Creekside Church Sermon of December 29, 2002 "What Becomes of Christmas After Christmas?" Galatians 4:4-7	Rev. David Bibbee
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What becomes of Christmas after Christmas? There is such anticipation leading up to Christmas day. But how quickly the mood that took a month to build up to dissipates like a fast leak in a tire. All that planning and partying and work, and before you know it, it's history recorded under Christmas 2002.

After the last piece of wrapping paper is picked up, the turkey carved and consumed, the wind-down begins. The Christmas tree doesn't look as good on Christmas night as it did on Christmas Eve. Though you have sent Aunt Minnie and Uncle Moe on the their way with lots of foil-wrapped remnants of Christmas dinner, you still will eat leftovers till New Year's Day. You're afraid to get on the bathroom scales. You're experiencing sugar withdrawal symptoms. A house down the street in our subdivision had a beautiful Christmas light display that was on all through December. By Christmas night they had turned if off. "Thanks a lot," I thought to myself. "You've helped me on my way to the post-Christmas letdown." Nothing is as over as Christmas.

But just because Christmas day has passed does not mean we stop celebrating. Why should we stop singing Christmas hymns once Christmas Day has passed? It makes more sense to sing the great hymns about God's incarnation "after" December 25 like Christians of the Orthodox tradition.

What was life in Bethlehem like the day after Jesus' birth? The shepherds had left, glorifying and praising God for all they had seen and heard. What happened when they got back to the hills to the same old flock? What was it like keeping watch over their flocks by night minus the music of the celestial choir and the beating of angel's wings?

On their way back to Nazareth, Mary and Joseph were trying to absorb all that had happened. Did they record everything that happened and store the memories in a secure place in case the duties of everyday, ordinary life clouded their recollections? Did they find themselves longing for the "good old day" back in Bethlehem? I see Mary at the kitchen sink washing baby bottles while Jesus is down for his afternoon nap. From the window, she has an unobstructed view into Joseph's shop where wood shaving fly as Joseph planes a plank of lumber. Their lives settled into a predictable pattern.

The night Jesus was born, history was forever altered. God was present in a way God had never been present before. Yet on the surface it didn't appear that much of anything had changed. Everything, it seemed, had settled back to normal. Isn't that what is supposed to happen? After the birthday party, after graduation, after the wedding, after the retirement recognition, after Christmas, and after the party's over, our lives settle into a routine.

When I was a student pastor in a suburban Chicago church, the children's department put on a Christmas pageant. I can still hear the grand finale song; "Three hundred and sixty-five days of Christmas each year." I remember thinking, "Who could stand Christmas every day of the year? If every day was Christmas, no day would be Christmas." What makes special days special is that they give us a break from the routine of ordinary life. Living out the joy of Christmas involves more than hanging onto a "Christmas high" after the 25th has come and gone.

After Christmas comes and goes, we do not shrug our shoulders and trade glad tiding for sad facts. We don't wring our hands and ask, "Now what?" In Bethlehem God's promise to be with us, teach us, save us, and guide us was fulfilled in the first cry of a baby. In Galatians 4: 4 Paul says, "But when the time had fully come, God sent forth his son, born of a woman…"

We are people who do not know how to wait; not over the long haul. People who are accustomed to drive-through fast food and overnight mail have a hard time appreciating how long Israel had waited for God to fulfill his promise of coming to deliver them by dwelling with them.

We know so little about waiting and are so reserved when it comes to rejoicing. It is hard for us to know the joy that flooded the hearts of those who at long last knew the "fullness" of time had come and who saw God's flesh and blood incarnation.

A devout old man named Simeon longed for the consolation of Israel. The Holy Spirit told Simeon he would not die without having seen the fulfillment of God's promise. The clock was ticking. When Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the Temple, Simeon held the baby in his arms and said, "Lord, now let your servant depart in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation."

Old Anna was a prophetess who spent day and night in the Temple worshipping, fasting, and praying that God would answer the plight of her people. And when Anna laid eyes upon the baby, she sang an exuberant song of praise for what God had done.

In the fullness of time, God sent his son. Now, just four days after Jesus' birthday, I don't see anyone rejoicing on cloud nine. You should have seen yourselves Tuesday night at the Christmas Eve Service. The look on your faces. I didn't detect an aura or anything like that, but I know what longing looks like. I know joy when I see it. You can tell when someone has been yanked out of their little circle of self and swept into praising God just for the sake of praising God. I saw smiles and a few tears illumined by the dancing light of the little candles you held as you sang "Silent Night". I suppose nostalgia and sentimentality could account for some of this, but it was also a sign of rejoicing because of our faith in Jesus' perpetual presence.

It has only been four days since I saw you. What happened? You look like you do every Sunday. I don't want to make too much of your looks. Faces don't tell the whole story, but do you have joy in you? Did your rejoicing stop after the Christmas afternoon nap? Paul told us, "Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice." He did not mean we should merely repeat the word, or maintain a mood. The Christmas question is, "Are we possessed by the presence of Christ with us? Is his promise never to abandon us to our own defenses more real than our fears over the future?"

Jesus is present in each ordinary moment, making it possible to rejoice even though we may not be in a rejoicing mood. I keep returning to something Frederick Buechner said, "If I were called upon to state in a few words the essence of everything I was trying to say as a novelist and a preacher, it would be something like this;

'Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness; touch, taste, smell your way into the holy hidden heart of it because in the last analysis, all moments are key moments and life itself is grace.'"

Someone asked how I spent Christmas day. In case you are interested, I stayed in bed till 9:00 a.m. because I was up late watching ,"A Christmas Story." I fixed waffles and bacon for the family breakfast. I fed the dog and gave her Christmas greetings. My wife told me to hurry up and shower before we opened gifts. I obeyed. We had fun opening presents and getting our dog Libbee to pose for a family portrait. We ate Christmas dinner at the China Star, a meal personally tailored for our family by master chef Jean Chen. We went to the hospital to visit Karen Eis. Returning home I played with Libbee, then napped in my recliner until 6:00 p.m. I ate two creamed chicken sandwiches, and drank a tall glass of eggnog. Later that evening I went with Twig and two surgery colleagues to visit at the home of Chris and Donna Losch. Chris is an anesthesiologist who works with the heart team.

The Losch family was dealt a traumatic blow on Monday. Their troubled twenty-one year old son murdered his brother's wife. What profound, sorrow Chris and Donna bear, grieving for their eldest son's loss, grieving the death of a daughter-in-law they dearly loved, grieving for her parent's great loss, and grieving over the action of their youngest son they love who will likely spend most of the rest of his life behind bars. Words are so inadequate before such great pain.

Chris and Donna are wonderful people. They are Christians. They understand that reliance upon God is the only thing that will see them through this dark time. Chris said to us, "There is no other way to explain this except to say that it's the product of evil. We're going to have to decide which is greater-the power of evil or God's love." The Loschs will bet everything they have and are on whether there is a God whose love in Jesus hallows and restores life, or not. It is clear where they will place their bets.

One of the visitors said, "You didn't have a Christmas. You had it taken away and we have come to bring some of it back." I understand what she was saying. It is true that those who came to comfort were embodying the meaning of Christmas. But Christmas wasn't taken from them. "When the time had fully come, God sent forth his son…" Jesus wasn't just given on loan for one day, but all days, in all circumstances, in times when he feels so close and in times when there seems no trace of him anywhere.

At the end of the day, laying in bed waiting for sleep to come, I thought about all that had transpired, and I realized in a way I haven't for a while that every moment is indeed a key moment.

What becomes of Christmas after Christmas? Christmas goes on as long as time goes on, and our rejoicing will have no end.

I will leave you now with words I unfortunately cannot claim as my own. Barbara Brown Taylor says, "Like Mary, our choice boils down to yes or no…you can say yes and decide to be a daredevil or a gambler. You can set your book down and listen to a strange angel's strange idea. You can decide to take part in a plan you did not choose, doing things you do not know how to do for reasons you do not entirely understand. You can take part in a thrilling and dangerous scheme with no script and no guarantees. You can agree to smuggle God into the world inside your own body.

Deciding to say yes does not mean you are not afraid, by the way. It just means you are not willing to let your fear stop you… So say yes to the angel. You say, 'Here I am; let it be to me according to your word.'"

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