supposed they had blotted out their past.
But little did they know that He who had come in glory, now dying in squalor, was paying the price for their sin and for their guilt. He was, in His body and His blood, giving His precious life so that their sins might indeed be blotted out and their past forgiven. Little did they know.
But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities, and the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed. "Oh holy child of 8ethlehem, descend to us, we pray; cast out our sin and enter in, be born in us today." Our full hearts do not have to be burdened with guilt. He is the friend of the full heart.
B
And more. The infant of Bethlehem, grown to manhood, slain on the cross, did something more. Something wonderful. The infant of Bethlehem, that precious life, slain for the sins of humanity, rose again. He did not stay dead. He rose from death! And in His living He refreshes us. He gives us power to become the sons and daughters of the living God. He renews us, He builds our strength, He enables us. He lives! And because He lives, we can face today; because He lives, victory is ours. Because Christ lives, you and I can deal with today’s issues, knowing that it is His will that each of His children should succeed. Knowing that it is His will that each of us should respond to the challenge of the hour. "We can do all things through Christ, who strengthens us."
The heart is full, yes. But just as the death of Christ takes away the guilt and the weariness of the past, so also the risen life of Christ brings power to the present, and our anxieties vanish. Full hearts, yes. But He has good news for the challenges of the present. He is the friend of the full heart.
C
And yet more. Yet more. One thing more. The infant of 8ethlehem, slain on the cross, rising from the tomb, is coming again. He will come. He is on the horizon. He will come again.
Good news for the past, good news for the present; and good news for the future.
He is coming again, and when He comes, there will be complete victory. There will be vindication for all who are oppressed and joy for all who have shared in His work. He is coming again, and when that day comes, all our incompleteness will be complete; all our unfinished tasks will be finished; all our emptiness will be filled up. When that day comes, we will find we need never have feared the future. For on that day, think of it: you and I who know Him will be seated around the throne, and every eye shall behold Him, and every tongue confess that He is King of Kings and Lord of lords. Hallelujah!
Good news, even for the future. "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight."
Oh, yes, Mary, keep all these things, ponder them in your heart. Of course. "But Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you mourn. Some of these mornings, bright and fair, Take my wings and cleave the air. Oh Mary, don’t you weep."
For your Son is the friend of the full heart.
