The Darker the Night Got, the Brighter the Star Would Shine

Hello, my friends. I’m so sorry that I can’t be there with you in person tonight. I’ve never missed a day of work, or a church service because I was sick in my life. It’s definitely strange to miss Christmas Eve because of illness—especially since I’m not. My son Angel tested positive for COVID last Saturday and current wisdom says that if I was exposed to him then I should quarantine for at least a week, then if I get a negative test, I can safely rejoin humanity. Well, this is only day five of seven. 

Angel started feeling chills and had a headache on Saturday, so that’s why we took him to get tested. He had a very mild case with mild symptoms and was back to normal by Tuesday. He stayed in his room and played video games—we left his food by his door like he was in prison. I’m pretty sure he’s been having the time of his life. Most relaxing plague ever from his perspective.

He was actually starting to feel a little funky on Friday but a couple of Advil took care of it. That was the night we had our annual Christmas Gift Wrapping Party. I make it so we can’t tell what any of the gifts are—I call it “blanking the gifts”—and then we have a competition with two-person teams to see who can wrap the most gifts in the shortest amount of time. This year the teams were Kim and me versus Angel and my dad versus Von and my brother, who was in town for a few days because he had just gotten over COVID and was still “super-immune” (they say he can’t get it again or spread it to anyone for 60 to 90 days). This year we decided to turn our Wrapping Party into a Onesie Party. Which was completely ridiculous and silly. We also exchanged gifts with him while he was here. His daughter, my niece Bella, made an action figure of me, complete with a purple stole, a black cello and a thick white Bible. Notice the NewChurch T-shirt. I’m aware that there are three ages of man: in youth we believe in Santa, in middle-age we are Santa, and at some point, we look like Santa. I’m at the point in life where if you make a Santa joke at my expense you’re dead to me. It’s all part of the process.

So, weather permitting, we’ll have our Christmas tomorrow morning outside on the patio. Those onesies are really warm, so maybe it’ll be another onesie party. Or maybe we’ll start a bonfire. Or maybe we’ll freeze to death. Whatever. It’s 2020. 

I just know Christmas is going to happen at the Hart house. I love Christmas. We take those gifts that were speed-wrapped, with no name tags on them at all, and we’ll take turns opening gifts and guessing who they belong to. This is how we do it. This is the way. It’s more fun this way. No one runs out of gifts and every gift might be yours. 

Tonight, I thought it would be good to remember the story that’s behind all this fuss. It’s Christmas. Christ Mass. The day God the Father did the most miraculous thing that’s ever happened—God the Son became part of His own creation. He walked right into the story He was writing. It’s like C.S. Lewis writing himself into the Chronicles of Narnia, or J.R.R. Tolkien suddenly appearing in The Lord of the Rings just in time to save Middle Earth. Or like the Mandalorian taking off his mask and we find out it was George Lucas all along.

One of my absolute favorite renditions of the Christmas story comes from the Jesus Storybook Bible. Sally Lloyd Jones, the author, is one of those magic people that when you meet her, she makes you want to be a better person. Like, “what have I been doing with my life while she wrote this amazing adaptation of the Bible for children?” 

Anyway, I think Christmas is a magical, nostalgic time filled with echoes of childhood wonder. So, I’m going to read the Christmas story from the Storybook Bible. This is the prologue for the whole book:

The Story “The Bible isn’t a book of rules, or a book of heroes. The Bible is most of all a Story. It’s an adventure story about a young Hero who comes from a far country to win back his lost treasure. It’s a love story about a brave Prince who leaves his palace, his throne — everything — to rescue the one he loves. It’s like the most wonderful of fairy tales that has come true in real life!

You see, the best thing about this Story is — it’s true.

There are lots of stories in the Bible, but all the stories are telling one Big Story. The Story of how God loves his children and comes to rescue them.

It takes the whole Bible to tell this story. And at the center of the Story, there is a baby. Every Story in the Bible whispers his name. He is like the missing piece in a puzzle — the piece that makes all the other pieces fit together, and suddenly you can see a beautiful picture. 

And this is no ordinary baby. This is the Child upon whom everything would depend. This is the Child who would one day…

Well, that brings us to tonight. 

Luke chapter two, read especially for us by Linus a little while ago, is where we find the Story of Jesus being born. [This is The Nativity…

He’s Here! Everything was ready. The moment God had been waiting for was here at last! God coming to help his people, just as he promised in the beginning.

