TerryLema

Friday morning I was wide awake at 3 AM. I usually get up around 4:30 AM. I just could not sleep any longer, so I hopped out of bed. Well, stumbled is more like it. I made coffee, grabbed my blanket and computer and headed to the couch until it was time to start getting ready for work.  I have had so much on my mind about the things I need to do before year’s end that even making a list (and checking it twice) wasn’t helping much.

And I could not stop thinking about the wonder of that first Christmas. What it must have been like in the dark night before the shepherds arrived with the news of the angel’s message.

What was it like for Joseph? He must have felt a bit helpless, perhaps even like a failure. He’d brought Mary on a long trip during her last trimester of pregnancy, when she was the most uncomfortable. They’d ended up in the lowliest of places. He must have been humiliated. Perhaps he was also a bit angry that those who had more sheltered areas in the “inn” would not relinquish them even to a young girl in labor with her firstborn.

What was it like for Mary?  I imagine she was scared. I know I was scared with my firstborn and I had a lot of help around. Had she seen other women in her family give birth? Did she know what to expect? She knew this was God’s child – if anyone knew that, she did. Did that same faith that she had when the angel first appeared to her to announce that she would be the Messiah’s mother rise again as she faced the travail of labor?

Whatever it was like for them, before that dark night was over Jesus was born. Mary would have been like all mothers, counting his little fingers and toes, kissing his cheek, placing him at her breast. God’s Son had arrived on earth and for the next 33 years he would share in the limitations of mortal flesh.

John 1:9:  The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.  [NIV]

Wonder of wonders!

I’ve had so much to do this week. I’ve shopped for our Christmas families. I had a board meeting. I’ve bought things needed for the Christmas Party tonight at church, prepped a turkey. I was out every night except Wednesday when I stayed in and worked on my message for tomorrow – “Wonder of Wonders!”

I began the week tired from last weekend. The first part of the week I was still tired and a kind of mumbling, murmuring grumpiness set in.  Then Wednesday evening as I prepped for the message, something different happened in my spirit. Instead of thinking about all the things I had to do, I began to be captured by the “true wonder” of Christmas.

It wasn’t the heavenly choir or the brilliant light or the worshipping shepherds, nor was it the star or the caravan of Magi from the east that brought the wonder. It was a carpenter, his teenage bride, a dirty place for animals and the birthing of a helpless baby in its midst. The Prince of Peace, the Glorious Son of God, born to the poorest of the poor.

That is how Christianity began. There were no grand cathedrals, no rich robes, no golden bells or incense. There was dirty, fetid straw, swaddling cloths that Mary would have brought with her. There was the bleating of animals and the stench of urine and feces.

Jesus came to the poor and the powerless. He still comes to the poor and the powerless.  “Blessed are those who are poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” he said to the crowd. [Matt 5:3]

There could not have been two more poor in spirit than His adopted father and birth mother, Joseph and Mary. There could not be anyone more poor in spirit than He, Himself, who gave up everything to take on our infirmities and limitations.

“Wonder of wonders.”

Preparing for Sunday’s message has me thinking about the wonder of Christ’s birth.  Merriam-Webster defines wonder as the quality of exciting amazed admiration. We’ve heard the Christmas story so many times, perhaps we’ve lost a bit of that exciting amazed admiration.

Joseph and Mary had to travel 80 miles to Bethlehem. God orchestrated through a heathen kingdom (Rome) their arrival to that insignificant village where 700 years earlier Micah had prophesied the Messiah would be born (Micah 5:2)

It would have been a miserable journey with Mary full term. It ended up in a place that was more than likely filthy and smelly. Inns in those days were mainly just a series of partially enclosed stalls that opened into a shared area where the animals were kept.  When Luke said there was no room for them in the inn, he means there was no room for them in those stalls.  They probably ended up in the yard where travelers secured their animals.

Mary had traveled all this way, far from her family, far from the female support system she would have had at home. She was likely around 14 years old. She was alone, except for Joseph. She had no birthing coach, no meds, no clean sheets, no soft music playing, no attendants – just Joseph.  His hands would have been calloused and rough from his work. He was good at working wood, probably not so good at midwifing.

And into this miserable, wretched, dishonorable scene, the Son of God was born. “She gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.”  [Luke 2:7]

If that doesn’t take our breath away in exciting amazed admiration, I’m not sure anything will. The King became a pauper. God became a babe, completely dependent upon a young teenager for sustenance and a rough carpenter for protection. Wonder of wonders! 

I heard a song for the first time the other morning. The song is titled, “It Wasn’t His Child.” It was about Joseph, the oft forgotten member of most manger scenes. We talk a lot of Mary and, of course, the Christ Child. We speak of shepherds and angels and stars and Magi. We don’t talk about Joseph. He is the silent one. While none of his words are recorded, his character and obedience are.

