John 1; Luke 2
December 25, 2019
Christmas Day
Dear Saints of Our Savior~
A very blessed Christmas Day to one and all. I think most of you would agree that, when it comes to music, no season can compete with Christmas. At what other time of the year is music so important—so meaningful and moving? I think my Christmas playlist on Spotify has over eighty songs now. I add a few more every year; and I never grow tired of listening to them.
Do you know what is the oldest song of this season—the very first Christmas carol? It’s from back before Bach. It was first sung long before Luther. It’s even older than old Saint Nicholas himself. Here’s a clue: It was sung for the very first time by angels.
But God’s greatest glory—the glory of this holy day—has nothing to do with the highest. This day is all about the lowest. The movement—the action—the trajectory of the Nativity—it’s all downward and descending. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us (down here on earth). The eternal Son of God by whom all things were made—for us men and for our salvation He came down from heaven and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary and was made man. A steeper, more precipitous dive has never happened before or since. The God of heaven has burst and broken the bounds of eternity. The Son of God has left His heavenly throne and has taken the plunge to take His place as your Brother and your Savior. With Jesus, all that is good goes down. Glory to God . . . in the lowest.
Ever since our first parents fell into sin, this world has been marked by a marked decline. God’s perfect planet plummeted into chaos. And human beings—the crown of God’s good creation—have alternatively assaulted God as rebels, or fled from Him in guilt and fear. Sin has ruined everything. And we sinners truly excel at sinking to new lows, finding ever deeper and darker ways to express our depravities, idolatries and adulteries. Our usual strategy is to take down the competition so that we can be gods in the place of God. But for all of our selfish climbing and clawing to the top of the heap—there is waiting for each of us a final resting place about six feet beneath the surface. The wages of sin is death. We’ve made our own beds and dug our own graves; and one day we will lay down for the final time.
But on this Christmas Day I say: Glory to God in the lowest. For today we celebrate the one thing that outrushes, outruns, excels and exceeds the fall of man—and that is . . . the height of the fall of God.
Just how low can He go? Lower than you, that’s for sure! From His royal throne He descended to dwell as a holy embryo in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He spent His Nativity far from home. He was basically delivered in a barn. He slept in a feeding trough for livestock. Infant holy, infant lowly. And about the only people who took note of His birth were a rather rough handful of men from the lowest rung of society’s ladder who smelled strangely of sheep.
Just how low can Jesus go? See Him stepping down into the deep waters of the Jordan River to undergo a sinners’ baptism—to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, in solidarity with sinners. See Him bending down low to bless the little children, to reach out and touch the sick and the unclean, and to wash the stinking feet of His disciples.
But Jesus would go lower still. See Him bear our basest deeds, our deepest secrets, our worst and lowest sins of thought and word and deed. He came to His own, and His own people did not receive Him. His crown of thorns, His throne a cross—His subjects saw fit to spit and mock. Nails, spear, shall pierce Him through, the cross be borne for me, for you. Glory to God in the lowest.
But His downward trajectory has achieved eternal victory for every sinner, and forgiveness for every sin. He goes down low to raise you up. He sank down into this sinful world to lift you into a new life of faith. Christ is born of Mary to bear our sins and be our Savior. And this deep dive is what secures peace on earth, goodwill to men—as that very first Christmas carol of the angels expresses it. But even as you lift up your hearts with thanks and praise for this gift, don’t forget just how low Jesus had to go to achieve it. Glory to God in the lowest!
But the Christ of Christmas still comes down among us. He still humbles Himself to serve you, and lowers Himself to love you. How low can He go? You won’t find Him in swaddling clothes, but you will find Him mangered in the lowly bread and wine of the Holy Supper. You will hear His voice in the lowly words of your preacher and in the simple sentences of Holy Scripture. And in your baptism you were lowered into the water where you were united with the Christ. And now, nothing can separate you from His love—a love that lasts forever—a love that lifts you up on wings like eagles. Glory to God in the lowest!
As you head off this morning to celebrate, surrounded by the glorious sounds of this season, remember: God’s lowest always brings out your best. Who can exalt himself in pride when our Savior goes so low? Who dares to claw and climb their way to the top of the heap when, at the bottom of the heap—at the lowest level—beneath us all—is the Son of God—who was crucified for our offenses and raised for our justification? Who can raise up a fist in anger when God’s love comes rushing down into our lives? Who can hurl up hurt and harm—who can launch lies and curses—who can fire off volleys of violence—when all that is good goes down—when all that is good descends from heaven to earth—to you, to me?
The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we—we have seen His glory, not by looking up, but by looking down. Glory to God in the lowest.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
[Based upon the poem, “Gloria in Profundis,” by G. K. Chesterton]
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