Another Christmas, huh?
Yup. It rolls around every year, doesn’t it? Mary, Joseph, baby, shepherds, wise men, come on, let’s pick up the pace. We know where we’re going. We go there every year, so let’s not dawdle. Come on, you at the back! Keep up.
As Christmas approaches, a pressure builds inside many church leaders. Last year, it was Luke. This year, we’re focusing on Matthew. But essentially, it’s the same story. How exactly am I supposed to, well, you know, be original?
As a former journalist, I completely understand the question. In our newsroom, every story had to have an angle. ‘What’s the angle?’ I was often asked. As we approach Christmas, many leaders are weighed down with that same question.
‘What’s the angle?’
It’s another way of asking, ‘Do you have anything new to say this year?’ And the answer comes back, ‘Nothing! Nothing is different. It’s the same every year!’ Hence the pressure, the sense that we’re failing unless we can come up with something new, something a bit edgy.
A while back, a word study in Luke provided something slightly ‘new.’ A bit edgy. The Greek word—kataluma—we discovered, didn’t refer to a commercial inn but to a guestroom. Around the church, leaders started talking about Jesus’ birth in a humble home, rather than a stable. Floor plans of first century homes—with mangers clearly identified in the lower part of the main room—proliferated. This was the angle. And it was good. I always like it when the original language of the Scriptures blows away some of the cobwebs of our historical misunderstandings. Especially when the language refers to something as important as the birth of Christ.
But was this really an angle?
I’m not so sure. It was still the same story, and here we are again this year, with the same story. It’s not as though the language is ever going to do anything but reveal what we teach every year. That Christ was born in Bethlehem.
There is no angle. That is the angle!
It doesn’t need originality or edginess or new discoveries. So extraordinary is the story that it already contains everything it needs. But what exactly makes this story the greatest of all stories?
Here are some thoughts as you prepare for your Christmas services.
BEAUTY
Have you forgotten the wonder of Christmas? Do you have any memories of Christmas from when you were young? For my part, if I close my eyes, I can still smell the musty church. I can feel the starched cassock and surplus I wore as I processed up the aisle. I can hear the majesty of John’s gospel being read aloud. I can also hear the other choir boys around me singing one beautiful anthem after another. The words, ‘For unto us a Son is born, unto us a Child is given’ are indelibly marked in my memory; I have carried them my entire life. They are etched into my soul.
The story did not require any explanation.
It was given and I received it.
I hope your own memories of Christmas from childhood are also happy ones. Perhaps the first thing to remember, then, is that when you lead a Christmas service, you are creating life-long memories for some of those who attend. So, trust the story. Trust the story to do its work. It contains enough beauty and wonder to touch a person’s soul.
THE MEDIUM IS THE MESSAGE
The Canadian philosopher, Marshall McLuhan, once coined the phrase, ‘the medium is the message’. His point was that the way in which a message is communicated is more important that the content of the message itself. The circulation of newspapers, for example, changed how a population saw the world; it changed how politicians led their nations.
What about Christmas?
The medium is the message. What medium did God choose? He—the writer—chose to enter the story he was writing about himself. That is a unique and wonderful form of communication, open only to the creator of all things. Second, he did not communicate through a system of thought or ethical theories, but through ‘story’.
Narrative is the high king and queen, the supreme ruler of all methods of communication. How can I assert that with such confidence? Because the Bible is first and foremost a story. The story is the message. So, before you even begin to give your thoughts about Luke or Matthew or John, allow the story to take centre stage in all your services.
Not the sermon, the story.
And try to see the story with the eyes of a child. This may sound a bit Hollywood to you, but try to ‘experience it again for the first time’. Enter into the wonder and stay there. Let the story speak to you. Do you know the reason why Nativity plays are still so popular? Two reasons. Stories don’t preach. Second, the story includes a birth narrative, and birth narratives touch even the hardest of hearts.
BIRTH
At first glance, woman gets pregnant, travels to a new town, gives birth, well, it doesn’t sound like much of a plot. Where’s the twist? No chases? No intrigue? But on closer inspection, there is a chase—that comes later—and the twist comes at the beginning with the arrival of Gabriel. But still.
What is it that makes this story so so special?
The birth of a baby.
I don’t really have words to express how wonderful birth is. It is certainly messy and gritty and at times a world of pain, but it is also beautiful. It brings together the vast range of our human emotions—joy and pain perfectly encapsulated in one extraordinary moment. There’s a reason why people talk about birth as a miracle. I have three children and one grandchild and I can’t really explain to you why their births feel like miracles, but they do.
But of course, the Incarnation adds something much more special.
It blows apart the idea that God has abandoned his created realm. By becoming human, God affirms the Genesis account that his creation is good. Physical stuff is good. Our bodies are not abhorrent, but good. And of course, as we know, Emmanuel means ‘God with us’. In Jesus, he has shared our common human experience. Our emotions. All of this is demonstrated in that little baby. And John chose to tell us with these beautiful words.
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.
John 1.14a
In these few Greek words, John spoke of God ‘pitching his tent’ among us. John’s gospel is so packed with wonderful ideas that a preacher could go on for days.
Please don’t!
The story is the message. Let the story do its thing. The birth narrative alone will speak merely because of the beauty it contains.
And one of the reasons it is beautiful is because of one word: hope.
HOPE
It is almost impossible to see a newborn baby and not be filled with hope. They enter this world and their lives stretch before them. They are vulnerable and weak, unable to take care of themselves. They unlock a strong desire in us to provide protection, comfort, and care. And of course, though many look like Winston or Buddha🤣, they are beautiful.
Babies fill us with hope.
Babies are beautiful and they are a gift.
But this baby? The one in the manger? He is Hope. And he is a Gift beyond all others.
STICK TO CHRISTMAS
Beauty and Hope. There is enough in those two words to fill many sermons. It’s not necessary to venture to other parts of the story when you have a section with that much wonder. That much beauty. That much hope. So, fill your sermons with those themes, but most of all . . . get out of the way.
Let the story speak. Fill your services with the drama. If you can, engage all the senses. Make room for lots of music, and pay attention to the lyrics of our most famous carols. ‘Hark the Herald’ not only contains a powerful gospel message, its beauty is undimmed centuries after it was written. Sermon? Barely needed. They’ve just heard the gospel in these timeless words.
So, let the story speak. It does not need anything ‘new’. It has no need to be ‘edgy’. It just needs a servant-heart ready to offer it with appropriate awe and reverence.
Trust the medium to speak.
The medium is God entering our human experience. The medium is a story.
Let it speak.