But how would he come? What would he be like? What would he do?

Mountains would have bowed down. Seas would have roared. Trees would have clapped their hands. But the earth held its breath. As silent as snow falling, he came in. And when no one was looking, in the darkness, he came.

There was a young girl who was engaged to a man named Joseph. (Joseph was the great-great-great-great grandson of King David.)

One morning, this girl was minding her own business when, suddenly, a great warrior of light appeared — right there, in her bedroom. He was Gabriel and he was an angel, a special messenger from heaven. 

When she saw the tall shining man standing there, Mary was frightened. 

“You don’t need to be scared,” Gabriel said. “God is very happy with you!”

Mary looked around to see if perhaps he was talking to someone else.

“Mary,” Gabriel said, and he laughed with such gladness that Mary’s eyes filled with sudden tears.

“Mary, you’re going to have a baby. A little boy. You will call him Jesus. He is God’s own Son. He’s the One! He’s the Rescuer!” 

The God who flung planets into space and kept them whirling around and around, the God who made the universe with just a word, the one who could do anything at all — was making himself small. And coming … as a baby.

Wait. God was sending a baby to rescue the world?

“But it’s too wonderful!” Mary said and felt her heart beating hard. “How can it be true?”

“Is anything too wonderful for God?” Gabriel asked.

So Mary trusted God more than what her eyes could see. And she believed. “I am God’s servant,’ she said.  “Whatever God says, I will do.”

Sure enough, it was just as the angel had said. Nine months later, Mary was almost ready to have her baby.

Now, Mary and Joseph had to take a trip to Bethlehem, the town King David was from. But when they reached the little town, they found every room was full. Every bed was taken. 

“Go away!” the innkeepers told them. “There isn’t any place for you.”

Where would they stay? Soon Mary’s baby would come. They couldn’t find anywhere except an old, tumbledown stable. So they stayed where the cows and the donkeys and the horses stayed.

And there, in the stable, amongst the chickens and the donkeys and the cows, in the quiet of the night, God gave the world his wonderful gift. The baby that would change the world was born. His baby Son.

Mary and Joseph wrapped him up to keep him warm. They made a soft bed of straw and used the animals’ feeding trough as his cradle. And they gazed in wonder at God’s Great Gift, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laying in a manger.

Mary and Joseph named him Jesus, “Emmanuel” — which means “God has come to live with us.”

Because, of course, he had.

The Light of the Whole World That same night, in amongst the other stars, suddenly a bright new star appeared. Of all the stars in the dark vaulted heavens, this one shone clearer. It blazed in the night and made the other stars look pale beside it.

God put it there when his baby Son was born — to be like a spotlight. Shining on him. Lighting up the darkness. Showing people the way to him. 

You see, God was like a new daddy — he couldn’t keep the good news to himself. He’d been waiting all these long years for this moment, and now he wanted to tell everyone.

So he pulled out all the stops. He’d sent an angel to tell Mary the good news. He’d put a special star in the sky to show where his boy was. And now he was going to send a big choir of angels to sing his happy song to the world: He’s here! He’s come! Go and see him. My little boy.

Now where would you send your splendid choir? To a big concert hall maybe? Or a palace perhaps? God sent his to a little hillside, outside a little town, in the middle of the night. He sent all those angels to sing for a raggedy old bunch of shepherds watching their sheep outside Bethlehem. 

In those days, remember, people used to laugh at shepherds and say they were smelly and call them other rude names (which I can’t possibly mention here). You see, people thought shepherds were nobodies, just scruffy old riff-raff.

But God must have thought shepherds were very important indeed, because they’re the ones he chose to tell the good news to first.

That night some shepherds were out in the open fields, warming themselves by a campfire, when suddenly the sheep darted. They were frightened by something. The olive trees rustled. What was that… the beating of wings?

They turned around. Standing in front of them was a huge warrior of light, blazing in the darkness. “Don’t be afraid of me!” the bright shining man said. “I haven’t come to hurt you. I’ve come to bring you happy news for everyone everywhere. Today, in David’s town, in Bethlehem, God’s Son has been born! You can go and see him. He is sleeping in a manger.”

