Christmas.
It’s
upon us once again and has been so for quite some time. Normally the very fact the commercialism of
Christmas takes over about the same time pencils are being sharpened fresh for
back-to-school, embitters me. By the
time Christmas rolls around – I’m ready to be done.
But,
this Christmas season? It’s felt
different this year. I’ve found myself
relatively into Christmas...but not in all of the normal or necessarily
identifiable ways. I’m not feeling
compelled to make dozens of cookies or decorate a handful of trees or string
garland from one end of the world to the other...but Christmas definitely comes
with it’s own excitement and appreciation and expectation this year. Christmas can be hard...and I have had a lot
of life happen around Christmas time (for one example: my cancer diagnosis came
the day after Christmas) and Christmas just wasn’t the same anymore. Things little and big year after year and
then it just didn’t come with the same sparkle or pizzazz… But, this Christmas
season? This year there is something
internal...
In
such a way that the whole of the Christmas story, when I pause to truly
consider it, makes me a little weak in the knees. Not figuratively either. I’m truly blown away by the reality of a God
who, as Paul tells us in Romans 5, sent a son while we were yet sinners. The reality and immensity of God with us –
Emmanuel.
Emmanuel
is one of my favorite names and resulting concepts of the nature of God. The fact that between Malachi, the last book
of the old testament, and Matthew, the first book of the new testament – there
are 400 years. 400 years where God was
silent. Where there was no record of
prophet or priest with a voice from heaven, no word from God. 400 years and the silence is broken by
Emmanuel. Silence is broken by not just
a word from God but the Word which, John tells us in chapter 1, WAS God… And God took on the form of a baby – the most
beautiful and most powerless thing in the entire world – born in the lowliest
of places though one day his name would be exalted above all names that at it
every knee would bow and tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. If that doesn’t give you chills…
There
is the somewhat cliché phrase “you can’t have Christmas without Easter and you
can’t have Easter without Christmas”.
The two, in my head, should always be celebrated together. You’ve probably seen the picture of the
manager in the shadow of the cross. And
I think of the fact that light came into the darkness but darkness couldn’t understand
it. Part of me pictures Jesus, in a manager,
covered in the ring of shekinah glory, with blackness surrounding. But if I
were to put a magnifying glass to the blackness, I would see the principalities
of darkness, held at bay, unable to touch the one who would one day willing
place all of the sin and shame and weight of that darkness on his back and drag
it down to Hell in order that we would have opportunity at restored
relationship… I tremble a little when I
truly stop to consider the reality of it…
And
then one word comes to mind. It
shouldn’t be surprising that it is the word my brain chooses…it’s been one of
recurring pattern and them in my brain for the last six months or so. It gets
screamed at me in songs on the radio and in the smallest snippets of
sermons. But it did surprise me a little
because it’s not a typical word associated with Christmas, necessarily.
Peace.
Joy.
Glory.
Hope.
Love.
Those
are Christmas words. This was a good word, but not necessarily a Christmas
one... But it struck me as the perfect word and perfect Christmas word,
especially after listening to my current favorite “Christmas song” – a song
which, though quite familiar in origin, had been covered to tell the whole of
the Christmas story in a very profound way. (It was the only “Christmas song” I
would listen to before Thanksgiving and it is the only song I would willingly
play on repeat.) I encourage you to click
on the youTube link and check out Cloverton’s “A Hallelujah Christmas” if you
haven’t already. If you do, really
listen to the Christmas story being told through the lyrics of the song and
really listen to challenge it gives to offer up a Hallelujah…
You see,
the song walks through the familiar Christmas story. The story of a baby boy, who
was God, who came to earth – the very acknowledgment alone calling to sing out “Hallelujah”
with every breath. A couple went to Bethlehem
Hallelujah...
After
about the 20th time of looping the song, I looked up the word
“hallelujah” because I realized it was a word I knew the meaning of – kind of –
because it always came with its own context – but I wanted to know to
understand. And I learned,
unsurprisingly, that it is a Hebrew word, originally “allelujah”, literally
translating “praise ye the Lord!” (which makes that call and response song make
SO much more sense!). It is a shout, a proclamation, and an exclamation of joy,
praise, gratitude and exaltation – meaning to lift one to the highest
level.
What
struck me must about “Hallelujah” in the context of the song was the way it was
presented as an offering. And furthermore
an offering which HAD to be given. Not “had”
as in when your mom forced you to share with your brother, but the necessity to
cry it out as if it were impossible to keep in.
What does it mean to live and to leave that kind of Hallelujah as an
offering?
Furthermore,
it brought into fore light an otherwise neglected piece of the Christmas story –
neglected at least in my mind. The profound
realization of the dichotomy that both prince and pauper came to lay their “hallelujahs”
before the Lord:
Shepherds,
being the lowliest of the low, not well liked, not always well trusted with
nothing to give but themselves, left glorifying and praising God and offering
up a hallelujah to any who would listen.
Yet,
on the same token, were the kings.
People of status and power and wealth (things we can glean without being
told because, lets face it, if you’re capable of taking two plus years off work
to travel through the desert to hunt down a baby boy and leave physically
valuable and impressive gifts…there’s a good chance you’re a “somebody” in the
world). But they too came. When I consider or think about the magi, I
think of their gifts. What I often
forget is that before they gave any of their physical gifts to Jesus, they
bowed down to worship Him. Their
physical gifts were in addition to the gift of their hallelujah. The stocking
stuffers to the gift they came to give.
Though scholars will tell us these gifts had specific significance to
the life and ministry of Jesus...they were secondary to a bowed knee and a gift
of praise.
No
one was above or beneath being welcomed to encounter Christ, and all who
encountered left with a hallelujah. A
hallelujah which was also offered by Christ himself. He, who humbled himself to
the point of death on the cross for the glory of God, was exalted to the right
hand of the Father (Philippians 2), but His hallelujah came first – and was
evident through his life.
So where does that leave us? If we have encountered Christ, have we left
an offering of hallelujah? Does every breath strive to cry it out? Do we come full and rich and whole as the magi? Do we come broken and ostracized as the
shepherd? Does either, regardless, come
with the response of hallelujah?
I’ve been struck for the last six months especially and
again with the idea of a broken hallelujah and how beautiful a hallelujah is
when it comes out of brokenness. Whether
it be brokenness like David whose psalms of woes due to the depth of his sin
are followed by psalms of praise as he recognizes God’s mercy and grace…or
brokenness like Ruth who lost everything outside of her desire and control and
still sought the face of God… (“Broken Hallelujah” may in fact be a blog for
another time for it has occurred to me that every biblical figure we give
merit, endured brokenness and still came to a place of hallelujah. None were praising from a place of physical
wholeness – but of spiritual completion.)
Hallelujahs which are louder and brighter for they come in the middle of
life that doesn’t make sense.
Christmas
is upon us once again. But, this Christmas
season? It’s felt different this year. This
year there is something internal.
Something internal which has me “into Christmas” in a way which has
lacked in years prior. In such a way
that the whole of the Christmas story, when I pause to truly consider it, makes
me a little weak in the knees. Makes me wonder.
Makes me tremble. Takes my breath
away. Something internal which causes my
soul to well up, with a Hallelujah.
“In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a
census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census
that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria Nazareth in Galilee to
Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David David Bethlehem
“After Jesus was born in Bethlehem
in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem
