“But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.”
(John 1:12-13, NRSVUE)
We know well that worship is at the center of the Christian celebration of Christmas. As N.T. Wright reminds us, “One of the main reasons theology (trying to think straight about who God is) matters is that we are called to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. It matters that we learn more about who God is so we can praise him more appropriately.”
But let’s be honest. Those of us who seek to keep Christmas consistent with Scrooge’s post-ghost encounters, often find sadness mixed with our joy, weariness with our goodwill. Indeed, even those of us who welcome Christ in our hearts, leaning into Advent and other worship aides, still struggle with the pace of the holidays.
Amidst the challenges of fundraising, an erratic schedule, and lots of unknowns these last few months, I’ve tried to live with a relaxed confidence that’s consistent with “he rules the world” and Christ’s Resurrection. Despite my best efforts, however, I’ve gotten daily reminders that I’m a creature of dust. My spirit, more often than not, has been willing, but my flesh is weak. I’m sure you’ve had your share of struggles, scary “what if’s,” and unwelcome surprises this year as well.
So what do we do? Let me share a few thoughts that have encouraged me over these last two weeks. In preparation for a Christmas Eve message for our church plant, I’ve read over the famous prologue to John’s gospel (1:1-18) many times and in several versions. I’ve also had the privilege of studying it in depth as I’ve done in previous years. Because of its lofty thoughts, John’s gospel was symbolized by an eagle in the early church and his prologue specifically is “the most complete, indeed, the most explicit study of Christ’s preexistence in the New Testament.”[1] Like Nacho Libre pictured above—but in a real way, I need some of its eagle powers, and so do you (regardless of whether you’ve seen or like the crazy comedy Nacho Libre or not!). Here’s how John’s prologue helps us:
- It reminds us that the baby in the manger is eternal and preexistent. I want my grandchildren who play with our Fisher-Price® nativity set to learn over time that the baby in the manger is God incarnate; that he is Immanuel, God with us. Of course, you and I need to be regularly reminded as well, along with why these truths matter. John says that Christ is the divine Logos (Word), a concept that needs to be explained: In ancient times the divine Logos was the immanent power of God creatively at work in the world. You might think of it as wisdom personified—God’s Wisdom, a creative agent that eternally coexisted with God. John identifies the Logos/Word as Christ and gives him the same divine functions as God: creating and giving life. For the average Jew, in John’s time, logos was often equated with the Torah.[2] Certainly, the Torah, the law of Moses, contained a gracious word (logos) from God, but Jesus (the Word or the Logos) epitomizes grace and truth (1:17). He came to show us the very heart of the Father (1:18).
- It reminds us not to be naïve about the world’s desire for God. “World” is a term that’s used 78 times in John’s gospel and the world “the Logos enters and God loves is a place of remarkable unbelief.”[3] In fact, darkness is the image used here to describe its “commitments and confusions.”[4] But it was not just the world that rejected him; it was also his own people. The innkeeper in the manger story represents all of humanity. No one had room for God’s Son. He came and wasn’t welcomed by the world or even his own religious and ethnic community. For most of us, in modern parlance, this is like saying the secular elites rejected him but so did the American church. Those who identify as people of faith are not immune from darkness. We often lust for power or cultural acceptance. We often despise humble beginnings and meekness, or the call to deny ourselves and take up our cross when it comes to distorted desire.
- It reminds us to be impressed with God’s love for us, not ours for him. Thankfully, “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.” (John 1:5, NRSVUE) The verb I’ve italicized, overtake, has double significance: to grasp with mind and so to comprehend, and to grasp with the hand and so to overcome or destroy. This latter sense is primary in this context: the world not only runs from the light, it often tries to overtake or seize it with hostile intent. But God in Christ is committed to this world and won’t let that happen. Like the precious promise that opened this post (1:12-13), those who receive and believe Jesus, are given power to become God’s children. John 1:12-13 does acknowledge the importance of human acceptance in God’s transformative work but the “eagle powers” that John describes as “grace upon grace” are primarily about God’s actions, not ours. Consistent with this, I want to close with this personal reflection from theologian James Bryan Smith:
“For most of my Christian life I related to God on the basis of what I did for him. If I prayed well, studied hard, served much, and sinned little, then I felt reasonably sure God was pleased with me. I was living in a kind of fear that was paralyzing my ability to love God, love myself, and ultimately love others.
I was afraid God would look at my thoughts and withdraw his love. I was afraid my weaknesses would separate me from the love of Christ. Now I see they cannot. I was afraid my sinfulness would separate me from the love of Christ. Now I am certain that nothing will ever separate me from the love of God made visible in Christ. I see now how foolish it was to think that my feeble attempts at righteousness had anything to do with how God feels about me. For too long I was impressed with my “commitment” to Christ; now I am impressed only with Christ’s commitment to me.”[5]
[1] Gary Burge, NIV Application Commentary, 62.
[2] The New Oxford Annotated Bible, Fifth Edition: NRSV, 1920.
[3] Op. Cit., 56.
[4] Ibid., 62.
[5] Faith That Matters: 365 Devotions from Classic Christian Leaders, 371.