Sermon - December 27, 2009
White Christmas
Matthew 2:18-25
Before Alaska became a state, my grandfather
once told me that the one place in the United States that had 100% chance of a
white Christmas every year:
International Falls, Minnesota. This must have been Iowa's year! There's enough
snow out there to fill Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana and half of Canada! None
of us celebrated Christmas the way we thought we would. It is the first time in
24 years of ministry that I didn't celebrate a traditional Christmas Eve
service. So before we slide into the New Year, let us honor the birth of our
Lord by giving Him the adoration we would have on Thursday night. This morning's
message is the one that was to be delivered Christmas Eve, and since every
Christmas eve I tell a story, it is not a sermon, but a story whose author is
unkown.
It was Christmas Eve. The train was
crowded and the only seat left was beside a youth who looked about 15, maybe.
So the minister set down his carry-on and sat beside the boy. Trying to be
pleasant company, he made a casual comment about how everyone was hurrying home
for Christmas. Flights canceled and airports closed on account of the weather,
the train was the next best option. But
the youth did not speak. So the minister turned away and gazed out the window to
the snow-covered landscape. It certainly would be a white Christmas. He thought
to himself “a youth alone on Christmas, how sad.” When the minister turned his
head, he saw the boy wipe his eyes and pretend nothing was wrong. The minister
smiled, and the boy gave a wobbly grin and said softly, “It looks awful cold out
there.” Then to engage the youth in conversation the minister began to tell him
of the cold days when he was a boy, milking two cows in sub-zero weather, and
the warm joy of a roaring fire in the living room after chores had been done.
Then he offered, “You know I sometimes think we can stand almost anything if we
have something nice to look forward to. Take me for instance – I've been
traveling for a long time, and I have a good long trip ahead of me yet, but I
know that when I do get home, my family will be waiting for me, and my little
boy will be looking forward to his Christmas presents. It's a great thing –
going home for Christmas. The boy quivered and choked back a sob, then answered
hesitantly, “sometimes.”
The preacher silently rebuked himself. “Clumsy stupid remark! Perhaps the
boy has recently lost his mother or father.” Then aloud he said, “Excuse me, son
– I may have said the wrong thing, I don't know about your troubles, and you
don't have to tell me – unless you want to. But I'm a preacher, and I might be
able to help you with your problems.
The boy looked in the man's face with soulful eyes. “I want to tell you –
I've got to tell some one.”
“Let's hear it.”
The youth tilted his head back, the looked
out the window to the blur of a blizzard,
“I don't deserve a Christmas, but I can't help wanting one. I ran away from
home four months ago. I hated school, all the chores. Nothing fun to do. Dad
runs a store and farms on the side. We live on the far edge of town. I got tired
of milking cows before daylight, giving them feed and water after school. All my
friends were getting jobs. I was mad and bored, and one day just ran away from
home. I didn't think much about where I'd go or what I'd do. I just left. Jumped
a freight train early one morning and I was outta there.
That night I was in St. Louis. Never seen a place so big before. I was
scared. I had a little money, but that didn't last long. I thought I could pass
for three years older than I am. Tried to get a job, but they told me to go back
home. Well, that was the trouble. I knew my parents would be angry with me. I
dreaded to go sneaking back like a whipped dog. Man was I lonesome, and homesick
- especially at night. I hung out with another boy at his home, but it wasn't
at all like mine.”
The minister listened intently as the boy took a deep heavy sigh,
paused, and went on. “I wrote my dad.
I didn't tell him where I was. I just told him I would be on this train today.
If they still wanted me, I'd stop. If they didn't want me – and I wouldn't
blame them if they didn't – I'd stay on the train and just keep going. I
suppose it was a dumb thing to do, but I just couldn't stand getting a letter
from Dad telling me they didn't want me back. And I didn't want him to come
after me. So I figured out a way that would be easier for all of us. But now
I'm scared.”
The preacher looked at his young traveling companion and knew that the boy
meant every word. “What are you afraid of, son?” he asked.
The boy looked straight in the man's face, his eyes glistening with swelling
tears, “I'm afraid they won't want me.
“But how will you know?”
The youth rubbed his fist on the
steamy window pane until a small spot was clear. It was growing dark, and the
snow was coming fast, but the few houses stood out against the soft fuzzy sky.
His voice was low, “Just a little farther. Then he hid his eyes. “I can't
look,”he blurted desparately. I can't!
“What are you looking for? Some sign to let you know they are expecting you?”
“Yes, that's it.” was his muffled reply. “I told Dad in my letter, if they
wanted me back, to tie white rag in the old apple tree in the front yard. It's
near the railroad tracks, and we can clearly see it. We're almost there now. I
can't look!” His face was hot with tears.
The minister's eyes were also misty with compassion for his young friend.
Leaning over, he patted the boy's shoulders and offered. “That's all right,
son; you don't have to look. I'll be your eyes- I'll tell you when I see it.”
“But I'm afraid you won't see it,” the youth sobbed. “I'm afraid they won't
tie the rag there. I'm afraid they won't want me any more.”
Suddenly the train whistle broke upon them and the boy sat up. His voice
panicked “We're almost there! You look and see – I can't.”
The train slowed to a stop as it came around a long curve. The minister
stained his eyes to peer through the dark and falling snow. He must not fail.
But he had no need to worry. Even a half blind man could have seen that big old
apple tree. Laughing and crying the minister pulled the youth up to the window.
“Look and see for yourself, the apple tree has completely bloomed out. Funny
looking blossoms though!” Indeed, on those bare branches hung not one rag, but
at hundreds gaily fluttering in the brisk snowy breeze - like victory banners
of forgiving love.
This story predates the song, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree,”
but it's message is fresh as the snow that fell on Christmas Eve. When we wander
off from God, we are so afraid to come back, afraid that after all that was
said and done, God will not want us. God will not have us. Nothing could be
farther from the truth. God has told us that in His Word, but He has shown us
that through His Word made flesh, Jesus.
God became a Child - a frail human
being, like us, our brother. And yet He is God, He is might. In the poverty of a
manger, is His might. It is the might of His divine love that bridged the chasm
between God and all of humanity. It is the might of divine love that overpowers
sin and death. The might of this child forgives sin and awakens souls from the
dead. Bow your hearts before this manger child, this little one of poor people,
and know He is Your God, Your mighty God.
God became a child, Prince of Peace. Through this babe wrapped in swaddling
clothes God Came to human beings to reconcile us to Himself, and make peace
between us. In the world, power reigns, but this child is the Prince of Peace
and where He is, peace reigns.
God became a child. And the authority of this Child will increase until it
encompasses all the earth wittingly or unwittingly, all generations will serve
Him until the end of time. He has authority over hearts, and rulers,
governments, nations will wax strong or crumple under His power.
The invisible mystery of the authority of this Holy Child will be far
greater than the visible and most resplendent power of earthly rulers. Only
where Jesus is rebuked, where He is not admitted to reign because of human
stubbornness, hatred, perversion, pride, or greed, is there no peace. But where
hearts loving welcome this divine Child, worship and adore Him, submit to His
will, exquisite peace is not denied them.
On this white Christmas, O Come, let us Adore Him. O Come let us adore Him.
O Come, let us adore Him. Christ the Lord. Amen
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