The Good News of Christmas-Part 1 (Luke 2:7)

On an unusually blue-sky afternoon in March 2015 I stood with seven intrepid explorers from Highland on the ancient stones of the Forbidden City. Our visit fell several days after the Chinese New Year. This holiday left factories vacant and the smog they produced dormant. The workplaces rested like giant napping dragons. For a few glorious days we joined Beijing’s twenty-one million in celebrating crisp air and clear skies.

Our guide, a native of Beijing, shared tales which brought the venerable palace to life. The Forbidden City was the geographical, economical, spiritual and emotional center of Beijing. From its heart pumped life to the rest of the city and the region. Built as the home of China’s emperors, the “forbidden” in Forbidden City meant that most were banned from entering. Unless your status was unusually high up, its gates remained closed up.

The massive complex housed nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine and a half rooms–half a room shy of “heaven.” The ancient Chinese venerated the emperors, believing them to be just a step below the gods. Thus the great leader’s palace had nearly as many rooms as were believed to exist in their version of heaven. Only paradise promised greater prosperity to the one on the throne.

I touched the immense statue next to one of those nearly ten thousand rooms. It depicted a lion with his paw resting on a globe. The emperor, it was symbolizing, ruled over the whole globe. A lion is king of the jungle. An emperor is king of the world. Starting with its initial construction in 1407, the Forbidden City witnessed the divine enthronement of twenty-four emperors.

These hallowed grounds revealed the emperor’s primary posture toward the world. He chose a protective stance that created isolation from the world. All precautions were taken to keep the hazardous world away from the emperor. Nothing symbolized this better than the massive wall surrounding the city.

No antagonist could even get near the emperor due to the stories-tall wall which stood as an impenetrable sentry around the grounds.

• Soaring over the wall was unimaginable. It’s apex exceeded even the most skilled, creative and courageous climber’s attempt to summit.
• Speeding through the wall was unthinkable. The wall was interrupted five times by gates. Each gate was actually a trio of entrances. Each was heavily guarded by palace forces. And even if you possessed a status elevated enough to be invited through a gate, if you walked the middle gate you were executed. No one but the emperor could use the central gateways.
• Shoveling under the wall was unreasonable. The courtyard consisted of fifteen layers of hard stone bricks. Any enemy patient enough to tunnel through the dirt from outside would dent his shovel and his head against the fifteen-layer deep foundation.

If some rebel managed to penetrate the wall, the emperor still remained inaccessible. Since most attacks would likely take place under the cover of darkness, the emperor had nine bedrooms with three beds each. He switched beds every night. Even the most intelligent invader wouldn’t know which bedroom to attack or which bed to hit.

The emperor chose the protective stance of isolation from the world.

But Jesus chose the perilous stance of intimacy with the world. Though his original home was heaven (not a facsimile half a room shy) he determined to relate to outsiders in a strikingly different manner. And though he truly did hold the whole world in his hands, his posture was very un-emperor-like. The Bible’s message is that Jesus did not seek to make a Forbidden City, but an Unforbidden City–one into which all people would be invited. To make this possible, Jesus chose the perilous stance of intimacy with the world around him. Simply put, Jesus drew near to us. We celebrate that at Christmas.

Nowhere is the peril of this posture more easily seen than than in the birth of Jesus. Entering our world as an infant was risky. Yet nothing created such intimacy as Jesus’ infancy.

Luke’s is a perfect summary:

And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. (Luke 2:7 ESV)

With three phrases, Luke alerts us to three perils Jesus endured in order to draw as close as possible to us:

1. “she gave birth to her firstborn son” – Jesus endured hazardousness;
2. “wrapped him in swaddling clothes” – Jesus endured helplessness;
3. “and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn” – Jesus endured homelessness.

Let’s explore each of these three–grasping each enabled Jesus to be good news and wrestling with how each shapes the church in becoming good news.

“she gave birth to her firstborn son” – Jesus chose the peril of hazardousness. He chose a dangerous path when he decided to draw near to us.

