Sermon Audio

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.”

Sing lullaby! Lullaby baby, now reclining, sing lullaby!
Hush, do not wake the infant King.
Angels are watching, stars are shining
Over the place where He is lying:
Sing lullaby!

We have once again come to the time of year where we like to marvel at a baby lying in a stable. We look into this stable to see a mother and father gathered around a manger—a feeding trough—in which, swaddled, is a baby. And this is not just any baby, this is the infant King. We imagine a glorious scene, and rightfully so—angels watching and stars shining—it is glorious, though outwardly it may not appear so. I mean, who would lay their infant to rest in a manger?

To be blunt, God would. The scene is glorious, despite what the eye sees, because the Word became flesh, and that is Him in the trough! Make no mistake, the baby is God—he does not represent God or symbolize God. He will not be a vessel by which God will one day dwell with His people. This baby—two arms, two legs, two eyes, 10 fingers, 10 toes, heart beating at 140 beats-per-minute—is God as much as He would, some 33 year later, take bread and say, “This is my body,” and take a cup of wine and say, “This is my blood.” (cf. Mark 14:22-24, emphasis added) This is the real God, right there, right now, in the flesh, real as much as He would, some 30 years later say, “My flesh is real food.” (cf. John 6:55, emphasis added)

“Joy to the world, the Lord is come!” “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us,” and He became flesh in the same way we did, and if you were born in a barn, very much the same way you did. He was born—God was born. Let that sink in for a bit—God was born!

What does that mean? God is enfleshed. God, who is Spirit as Jesus says (cf. John 4:24), is enfleshed; He has a body and reasonable soul—two arms, two legs, two eyes, 10 fingers, 10 toes, a heart beating at 140 beats-per-minute. God is now manifest among His creation. God has physicality to Him; He will walk one day and leave footprints behind, He will eat and drink, He will leave impressions both upon the minds of people and upon real, physical objects as He moves from place to place, He can be touched...He can bleed!

Sing lullaby! Lullaby baby, now a-sleeping, sing lullaby!
Hush, do not wake the infant King.
Soon will come sorrow with the morning,
Soon will come bitter grief and weeping:
Sing lullaby!

We are beginning to tread into uncomfortable territory. Peaceful scenes of babies are well and good. The world likes these. But to say that the baby that we “Oooh” and “aaah” at is God is taking things just a little too far. If there is a god, we would prefer to have a god that is distant and unapproachable and unconcerned with life on this rock we call Earth. That way, we can do things our way, make our own rules, define what is right and wrong for us, we can be the center of our attention. Be damned, all those who would talk about sin, call us sinners, and tell us we need to repent. Yeah, we’ll give that up for the moment of a peaceful scene of a baby, but it doesn’t take long for things to return to us, to be about us again.

A god who dwells among us shatters all of that. God is not supposed to be here; He is supposed to be “up there, somewhere.” God is not supposed to have a body and blood. God is not supposed to be like us; if anything, we should try to be more like Him, puff ourselves up to think that we are like Him or better than Him. He’s not supposed to come down to us, we’re supposed to go up to Him, and if that doesn’t work, get angry at God and get along with our self-centered existences. It’s about us, down here, right now, not God up there and certainly not God down here with us.

To the world, Christmas is fine, to a point. It’s fine to do the “Ooohing” and “Aaahing.” In that and no further, the world and our Old Adam revels as if celebrating a happy holiday, but it’s best not to acknowledge the infant as the King of kings and Lord of lords.

Why? Well, because there has to be a reason that God is dwelling among us. And the self-centeredness of our existences assumes that God is coming to us to butt in and take over, even though we may rightfully know that God is Lord of all. After all, we recreate and reshape God in our own image: if my life is about myself and no one else, then everyone else is an enemy, and God must be like me, and in that He is the worst enemy of them all. Old Adam would damn any who talk about sin and accuse him of sinning, though deep down he fears the coming of God the King because He knows that He has sinned against God—that He is sin. For example, you need look no further than Herod and His rage against all male children 2 years and younger in an attempt to hold on to his throne and power against this infant King. And, let’s admit it, if we were in Herod’s place, we would seek to do the same.

