That Baby is God – "In the Flesh"
Christmas Day
John 1:1-14
It was the day after Christmas at a church in San Francisco. The pastor of the church was looking over the Nativity scene when he noticed that the baby Jesus was missing from among the figures.
Immediately he turned, went outside, and saw a little boy with a red wagon.
In the wagon was the figure of the infant Jesus. So, he walked up to the boy and said, "Well, where did you get Him, my fine friend?"
The little boy replied, "I got Him from the church."
"And why did you take Him?"
The boy said, "Well, about a week before Christmas I prayed to the Lord Jesus and I told Him if He would bring me a red wagon for Christmas I would give Him a ride around the block in it.
We know what to do with a new-born baby. Babies require tender care. We wrap them up in much clothing. We change their diapers as often as needed – sometimes more, and occasionally, less. We rub skin softeners on them, and we take them to the doctor at the least little sign of discomfort. We protect them with all of our abilities – knowing that they are totally dependent on us – for nurture, for safety – and as they grow, for knowledge, opportunity, possibility.
But what do we do with this baby – this baby Jesus, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a cattle stall in a dusty little town on the edge of the desert? What do we do with God in the flesh – needy, fragile, as tenuous as life itself? How will we protect our God/child? How will we nurture the Son of God – The Eternal Word now flesh? He is so vulnerable. He is so small.
So many questions. Just last week, I read a discussion on a blog about the divinity of Christ. One of the writers was presenting a rather strong case that Jesus never claimed to be God. And virtually everyone else writing in this dialogue presented just as strong a case that Jesus was actually God in the flesh. This is a discussion that has gone on for centuries. You see, we have a hard time getting our minds around this idea – that God could become human – could take on the form of man, and live with skinned knees, an occasionally broken heart, human desires and human needs. We have a hard time getting our minds around God in the flesh.
Scripture paints a startling picture. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Christ was eternally a part of the Godhead – even before the foundation of the world. Christ participated in the formation of the world. Christ was a part of the guidance and development of God’s eternal plan for all of us who have walked this planet. And when the right time came, Christ became the central figure in the redemption of mankind, offering His life as a worthy sacrifice for our sins. And the scriptures go on to tell us that when time as we know it ends, Christ will rule the universe, sitting at the right hand of God for all of eternity.
Christ was begotten of God, but not from the beginning. Christ was begotten when He became a person – a human being – in the form of a baby. Much has been made of His parentage – of the lowly role of Joseph – of the exalted role of his mother, Mary – of the involvement of the Holy Spirit in His conception. There have been so many theories propagated – so many scandalous ideas developed and taught. But those ideas and those theories run smack into John’s gospel-word for us – “The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” It turns out – that baby in the manger is God – “in the flesh.”
I know the people in this room this morning. I know you – and for the most part, you aren’t struggling with whether Jesus is really God, or with questions about the mysterious miracle of the virgin birth and the incarnation of God. Your questions are more personal. You have questions birthed in the truth of John’s epistle when he says, “What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we beheld and our hands handled, concerning the Word of Life . . .” You have those kind of questions. They are personal questions. How will I handle the Christ? How will I protect this infant child – God in the flesh? How will I serve Him? What difference does His coming really make in my life – as I live it every day? Those are your questions. They are personal, and they are yours.
I could be wrong. Your questions this year might center around belief. You might find need in your life to do some personal study. You might need to delve into the scriptures and see what they have to say about the Christ. You might need to go back and read the early church fathers, or read the theologians of the reformation. You might need to start attending a Sunday School class and start asking questions about this baby who came to save the world. You might need to strengthen and affirm your belief in the Christ. If that is the case, you have not a moment to lose. This life is precious, and your system of faith – your beliefs – are not to be discounted, compromised, or conceded. Your personal system of faith support and belief is worthy of your best efforts, your time, and your energies.
Perhaps your care for Jesus will center around personal devotion this year. Did you catch any of the discussions – on the television and on the internet – about the number of churches that were canceling Christmas services, simply because the holiday came on a Sunday, and thus produced a perceived conflict between family, presents, and worship? I was rather astonished. I understand the motives behind some of this – even the more pure motives. Our churches are like our families – we have competing priorities. We have competition between work and play and worship, and sometimes it is difficult to balance all of these priorities. I understand that. But on this holy day, I have one question. Whose birthday are we celebrating? There is much time for family and presents and Christmas dinner – and there is much time for worship of our Lord.
This same struggle with competing priorities sometime enters into our devotional life. It can be difficult to balance our work, family, recreation, honey-dos, and all of the other things which creep into the ever increasing busyness of our lives. When that is the case, we do well to take notice that our first devotion is to the One who redeemed us from our sin, and who calls us to a life which is “set apart.” That may be your focus for this year, caring for this God who became a baby. You may need to schedule a personal time each day when you devote yourself to God. You may want to remind yourself with every breath of your days that it is Christ who dwells in you. You may want to commit yourself to offering your personal acts of devotion to this Christ who came into this world that we might have life.