Behind the angel they saw a strange glowing cloud — except it wasn’t a cloud, it was angels … troops and troops of angels, armed with light! And they were singing a beautiful song: “Glory to God! To God be Fame and Honor and all our hoorays!”

Then as quickly as they appeared, the angels left. 

The shepherds stamped out their fire, left their sheep, raced down the grassy hill, through the gates of Bethlehem, down the narrow cobble streets, through a courtyard, down some step, step, steps, past an inn, round a corner, through a hedge, until at last, they reached …

A tumbledown stable.

They caught their breath. Then quietly, they tiptoed inside. They knelt on the dirt floor. They had heard about this Promised Child and now he was here. Heaven’s Son. The Maker of the Stars. A baby sleeping in his mother’s arms. 

This baby would be like that bright star shining in the sky that night. A light to light up the whole world. Chasing away darkness. Helping people to see. And the darker the night got, the brighter the star would shine.

That was from The Jesus Storybook Bible.

Amazing story. Mindblowing concept. God who created the universe stepped into His creation. There are so many layers of meaning and purpose and things to think about. We’ll never get to the end of it—and we literally have all eternity to try.

Something I’ve learned in the last couple of years about those shepherds makes my head spin.

Bethlehem is pretty close to Jerusalem. Which is where the Temple was, where all the sacrifices took place. They needed a steady supply of perfect, spotless lambs for all these sacrifices. 

The shepherds that were keeping their flocks outside of Bethlehem weren’t just any old shepherds. These were Levitical Shepherds. Their job was to raise blemish-free spotless lambs for the Temple. They raised the sheep, protected them from predators and all that, but these were no ordinary sheep and shepherds. These shepherds were priests. These sheep were raised for the Passover. They had to be perfect and completely unharmed before being offered.

The angels showed up to tell THESE priests that Jesus was born. And this would be the sign: they would find a baby lying in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes.

These shepherds were going to be the first people in the world to get a glimpse of what Jesus actually came to earth to do. 

When a new baby lamb was born, these Levitical priest shepherds would take that perfect little lamb and wrap it in special cloth, to keep it clean and keep it from getting harmed. They had to keep these Passover lambs perfect. 

So when the angels told them they would find a human baby in a manger wrapped-up like a Passover lamb—they knew something theological was going on.

John 1:29 says Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

There’s more foreshadowing in the Christmas Story than I was ever aware of. Like I said, we have all eternity to think about the layers and implications of all these things.

God came to us. He didn’t wait for us to come to Him, or for us to make the first move. That’s how love works. We pursue the people we love. Remember that tomorrow when you’re around all the people you love. Go to them. Talk with them. Listen to them.

For those of us who have been reading through the entire Bible this year, this Christmas should have more layers of meaning than ever before—we should hear His name whispered everywhere.

And even though it can be really difficult on special days like Christmas, we need to be mindful of all the things that little baby grew up and taught us. All the things we’ve been talking about recently like controlling our tongue and anger and impatience. Self-control begins with gentleness and kindness. Jesus taught us to be faithful and good—to show restraint, especially in how we speak to each other. To make peace. Be thankful. This is the season of joy, but we’re called to be joyful in season and out. In other words, Jesus taught us to love one another. And love is joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. [Galatians 5:22-23]

When you’re opening your presents tomorrow morning—toys and clothes and tools and special meaningful gifts from people you love—all kinds of tangible, practical things. Try to remember that God, who loves you more than you can ever imagine, gave you what you needed more than anything else. All the implications of Christmas—what it means and what Jesus came to do. Promises of salvation, and that He’s going to return again to make everything new.

He stepped into your world and gave you Himself. Because of that spotless lamb, you are forgiven and made right with God—the author and Creator of the world and everything in it, including you and everyone you love. He came to rescue you from the darkness and all the madness of this world.

But tonight you have to accept it by faith. Just like those shepherds did. The night was still dark, it was still a scary place, but that little baby wrapped in swaddling clothes like a perfect little lamb, that little baby brought hope and light and the promise of peace.

I’m sorry I can’t be there with you tonight. I hope this service drums up all the childhood wonder and magic of Christmas for you. I hope when you sing the familiar carols in a few minutes that something brand new happens inside you. I hope the reality of Christmas gets inside you and doesn’t let go. I hope all your skepticism and doubt fade away for a moment and you get a glimpse, like those shepherds, of the true glory of Christ. Merry Christmas my friends.