Matthew Chapters 1 and 2 tell us most about Joseph. He was a righteous man. He was also a kind man as evidenced by the fact that when he found out Mary was pregnant he did not want to publicly shame her. We see his obedience when the angels appear to him in dreams three times and tell him what to do. He immediately gets up and does it. He takes Mary as his wife. He takes his family to safety in Egypt. He returns to Nazareth when it is safe. (Read Matt 1 & 2 today)

We know he took Mary and Jesus to do the things prescribed by law when Jesus was dedicated. We know he anxiously searched for Jesus when as a 12-year-old He disappeared on their trip to Jerusalem. He was a father who cared.

What we assume from the culture of the day is that Joseph would have taught his son his own trade, carpentry. He would have taken him to synagogue and educated him in the things of God. All this, knowing that Jesus was not his child.

As I listened to the song, I thought, isn’t it amazing that Jesus, God’s Son, was adopted and raised by Joseph as a child here on earth and that now we are adopted by Father God as His children through Jesus His Son.

Here is the link to “It Wasn’t His Son” sung by Tim McGraw.

https://video.search.yahoo.com/search/video?fr=tightropetb&p=but+it+wasn%27t+his+child#id=3&vid=c7197b4d5c7a7e77b4353789af6895c6&action=view

I always get to church early on Sunday. I turn on the lights, set up coffee and the sound/projection equipment. I usually turn on some pre-service music and then I walk around and pray for about an hour until the worship team arrives to go over that morning’s music. Once December arrived, I started listening to Christmas music.

One of the songs on the CDs was Josh Groban singing “The Little Drummer Boy.” I’m singing along and suddenly I’m chuckling thinking that the last thing an exhausted new mother needs is somebody playing a drum for her new baby!

“pa rum pum pum pum.” That phrase is repeat 21 times in that song and after a while it becomes almost like a heartbeat.  It is so prevalent, we can miss the actual words of the song.

“Our finest gifts we bring to lay before the King…I have no gift to bring that’s fit to give the King….I played my drum for Him…I played my best for Him.”

Ah, like that little drummer boy, we, too, have no worthy gifts to give the King of Kings. In fact, He is the giver of all worthiness and good.  All we can bring is our own heartbeats, our lives. We can only take what we are, our drums, our humble talents, and play the very best we can to honor Him.

Father, how true it is that I have nothing worthy to offer.  So I offer the only thing I have, my life. I determine to do the very best I can and bring honor to Your Son who gave it all for me. Amen.

I spoke to someone recently about our faith, wills, obedience and where emotions fit in.  We live in a culture that is emotion-driven.  We live emotion-driven lives.  Too often we practice emotion-driven faith. If we are emotion-driven in life we will never find stability or experience that unmovable faith that cries out, “I know my Redeemer lives!” no matter what trial or circumstance we experience.

Still, an emotion-less life is not good either and emotion-less faith can become cold, uncaring, legalistic. Yesterday I reminded us of the fact that Jesus “was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.” The first part of that verse, however, speaks of the sympathy of Jesus, our High Priest.  “For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses….” [Heb 4:15 NKJV]

If we read the Gospel of Mark we see Jesus, our High Priest, described as having all kinds of emotions; he was angered, filled with compassion, and deeply distressed to name just a few.

So, is it emotion-driven or emotion-less?  Neither. It’s realizing that we have redeemed-emotions. When Christ redeemed us, He did it completely, spirit, soul (mind-will-emotions) and yes, eventually a redeemed body.  When our emotions are redeemed they fall into the correct place in our lives. They no longer drive us, nor remain hidden.  They follow.

Faith by grace fills our spirits. Our minds are made new through the work of the Holy Spirit and the Word of God which allows us to know His good and perfect will. Our wills cooperate with the Spirit and become obedient (sanctified) to God’s will. And our redeemed-emotions flow with praise, worship, delight, joy beyond expression. Redeemed-emotions come alive with God’s compassion.

Thank you, Lord, for redeeming the whole of us – spirit, soul (mind-will-even emotions) and body! 

“As we think of the babe in the manger this Christmas season, we must always do so in sight of the cross.”  I wrote that yesterday, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.  The manger and the cross are linked by one sinless life lived by the Son of God amid all the temptations and assaults of the enemy. The Scripture is clear that Jesus “was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.” [Heb 4:15 NKJV]

The Scripture is also clear that the plan of salvation was determined before the world was ever formed … before Adam had ever sinned.  [1 Peter 1:20]

Philippians 2:5-11 gives not only the sequence of events, but all the things that are an integral part of what we speak of as “the cross.” The cross of Christ began with the plan between God and the Son before time. Then in the fullness of time – the perfect time – God’s Son came to earth through the womb of a virgin. He lived that absolutely sinless life among us.

