His Coming

The true light, who gives light to everyone, [has come] into the world. . . The Word of God became human flesh and took up residence in our midst. We observed His glory, the glory as the One and Only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.   

John 1:9 & 14

This morning wasn’t the first time we’ve invited Sherry and her girls to church with us. She has seemed nervous yet eager to join us. Always, at the last minute, she has wriggled out, fretting about her children’s shoes not being nice enough (she says) -- more likely fretting about being out of place, different, not-good-enough (she probably feels).

It’s hard to enter a new place, an unfamiliar context. You feel exposed. Uncertain. On guard. Even in a church where many will welcome you. Where the grace of God for needy people is preached. Where we sing to celebrate God’s goodness and mercy to us in Christ.

At Christmastime, more than ever, we are praying that she will come. Because we know that Jesus has already come. For her.

He has come to us, so that we may come to Him.    

God has held out His flesh-and-bones hand through Jesus, that we might place our hand in His.

. . .

We smile at the mental image of shepherds lifting tattered robes from ankles, coming quickly to the barn, wide-eyed, after a skyfull of angelic beings rocked their world.

We marvel that learned men travelled for months, maybe years, in search of the King that they discovered in the stars.

We love hearing people tell their stories of coming to Christ in faith.

But first, He came to us: an unassuming invitation wrapped in Jewish flesh, a glimpse of God that made Him real to us. The distance He travelled boggles the mind, making Dr Who’s adventures in the TARDIS look like a brief stroll in an itty-bitty park. Across the universe that Christ Himself created, all the way into the womb of a young girl in Galilee, He took his first human breath in a stable, beneath the night sky that He had formed.

From the beginning, His plan, with the Father and the Spirit, was to come to us, for us. To meet us in a way that would make sense to us. To speak our language and paint word pictures that we could understand. To touch us, and be touched by us. To live in “our” world for a brief while, to share our earthly everyday experiences. To be fully human, even as He has always been and always will be God.

This is how far He has come.

This is how close He has come.

To you. For you.

. . .

If Christmastime is a bittersweet time for you, shadowed in sadness or grief or regret, I bring you good news of great joy:

Jesus, “God with us,” has come! He has come to you and for you. He is as near to you as your breath, your next thought, your hand reaching for His open, outstretched hand.

Arise, shine, for your light has come,
    and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.…
And nations shall come to your light,
    and kings to the brightness of your rising.   

Isaiah 60:1 & 3