A dog chewed up my first image of Jesus. I should probably explain that better, right?

When I was a child, we had a Christmas tree ornament that was a tiny nativity scene. I was allowed to hang it on the tree, and, being tiny myself, I hung it on a very low branch. Unfortunately, the following day we awoke to find that our normally well-behaved dog, Trixie, had destroyed the nativity. It was chewed into pieces and all over the floor. The following year, we found a similar replacement, and I learned to keep Jesus up higher, out of the reach of our dog's jaws.

Is Jesus fragile? Does he need our protection? Does he need our help? It's certainly possible to get that impression from the Christmas story, with him lying in a manger, surrounded by animals and pursued by old King Herod. But beyond Christmas, there are times when we forget just how powerful Jesus is and how he can completely change our lives and eternities. That vulnerable infant in the Christmas story is the conquering presence of the eternal God.

In this message, we will go to the first sentence in the letter to the Hebrews. It takes four verses to get through that one sentence! It's packed with powerful images of who that child is, and I can tell you for sure that my poor little dog Trixie would have been no match for the real thing!

DNA kits have become a popular Christmas present in the last few years, enabling people to discover connections they never realized they had. In some cases, these have led to awkward conversations about family secrets thought long buried. In other cases, it has led to amazing reunions. For example, I’ve been following the case of Melissa Highsmith, who was kidnapped 51 years ago and raised by her abductors in cruelty and abuse. Melissa’s family found her after registering with 23andMe and finding those connections. Her father says of his reunion with Melissa, “it’s unspeakable joy.”

We long for connection to each other and God. In his love for us, Jesus made that connection through his coming to us. Paul writes in Colossians 1:15, “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.” Firstborn! The older brother you never knew you had! More than that, though, he’s the one who connects us all and makes us family.

In this message, we look at the Incarnation—God with us, in the flesh. In that miraculous declaration, we find a gift that fills us with unspeakable joy. It fills us with belonging!

There’s some debate on whether or not we should call them “Wise Men.” Matthew uses the word “magi,” from which we get “magician.” Scholar Richard Vinson wonders if their presence is an allusion to the incompetent advisors in the Daniel story or even Pharaoh’s court in the time of Moses. While guided by a star, they’re still misguided, needing to stop in Jerusalem to get directions (no self-respecting wise man would ask for directions!). Vinson points out, “They have seen a new star, indicating to them the birth of a new king, but they know nothing else, which is less than the readers know.”

Maybe they weren’t the royal Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar of tradition. Perhaps we should think of them more like Moe, Larry, and Curly (Oh, wise guys, eh?)

I believe one of the reasons they’re in the Christmas story is to remind us that following stars will only get us so far. Our knowledge, wisdom, and intuition will only take us so far. Likewise, superstition and sentiment might bring comfort, but they provide no real answers. Finding God’s truth requires a path that he’s illuminated for us. Thankfully his path shines bright. John’s Gospel doesn’t begin with magi, shepherds, or angels. Rather he declares, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).

It may be that you’ve found yourself in darkness this week. Maybe it’s been the darkness of grief, fear, or worry. But, while that darkness can feel all-consuming in the moment, John assures us that it cannot overcome the light of Christ that God has brought into your world.

My first pastor passed away yesterday. Dave Butts was, among other things (like a friend and former boss), my pastor for many years. I realize that much of my ministry has been shaped by how I saw Dave, Rich Carmicheal, and others live out their callings.

As I look at my sermon text for today, I'm reminded of a quality I always appreciated in Dave—his trust in God's timing. Our church used to have attendance folders in every pew, and every Sunday morning, we'd fill out our names, whether or not we were guests or members, and check a box if we desired to be baptized. Every week, I checked "YES" next to "I desire to be baptized."

After a few weeks, Dave came to me and asked when I wanted to be baptized. My reply was, "Someday, not right now, but someday." I then asked if I had filled out the form wrong, and he assured me I hadn't. I remember asking, "You're not going to be pushy about this?" He smiled and said, "I'm not the pushy kind." Instead, he would wait until God had prepared the perfect time for me to come to him.

Paul writes in Galatians 4:4 -5, "But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons." God sent his Son in his perfect timing. Shouldn't we trust that he continues to do that as he brings Christ into the hearts of the people we love? Our pushing can never draw a heart to Jesus as well as the pull of His Spirit.

Today begins Advent; it is a season of anticipation. But we don't anticipate Jesus' arrival in Bethlehem as much as we anticipate his coming to each of us who cry out for his love and forgiveness. So we needn't be pushy but trust that God still works in his perfect timing.

It took about three years, but when the fullness of time had come, one cold Friday night in January 1984, I walked into Dave's house and let him know I was ready. He baptized me, and we celebrated with pizza. Dave lived a life of service to the Kingdom of God, and my faith tells me that yesterday, he was welcomed into eternity with the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

But I kinda suspect someone muttered under their breath, "Coulda held that one under just a little bit longer, though."