“The cross” includes the agony in Gethsemane, when Jesus said He was sorrowed to the point of death and yet set His will through obedience. It included the crown of thorns, the beatings, the stripes upon His back, the nails, the crucifixion, being forsaken by God, and His death. It included the tomb and Glory to God, it included the Resurrection!

“The Cross” included His ascension into heaven where He now sits at the right hand of the Father making intercession to all who come to Him through “The Cross.” And it will all culminate when every knee will bow (in heaven, on earth, and under the earth) and “every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord to the glory of God the Father!”

So when we speak of the cross, we need to remember the total picture, and not just those few hours on a Friday so many centuries ago. We are still in the midst of the work of “The Cross.” Praise His Glorious Name.

I have a hymnal called “Hymns of Glorious Praise.”  The Table of Contents for that hymnal tells me it is laid out by theme.  The first section is worship.  “O, Worship the King” all glorious above, and gratefully sing His Power and His love. (Franz Joseph Hayden, 1732-1809)

Right after the worship section in this hymnal come the songs of the Incarnation, songs of Christmas.   Yet too soon, following the Christmas songs come songs of the cross.

It was for the cross that Christ came.  It was for the cross that He abandoned all the rights and privileges of His divine nature and came to earth as a babe.  It was for the cross that He took upon Himself the sins of this world and surrendered Himself to death, even a death on a cross.  [Philippians 2]

And the cross was for us.  To fully appreciate the babe born in the manager, we must always do so in sight of the cross.  If Jesus was only a great teacher, a good man, or a prophet, celebrating his birth would not be much different than celebrating the birth of other good teachers and good men.

But Jesus was not just a great teacher, a good man, and a prophet. He was and is and always will be God the Son, and He came to Bethlehem that wondrous night for a single purpose, to reconcile man and God.  That reconciliation meant the giving of his very life’s blood on a heathen cross, the one true spotless sacrifice offered for the sins of men.

Both the star over the stable and the cross on the hill cast shadows that stretch through all eternity to remind us of what our salvation cost our God.

“Hark the herald angels sing, ‘Glory to the newborn King!

Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.’

Joyful all ye nations rise.  Join the triumph of the skies.

With the angelic host proclaim, ‘Christ is born in Bethlehem!’

Hark, the herald angels sing, ‘Glory to the newborn king!’”

The night was dark.  The flocks were bedded down.  The shepherds gathered around the small fire and talked softly.  They were tired from the long, hard work of the day, yet they remained vigilant at night.  It was in the dark of the night that predators prowled.  The shepherds were always on duty, ever watchful, ever alert for even the softest sound of danger.

Suddenly, the sky was on fire with a brilliant light and an unearthly being appeared before them.  Light shown all around them.  They were used to danger, but this strange sight frightened them.  Then a voice boomed across the sky bringing comfort.  “Do not be afraid.  I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.  Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.  This will be a sign to you:  You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manager.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel and began praising God.  “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.”  [Luke2:8-20]

The most glorious announcement of all time came first not to kings or the prominent but to shepherds alone in the night keeping watch over their flocks.  And this king, born that night in Bethlehem and attested to by heavenly hosts would one day call Himself a Shepherd, “I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd gives his life for the sheep.”  And in the giving of that life, God and sinners would be reconciled. There need be no more war between men and God, no more great gulf created by sin and death.  The Everlasting Peace was born that night in Bethlehem.

“Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled . . . Hark, the herald angels sing, ‘Glory to the newborn king!’”

I turn 71 years old today, whether I want to or not, whether I like it or not! We can fight the aging process, but in the end, it’s going to win.  I remember reading a sign once that asked the question: How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?

That sign annoyed me when I first saw it, it still annoys me.  I know how old I am.  My body reminds me every day.  All I must do is pass a mirror or catch a glimpse of my reflection in a window.  I am reminded also when I climb out of bed with most of the same aches and pains I went to bed with – or sometimes even with new ones like my recently arrived stiff neck.  Sometimes I feel ancient.

But other times I feel like a child.  Christmas, hearing the carols, seeing the nativity scenes, watching the snow fall.  I know this is going to sound strange, but when we sing the song “Days of Elijah” I want to jump just like the Marines do in that video.  Of course, I don’t jump anymore, my knees have forgotten how … but I still want to!

I also know that deep inside me, in the part of me that really counts, I am now and will eternally be a child of God.  The calendar that counts the years cannot change that. The body that refuses to jump when told cannot change it either!

1 John 3:1:  How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! [NIV]

*Here’s the link to the Marine’s singing Days of Elijah – wait for the jump part [There’s no God like Jehovah] and see if you don’t also want to join them:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0MtdyRDy4fU