Your questions of care for this Christ in the manger may be focused on your service. We best serve Christ by serving others. I am always impressed with the variety of ways you choose to attempt to serve others. Then some of you spread yourselves thin, trying to serve. This congregation of servants has a heart for people who are less fortunate than we are. You may choose to be more intentional about how you serve people who are truly in need. You may choose to join others in efforts which are larger than your own efforts.
And then again, your focus in serving and caring for this baby in the manger may be on your witness. I need to tell you a funny story. Wednesday night, I set my alarm so as to get me up a little early on Thursday. I thought I might make a quick morning run through a field or two, and perhaps harvest a pheasant. On Thursday, the alarm went off, and I rolled over to go back to bed. Later in the day, Gary Shields called to see if I wanted to hunt Friday morning. I declined – this sermon was not yet really conceived, much less finished, and I knew that I had company coming into town, and so, I declined. Well, on Friday afternoon, I called Gary to see how his hunt went Friday. His alarm went off, and he rolled back over to sleep some more. We laughed about the need to invite a friend – the friend coming to your house means that you better get up and get ready. Gary said, “Yeah, you know how serious you are about hunting when you invite a friend to go along.”
I told him I was going to steal his line for this sermon. It’s the same with our faith. You can tell how serious we are about our faith by whether we invite any friends to go along. I’m not talking just about church, although that’s a pretty good start. We ought to invite our friends to church. We’re like that little boy with the wagon, who said, "I got Him from the church." Most of us were first introduced to this baby who is God in the flesh when we were at church. But more than inviting someone to go to church, we need to be inviting people to meet Jesus. He’s changed our lives, and He’ll change their lives, as well.
Well, I’ve been a little preachy this Christmas day. I want to close with a poem I read this week. You know, two months ago, I met with four other pastors in a little town in Kansas to think about our sermons for Advent and Christmas. We may do the same thing leading up to Easter. Anyway, Steve Graham brought along copies of some poems that Eugene Peterson wrote some time back. I share with you this morning “The Cradle.”
For us who have only known approximate fathers
And mothers manqué, this child is a surprise:
A sudden coming true of all we hoped
Might happen. Hoarded hopes fed by prophecies,
Old sermons and song fragments, now cry
Coo and gurgle in the cradle, a babbling
Proto-language which as soon as it gets
A tongue (and we, of course, grow open ears)
Will say the big nouns: joy, glory, peace;
And live the best verbs: love, forgive, save.
Along with the swaddling clothes the words are washed
Of every soiling sentiment, scrubbed clean of
All failed promises, then hung in the world’s
Backyard dazzling white, billowing gospel.[1]
That baby in the manger is God – “in the flesh.” Let’s care for Him, as if He were our very own.
Immediately he turned, went outside, and saw a little boy with a red wagon.
In the wagon was the figure of the infant Jesus. So, he walked up to the boy and said, "Well, where did you get Him, my fine friend?"
The little boy replied, "I got Him from the church."
"And why did you take Him?"
The boy said, "Well, about a week before Christmas I prayed to the Lord Jesus and I told Him if He would bring me a red wagon for Christmas I would give Him a ride around the block in it.
We know what to do with a new-born baby. Babies require tender care. We wrap them up in much clothing. We change their diapers as often as needed – sometimes more, and occasionally, less. We rub skin softeners on them, and we take them to the doctor at the least little sign of discomfort. We protect them with all of our abilities – knowing that they are totally dependent on us – for nurture, for safety – and as they grow, for knowledge, opportunity, possibility.
But what do we do with this baby – this baby Jesus, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a cattle stall in a dusty little town on the edge of the desert? What do we do with God in the flesh – needy, fragile, as tenuous as life itself? How will we protect our God/child? How will we nurture the Son of God – The Eternal Word now flesh? He is so vulnerable. He is so small.
So many questions. Just last week, I read a discussion on a blog about the divinity of Christ. One of the writers was presenting a rather strong case that Jesus never claimed to be God. And virtually everyone else writing in this dialogue presented just as strong a case that Jesus was actually God in the flesh. This is a discussion that has gone on for centuries. You see, we have a hard time getting our minds around this idea – that God could become human – could take on the form of man, and live with skinned knees, an occasionally broken heart, human desires and human needs. We have a hard time getting our minds around God in the flesh.
Scripture paints a startling picture. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Christ was eternally a part of the Godhead – even before the foundation of the world. Christ participated in the formation of the world. Christ was a part of the guidance and development of God’s eternal plan for all of us who have walked this planet. And when the right time came, Christ became the central figure in the redemption of mankind, offering His life as a worthy sacrifice for our sins. And the scriptures go on to tell us that when time as we know it ends, Christ will rule the universe, sitting at the right hand of God for all of eternity.
Christ was begotten of God, but not from the beginning. Christ was begotten when He became a person – a human being – in the form of a baby. Much has been made of His parentage – of the lowly role of Joseph – of the exalted role of his mother, Mary – of the involvement of the Holy Spirit in His conception. There have been so many theories propagated – so many scandalous ideas developed and taught. But those ideas and those theories run smack into John’s gospel-word for us – “The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” It turns out – that baby in the manger is God – “in the flesh.”