His Love Endures Forever; Psalm 136 by Bret Hammond

This past Friday, I gathered with friends to say goodbye to a wonderful lady named Joyce Hemingway. Joyce's generous spirit was repeatedly mentioned at her funeral—not just generous in how she gave but in how she welcomed. Every holiday, there were always a few extra at Joyce and John's table. They had a practice of welcoming international students from Denmark, Japan, and the Middle East into their home to celebrate Thanksgiving. It always struck me that these students had no national connection to our Thanksgiving holiday. But gratitude is an international language. Joyce's cooking was too!

I think gratitude welcomes others. When we invite others to give thanks with us, our reasons to be thankful can show them their own reasons to give thanks. You hear this in the opening verse of Psalm 118. Verse 1 calls out, "Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good." Those who hear respond, "For his steadfast love endures forever!"

Your gratitude has the power to change someone's attitude! Someone needs to hear your gratitude! Make sure you open your heart to them and tell them what God has done for you!

I stopped into my favorite hideaway yesterday for a cup of coffee and a little time to myself. Within a few minutes, the sound system started playing “Winter Wonderland.” Next up was “Run, Run Rudolph,.” A few minutes later, Freddy Mercury belted out, “Let it be Christmas every day.” I sighed while I drank my chestnut praline latte and wondered why we allow Christmas to run roughshod over Thanksgiving.

Of course, it’s a common complaint of curmudgeons my age. In our rush to get to Christmas, we forget about Thanksgiving. And while the Bible tells us of shepherds, angels, wise men, and others celebrating the birth of Jesus, it out-and-out commands us to give thanks! It even goes one better and gives us a Thanksgiving playlist in the Psalms!

In this sermon, we begin a three-week celebration of the songs of Thanksgiving. We’ll start off in Psalm 100 with a call to make a joyful noise to the Lord. If we do it loud enough, we might even drown out Mariah Carey!

NOTE: Due to copyright restrictions, I'm unable to provide Ben Rector's, "The Thanksgiving Song." It can be found at this link: https://youtu.be/QwaxNPY5nIY

This week will mark the twenty-third year since my brother’s death as a victim of suicide. Twenty-three years is a lot of time for perspective. I know mine has changed over the years, and I sometimes wonder how Brad’s perspective would have changed if he had given it time. Would the burdens that felt unmanageable at forty-nine years old have been just distant memories at seventy-two? I would like to believe they would have.

An old Swedish proverb says, “a joy shared is a doubled joy. A burdened shared is half a burden.” Studies have shown that two proven methods for reducing the risk of suicide are an increased sense of belonging and a decreased burden. In other words, a joy shared and a burden halved. Or, as the apostle Paul would say, “bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).

We began in October with “love one another” (which is the law of Christ), and today we arrive at “bear one another’s burdens” with the realization that there are stresses none of us were ever meant to carry alone. The burdens we bear together might give someone the time to develop a perspective that can change their lives. That would genuinely multiply our joy!

Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 12 that the church is the body of Christ, comparing the church's individual members with the members of the human body. I've always heard this as a metaphor for how we serve together. Hands and feet of Jesus, working and moving us together. Eyes and ears, seeing the needs around us, and hearing the cries of our neighbors so we can reach out to them better. However, my perspective on this metaphor has changed in recent years, and I have a sneaking suspicion that change has something to do with getting older.

I often opt for stairs instead of elevators and find my hand on the handrail, helping out my knees after a few flights. I've learned the pain in my right shoulder when I reach high probably isn't go away, so my left arm is ready to make those reaches. And then there are those times when I get on the floor to play with my granddaughter. I'm careful to lower myself down in such a way that I'm confident I can get back up again!

For me, the metaphor has become less about how we work together and more about how we care for one another, and I think that's a big part of Paul's intention here. After all, in 1 Corinthians 12:24-25, Paul writes, "God has so composed the body . . . that the members may have the same care for one another." We can work with our individual talents and gifts, but without a care for one another, we're still not serving as the body of Christ.

Mary Johnson’s story is moving and inspiring. In 1993, her 20-year-old son was shot and killed by 16-year-old Oshea Israel. Rather than being consumed by bitterness, Mary began visiting Oshea in prison, eventually telling him that she forgave him. When he was released, Mary welcomed Oshea into her home. In an interview with the two, Mary said, “I treat you as I would treat my own son.” Can we even imagine that kind of grace?

Honestly, probably not. As a preacher, I wonder how helpful these stories are for those of us struggling to let go of an offense. There are those who have not murdered our family, but through their gossip, they’ve murdered our reputations; through their bullying, they’ve wounded our children; by their social slights, they’ve hurt our feelings and done so again and again. Stories like Mary and Oshea’s are inspiring, but they can leave us feeling like failures in the pains we carry every day.

So, while I’m thankful for a fantastic mother and son relationship like Mary and Oshea’s, when I preach about “forgiving one another” today, I want you to see what grace can look like in your story—in OUR story. This is about “one another,” after all.