As those who have been given faith in this infant King, we know the reason that God dwelt among us: His great love for us, over and above Himself. The world has it all wrong; our Old Adam has it all wrong. God is not like us—when it comes to us, He would rather be damned than to see us damn ourselves.

Sing lullaby! Lullaby baby, now a-dozing, sing lullaby!
Hush, do not wake the infant King.
Soon comes the cross, the nails, the piercing,
Then in the grave at last reposing;
Sing lullaby!

So, He came, as fully human as you and me, and dwelt among us. The Word became flesh—flesh and blood like you and me—in order to give that flesh and spill that blood in our place. Our “Ooohing” and “Aaahing” at the infant in a stable takes on new meaning. We look into that scene and see it for the glory that God presents to us there. Yes, God is enfleshed; yes, He is an infant, two arms, two legs, two eyes, 10 fingers, 10 toes, a heart beating at 140 beats-per-minute—and He is your Savior and Redeemer, all less-than-10-pounds of Him. That’s the glory of God over which the angels watched and the stars shone.

He came as infant—as one of us—for the cross, the nails, the piercing, and the reposing in the grave. He came to be damned in our place—to be forsaken for us. Yes, this little infant, the Word of God who cannot yet utter an intelligible word would 33 years later be lifted up to die and utter, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” (Mark 15:34) in our place.

While the world is pleased enough to celebrate Christmas to a point and disconnect it from the rest of the life of the Christ, those who believe in Him and trust in Him solely for their salvation see the Nativity of Our Lord differently. Dr. David Scaer observed:

At the beginning of this happy season, we Christians suffer from no delusions. Christmas is not a separate season, but only the introduction to Lent. The infant Jesus escapes the king’s wrath but only for a little while. In the meantime other infants dies in His place. So it was with the Old Testament saints who were martyred in anticipation of Christ’s martyrdom. The sword that pierces the heart of the Virgin Mother of God is part of the Christmas story. Shepherd will only find Jesus if they find the babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, cloths preparing His infant body for death. In those cloths you will not only find a mere human being or another martyr. In those cloths you will find the Savior, Christ the Lord.

And so it is that the evangelist St. John wrote,

And of His fullness we have all received, and grace for grace. For the law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.

We have all received the fullness of Christ; He came to give His all, and His all He gave to all, grace for grace. We who cannot bear to have God dwell among us, receive Him as He comes to us in grace, and to those who have received faith in Him, receive Him as Lord and King, not self-centered ruler, but as selfless servant.

Thank God that His coming shatters our self-centeredness. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us; He came selflessly and in great humility, born in a barn and laid in a trough. His life would be one of complete selflessness and service, completely counter to the self-centeredness of the world, but completely in line with His own Law and Commandments. In His selfless service, He took our selfishness to the cross and was crucified with it, suffering the full wrath of God for it. In return, He fills us with grace upon grace, with grace and truth.

By all accounts, Christ’s death and burial were quite inglorious, and rightfully so; self-centeredness seeks after glory—seeks to attain glory by any means possible at the expense of all else, thumbing its nose at God—and for it deserves that most inglorious thing we see on the cross of Christ. Yet, even Christ’s cross is glorious despite appearances, much like His manger, for there is won the victory over this sin and self-centeredness—over all sin. As much as Christ’s birth was humble and looked inglorious, it was God’s glorious presence for you, so much was Christ’s death and burial humble and did it look inglorious, and it, too, was God’s glorious work for you.

Therefore, this Christmas, and every, we look into the stable to find the enfleshed God, and we look upon Him with an eye toward Lent and Good Friday. We see in the infant our Savior who would one day take our place under the wrath of God, who would shout out in our place, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” He is come to die for you, to give His body and shed His blood in place of you and yours. Still, this Christmas, and every, He comes and gives you His body and blood, the same with which He was born, the same which was nailed upon the tree of the cross, the same which reposed in the grave. He is come and died for you, dear Baptized, therefore you are forgiven for all of your sins.

Oh, but wait, I cannot be done yet. As much as Christmas is the introduction to Lent, it is also the introduction to what would come next. After all, the infant is the immortal God.

Sing lullaby! Lullaby! Is the babe awaking? Sing lullaby!
Hush, do not stir the infant King.
Soon will come Easter, gladsome morning.
Conquering death, its bondage breaking:
Sing lullaby!