I know the people in this room this morning. I know you – and for the most part, you aren’t struggling with whether Jesus is really God, or with questions about the mysterious miracle of the virgin birth and the incarnation of God. Your questions are more personal. You have questions birthed in the truth of John’s epistle when he says, “What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we beheld and our hands handled, concerning the Word of Life . . .” You have those kind of questions. They are personal questions. How will I handle the Christ? How will I protect this infant child – God in the flesh? How will I serve Him? What difference does His coming really make in my life – as I live it every day? Those are your questions. They are personal, and they are yours.
I could be wrong. Your questions this year might center around belief. You might find need in your life to do some personal study. You might need to delve into the scriptures and see what they have to say about the Christ. You might need to go back and read the early church fathers, or read the theologians of the reformation. You might need to start attending a Sunday School class and start asking questions about this baby who came to save the world. You might need to strengthen and affirm your belief in the Christ. If that is the case, you have not a moment to lose. This life is precious, and your system of faith – your beliefs – are not to be discounted, compromised, or conceded. Your personal system of faith support and belief is worthy of your best efforts, your time, and your energies.
Perhaps your care for Jesus will center around personal devotion this year. Did you catch any of the discussions – on the television and on the internet – about the number of churches that were canceling Christmas services, simply because the holiday came on a Sunday, and thus produced a perceived conflict between family, presents, and worship? I was rather astonished. I understand the motives behind some of this – even the more pure motives. Our churches are like our families – we have competing priorities. We have competition between work and play and worship, and sometimes it is difficult to balance all of these priorities. I understand that. But on this holy day, I have one question. Whose birthday are we celebrating? There is much time for family and presents and Christmas dinner – and there is much time for worship of our Lord.
This same struggle with competing priorities sometime enters into our devotional life. It can be difficult to balance our work, family, recreation, honey-dos, and all of the other things which creep into the ever increasing busyness of our lives. When that is the case, we do well to take notice that our first devotion is to the One who redeemed us from our sin, and who calls us to a life which is “set apart.” That may be your focus for this year, caring for this God who became a baby. You may need to schedule a personal time each day when you devote yourself to God. You may want to remind yourself with every breath of your days that it is Christ who dwells in you. You may want to commit yourself to offering your personal acts of devotion to this Christ who came into this world that we might have life.
Your questions of care for this Christ in the manger may be focused on your service. We best serve Christ by serving others. I am always impressed with the variety of ways you choose to attempt to serve others. Then some of you spread yourselves thin, trying to serve. This congregation of servants has a heart for people who are less fortunate than we are. You may choose to be more intentional about how you serve people who are truly in need. You may choose to join others in efforts which are larger than your own efforts.
And then again, your focus in serving and caring for this baby in the manger may be on your witness. I need to tell you a funny story. Wednesday night, I set my alarm so as to get me up a little early on Thursday. I thought I might make a quick morning run through a field or two, and perhaps harvest a pheasant. On Thursday, the alarm went off, and I rolled over to go back to bed. Later in the day, Gary Shields called to see if I wanted to hunt Friday morning. I declined – this sermon was not yet really conceived, much less finished, and I knew that I had company coming into town, and so, I declined. Well, on Friday afternoon, I called Gary to see how his hunt went Friday. His alarm went off, and he rolled back over to sleep some more. We laughed about the need to invite a friend – the friend coming to your house means that you better get up and get ready. Gary said, “Yeah, you know how serious you are about hunting when you invite a friend to go along.”
I told him I was going to steal his line for this sermon. It’s the same with our faith. You can tell how serious we are about our faith by whether we invite any friends to go along. I’m not talking just about church, although that’s a pretty good start. We ought to invite our friends to church. We’re like that little boy with the wagon, who said, "I got Him from the church." Most of us were first introduced to this baby who is God in the flesh when we were at church. But more than inviting someone to go to church, we need to be inviting people to meet Jesus. He’s changed our lives, and He’ll change their lives, as well.
Well, I’ve been a little preachy this Christmas day. I want to close with a poem I read this week. You know, two months ago, I met with four other pastors in a little town in Kansas to think about our sermons for Advent and Christmas. We may do the same thing leading up to Easter. Anyway, Steve Graham brought along copies of some poems that Eugene Peterson wrote some time back. I share with you this morning “The Cradle.”
For us who have only known approximate fathers
And mothers manqué, this child is a surprise:
A sudden coming true of all we hoped
Might happen. Hoarded hopes fed by prophecies,
Old sermons and song fragments, now cry
Coo and gurgle in the cradle, a babbling
Proto-language which as soon as it gets
A tongue (and we, of course, grow open ears)
Will say the big nouns: joy, glory, peace;
And live the best verbs: love, forgive, save.
Along with the swaddling clothes the words are washed
Of every soiling sentiment, scrubbed clean of
All failed promises, then hung in the world’s
Backyard dazzling white, billowing gospel.[1]
That baby in the manger is God – “in the flesh.” Let’s care for Him, as if He were our very own.
Richard W. Dunn, PhD.
posted by the sojourning pilgrim | 9:29 AM
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