I skied often as I grew up in the mountains of southern New Mexico. Many times my mother read and relaxed at the ski lodge which stood at the base of the mountain while my father, brother and I skied. If I was at the top of the mountain and wanted to close the distance between myself and my mom, I had three types of paths to choose from:

1. I could ski the runs marked with a green circle. The green circle indicated that those runs were smooth, wide and had shallow inclines. They were easy.
2. Or, I could ski the runs marked with a blue square. Those runs were less smooth, narrower and had steeper inclines. They were moderately challenging.
3. Finally, I could ski the black diamond runs. They were usually filled with large bumps called moguls, were carved narrowly between tall trees and were so steep that your stomach dropped just looking at them. They were for experts only.

If I wanted to close the distance between me high up on the mountain and my mother down in the ski lodge I could choose easy, challenging or downright hard paths.

When Jesus sought to close the distance between heaven and us, he had many paths from which to choose from as well.

1. In a green circle kind of way, he could have just floated among us as a kind of spirit–someone who looked human but really was more of a spirit. This would have saved him all the mess of actually being human.
2. In a blue square kind of way, he could have taken on full human flesh, but done so without any of the burden of birth. He could have just appeared as a human adult among us, bypassing all childhood challenges.
3. Instead, he chose the black diamond path. The most difficult. The most hazardous. He specifically and strategically chose to go through childbirth and childhood so that he might draw as close as possible to us.

There’s nothing easy about childbirth and childhood, is there?

Your own experience as an infant and a child probably proves this point. Reflect for a moment on your childbirth and your childhood:

• Did you suffer complications at birth?
• Did you ever have a broken bone?
• Were you ever involved in a serious accident on a bicycle, skateboard, surfboard or in some other way?
• Did you ever contract a serious disease?

Now consider your experience as a parent or grandparent:

• Did your child/ grandchild suffer complications at birth?
• Did your child/ grandchild ever have a broken bone?
• Was your child/ grandchild ever involved in a serious accident?
• Did your child/ grandchild ever contract a serious disease?

Most of us don’t have to look any further than our own past to realize just how touch childbirth and childhood can be.

I know–I almost died at childbirth. My twin and I were born six weeks early. I weighed 3lb.10oz. Craig weighed 4 lb. 12oz–I think it’s clear to everyone based on those birth weights that Craig was hogging all the food in the womb. I was so ill-prepared for life outside the womb that doctors kept me in the neonatal intensive care unit for a month. Craig only needed two weeks. Thankfully, I did survive and started to grow. And I managed to make it through my first birthday, and 46 more. But it was a tough start. Childbirth and childhood is tough.

Yet Jesus chose to be born: “she gave birth to her firstborn son.”

Shelby County, Tennessee (the county in which my city of Memphis rests) is filled with children who face grave hazards:

• In 2003 we had 15 baby deaths per 1,000 live births. This was the worst infant mortality rate in the U.S., similar to some developing nations such as French Guiana, Kuwait and Lithania.^[1]
• Thankfully that rate dropped over the intervening years (2010: 10.3 baby deaths per 1,000 live births; 2011: 9.6 baby deaths per 1,000 live births; 2012: 10.6 baby deaths per 1,000 live births.^[2]
• But in 2014 several Memphis zip codes had infant mortality rates that were still three times the national average.^[3]

Even now, in the 21st Century, childbirth and childhood is really tough in Memphis and Shelby County. Yet Jesus chose to be born: “she gave birth to her firstborn son.”

We find similar hazards when we look at the United States and the world.

• According for the Centers for Disease Control, more than 23,000 infants died in the United States in 2013.
• U.S. News & World Report shares that there more than 1 million miscarriages each year in the Unites States.^[4]
• And the World Health Organization reports that in 2015 4.5 million infants will die.^[5]

Even now, in the 21st Century, childbirth and childhood is really tough across the world. Yet Jesus chose to be born: “she gave birth to her firstborn son.”

