[Propertalk] Christmss sermon from GoodPreacher.com

[Joe Parrish]

from GoodPreacher.com:





Henry wished the clerk at the store a Merry Christmas and crumpled the bags around the necks of his two bottles of no-so-cheap wine. 
As evening fell, he crouched in a doorway and drank the first in no time. A bitter wind made his bare hands cold around the bottle and his knees began to ache. So he hoisted himself up and down the street. Henry chose the streets tonight. He hated the shelters on Christmas Eve—so jolly, so crowded, so deceptively hopeful.
He walked past the old stone church across from the courthouse. Across the long lawn, by the steps of the sanctuary, was the manger, empty except for some bales of hay and a lighted star overhead. Henry remembered the story of the family that had no place, and how the manger provided a night of rest and warmth. He decided that tonight it would do for him, too. Henry walked across the lawn and found the hay bales closest to the back of the manger. A dark corner. Protected from view. Henry pulled some hay around him as camouflage from any wandering police or religious pilgrims. Downed Bottle Number Two, and curled up to sleep until Christmas morn.
In Henry’s dream, there was an angel choir. And then a child speaking.
"And she gave birth to her firstborn son," the child said, "and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them at the inn."
The waking dream brought Henry a sleepy smile until his foggy mind realized the voice was no dream. This was real. Henry’s eyes shot open. He had died. He was sure he was dead and the angels were coming to get him. He froze in terror.
The child’s voice went on.
"In that region, there were shepherds in their fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night…."
Henry shut and opened his eyes until he remembered where he had laid down. The church, the lawn, the manger scene. Except now there were voices. Henry could feel the presence of people, lots of people. Holding his breath, he slowly turned his head and could see between the bales of hay that protected him.
There he was. Smack in the middle of First Presbyterian Church’s Christmas Eve Living Creche Candlelight Service. Henry stifled himself from speaking aloud the full name of the Lord. He closed his eyes. Opened them again. And slowly let himself breathe in the Holy mystery of a reckless Almighty that would land him in such a ridiculous scene. Between the bales he could see Mary and Joseph and a crib made of wood. A baby doll and shepherds passing by.
And as the angel child spoke her words, Henry’s memory began to work in very old ways. In little more than a whisper, he moved his lips and from his mouth came the words of the angel child, in perfect, quiet unison.
"Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger."
And suddenly, with the angel child, Henry and all the children were praising God, and saying,
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."
Henry closed his eyes. For a moment, he, too, was an angel. He was a shepherd. He was a king.
Eventually, the crowd sang, "Silent Night," blew out their candles, wound up the electrical cords, picked up the crib, loaded up the children, and went home. When he was certain that the last churchgoer had gone, Henry sat up, then poked his head over the top of the hay bales. Looking up at the stars, he spoke to the One he knew was watching from safe on high.
"Dear Lord," he said. "That was a close one."
How close do you allow yourself to the manger? For this is a place where shepherds and kings, even people who regard themselves as not worthy or hopeless, can come. The manger is a place where there is no need to keep a safe distance. It’s the place where the angels are saying to you, "Fear not, for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all."
Not just to the holy. To all.
Tonight, in your hearts, I invite you to come close to the manger. Come close to your Lord, born for you in a place called Bethlehem of Judea—and called, right here.
James McTyre
Lake Hills Presbyterian Church
Knoxville, TN
(from a sermon submitted to GoodPreacher.com) 





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