Claire Clyburn
Calvary Memorial UMC
Snow Hill NC USA
mcc@COASTALNET.COM

Christmas Eve Sermon

A group of professionals posed this question to a group of
four-through-eight year olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got
were broader and deeper than anyone might have imagined. See what you
think.

Love is that first feeling you have before all the bad stuff gets in the
way.

When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her
toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when
his hands got arthritis too. That's love.

Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French Fries
without making them give you any of theirs.

Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.

Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all
day.

When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come
out of you.

Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends
even after they know each other so well.

When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know
your name is safe in their mouth.

When you tell someone something bad about yourself and you're not scared
they won't love you anymore. But then you get surprised because not only do
they still love you, they love you even more.
Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening
presents and listen.

Hear the good news this Christmas eve: Love is in this room with us.
It is the message, meaning, and purpose of the incarnation. God is pleased
to dwell with us as one of us because God loves us. God comes to us as one
of us - a baby, helpless, vulnerable, dependent, at the mercy of others.

I probably go to the hospital more than most well people except for
hospital staff. I go whenever I know of a need of one of our parishoners.
I go to visit, to sit in waiting rooms, to pray, to hold someone's hand. I
go whether or not the person knows I am there. On one visit not too long
ago I was walking in from the nether regions of the parking lot at Pitt
Memorial Hospital when I came upon a man who looked to be in his early 30's.
He was walking briskly, in office attire, his eyes toward the ground. I
could see he was as bald as a bowling ball. I figured he was on his way to
the Leo Jenkins Cancer Center for a treatment. I thought for a moment about
his condition, so young, dealing with this disease, interrupting his day of
work to come and receive medicines that would either kill him or make him
well. I said a prayer for all those I know who are living with cancer right
now. I passed him in the hallway on my way to visit my parishoner and
managed to smile at him as he rounded the corner, his head up for the first
time.

When I came back to the front desk I was surprised to see the man
again. I knew it was he of course by his head. But this time he was
looking straight ahead, a big smile on his face, and his steps were lighter.
He was not alone, either. High on his shoulder was his son, four years old,
wearing a Winnie the Pooh bathrobe. And then I saw that it was the child
who had cancer, who had lost his hair, who was going home today. I realized
instatnly that this young executive, the boy's father, had shaved his head
not because he had cancer but out of love for his son. They were all smiles
as they left the hospital that day, and I learned something about
incarnational love.

What looked to me, to the world, a sign of weakness, even of
powerlessness, this father's bald condition, was in fact a sign of the deep
love he had for his child in his illness. Determined that his child would
not go through the side effects of cancer treatment alone, the father
willingly abandoned pride, and became like his small child. Misunderstood?
Yes. Vulnerable? Yes. Powerless? No. Weak? No. Incarnational love?
Yes. Incarnational love is God, the one in power, willingly entering the
human condition of suffering in order to love us completely.

For many people, Christmas is a time when our woundedness, our
vulnerability, our helplessness, our loneliness, is felt most strongly.
Because there is so much emphasis placed on having a Hallmark experience,
where all the napkin rings match, the food is delicious, and the presents
just what a child who already has more than enough wants, because the
expectation levels are so high and parents fear disappointing their
children, our stress levels are at their greatest. We can easily forget the
meaning of Christmas. So I remind you again that it is at the precise
places of our own pain, helplessness, vulnerability, and weakness, that God
desires to enter in and become as we are so that every part of our human
experience can experience redemption, salvation.

In a few moments we will celebrate the holy meal. We will remember that
when Jesus died for us, it was so that having entered our human condition so
completely, he suffered, died, and was raised from the dead, so that we
might have new life. This holy meal reminds us that there is no part of our
humanness that God has not redeemed, made holy, made whole, with
incarnational love. This holy meal is also the sign of God's presence with
us - here and now, and also each moment of every day, dwelling with us and
in us, Emmaneul, because he loves us. As you come this evening to partake of
this holy meal, I invite you to stop and listen to the love in this place,
love for you and for all humanity - even, perhaps especially, for those who
do not know themselves to be loved by God or anyone.

Christmas is the celebration of the incarnation - God becoming human,
taking on flesh. Its meaning, its purpose, is love. Since we celebrate
Jesus' birth as a human being, his growth in childhood, his life within a
family, it seems appropriate to close, as I opened this evening, with words
from a child on the meaning of love: "you really shouldn't say I love you
unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People
forget."

Come to the table. As you hear your name called, I invite you to know
that your name is safe in God's mouth, that God loves you, and that he
desires to say it with this holy meal, just in case you forget. Merry
Christmas - truly love has come down to us this night.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.