(Meditation for Gayton Road Christian Church's Christmas Eve Candlelight Service, 2017)
We Look Up to the Heavens
I don’t know about your Christmas
family traditions. But in my
family, one of the perennial debates was what to place on top of the Christmas
tree. A star? Or an angel? Or simply a bow?
For days this debate could consume us. One morning, I would wake up and walk by the living room,
and a star would be resting serenly on top. The next day, I would walk by, and lo and behold—an angel
had supplanted it!
Much of Christmas happens above
us. We hang lights and bows above
us, maybe holly or mistletoe. And
of course, stars and angels. At
Christmas we look up.
But are bright lights and
beautiful ornaments the only reason we look up? I wonder if we’re not looking up for more.
What do you really want this
Christmas? Many of us wouldn’t
dare say it, or perhaps even think it, but a cure for our friends and family
who are suffering senseless disease would be a good start. And there are billions more in this
world who are broken by poverty and hunger and oppression, not because they
deserve that—who deserves that?—but because others do not care. So an end to crooked business and bad
guys and war would be nice, too, this Christmas.
Are bright lights and beautiful ornaments
the only reason we look up?
Perhaps in our heart of hearts, we’re looking up because we’re looking
for God. We’re looking for someone
who will tear open the heavens and come to us with might and magic enough to
set the world right. Perhaps Homer Simpson prays for all of us, when he
exclaims, “I’m not normally a praying man…but if you’re up there, please save
me, Superman!”[1] “Superman” as a term of address for God
may raise the eyebrows of theologians, but it captures very well what we are
all looking up for from time to time: a divine fix. A supernatural solution.[2]
The Heavens Point Us Back Down to Earth
We’re not alone looking up
tonight. The story of Christmas
Eve is all about looking up. The
shepherds lift their eyes to the angels.
The wise men study a star.
Both look up to the heavens. If they are hoping for a supernatural
solution or an immediate divine fix to the problems in their world, they will
be sorely disappointed. The
heavens do not hold the answer.
The heavens point them back down to earth. To a little child.
To a bundle of need, an armful of cries for food and warmth and
love. Less of a solution, and more
of an invitation, you might say.
Neither the shepherds nor the
wise men are disappointed. Quite
the opposite. Luke says that the
shepherds glorified and praised God, and Matthew says that the wise men were
overwhelmed with joy.
Whatever it is that we’re looking
to the heavens for tonight—well, let’s not be surprised if we find instead that
the heavens are pointing us back down to earth, not to a solution, but to an
invitation—to the nooks and crannies in our own world where the little Christ
cries and invites our love. And
even if that does leave us a little disappointed, let us not forget the
shepherds and the stargazers and their joy. What did they behold in that little child, I wonder, that
led them back into a broken world rejoicing?
Could we behold that tonight too?
Prayer
Child Christ,
With all our wishes
We look up to the heavens,
And the heavens point us
Down
To you:
Newborn and needy,
Speechless and helpless;
God with us,
An invitation to love.
Abide with us, Christ,
And invite us on your way. Amen.
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