These hazards were even more pronounced in Jesus’ day.

• One scholar of ancient Israel finds that approximately 30% of children born in ancient Israel would not reach maturity.^[6]
• It is estimated that in ancient Rome, the infant mortality rate was between 25%-35%.^[7]
• Another scholar of the ancient world in the time of the Bible estimates that as many as 50% of children born would not live to adulthood.

Especially in the first century, childbirth and childhood was hazardous. Yet Jesus chose to be born: “she gave birth to her firstborn son.”

Now, some may say, Jesus was never in any real danger. After all, he wasn’t going to die, right? Jesus does say this:

17 For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. 18 No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father.” (Jn. 10:17-18 ESV).

No one and nothing could take Jesus’ life until he was ready to lay it down. Thus, no childhood disease or childbirth threat could steal his life unless he was ready to give it.

However, while Jesus’ death as an infant or child may have been unlikely, his suffering as a baby and a child was not unlikely. It would have been very real. The Hebrew author reminds us:

Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect…

(Heb. 2:17 ESV)

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.

(Heb. 4:15 ESV)

Even as an infant and a child, Jesus was like us in every respect. Every respect. Cut him, he bled. Punch him, he bruised. Give him a virus, he got a cold. He felt fatigue. He knew hunger and thirst. And his young infant and childhood body and mind was just as susceptible to pain and suffering as yours, to discomfort and disease as yours. He may not have faced death. But the fact that so many children then and now do die indicates just how tough, physically and emotionally, it is to be born and to be a child. And Jesus would have experienced those hazards deeply.

Yet Jesus chose that path to draw near to us.

Why? Why not just appear among us as a spirit? Why not just arrive as a fully grown human? Why endure the hazards of childbirth and childhood?

One reason was articulated by the Hebrew author. Jesus chose to endure these perils so he could sympathize with us in our perils. Jesus’ hazards in birth mean he sympathizes with our hazards in life.  Our world is a perilous place. Our lives are filled with hazards. With dangers. With things that threaten our physical and emotional health. And Jesus entered into similar types of pain through childbirth and childhood so he could sympathize with our pain. Jesus lived hurt so he could empathize with us when we hurt.

So many of us in this room have lived hurt. We’ve broken bones. We’ve endured diseases. We’ve been plagued by cancer or by chronic arthritis pain. We’ve had the flu. We’ve had shingles. We’ve known the kind of fatigue that makes you nearly pass out. We’ve struggled with asthma and allergies. And what a joy it is to know that Jesus specifically chose a path to us that exposed him to similar threats. He knows what hurt is. And thus he sympathizes with us.

And this makes our gospel very good news to the world. Our message to the world is not that we have an emperor who sits protected behind closed doors. We have a savior who chose a path to intimacy with us that left him open to disease and discomfort. In this world of attacks and accidents, of wounds and weariness, we present a message to the world of a savior who knows the same. That’s good news.

But there’s even more. Jesus also chose this path because he wanted to encourage us to do the same. Because the church follows a savior who endured hazards to draw near to us, we must now also chose to endure hazards to draw near to others.

Too often the church is like that emperor. Too often the church has chosen isolation from a hurting world in order to protect ourselves. But if we seek to be like Jesus, we must select the opposite. We must choose intimacy with the world even if it hurts.

In other words, we must be a birthing community. Jesus’ birth calls the church to be a birthing community–a community willing to face peril to draw near to others. Just as Jesus chose the peril of birth to draw near to us, so the church must willingly face peril to draw near to others. That’s what it means to be a birthing community.

In the 1990’s, there were over 90,000 gang members in Los Angeles.^[8] Nearly 2,000 people were dying each year, many of them from gang-related violence. Law Enforcement agencies struggled to contain the violence much less change the hearts of those committing it. Enter Gregory Boyle, a Jesuit priest. He decided that the Christian faith had something to offer these gang members. That compassion could overcome aggression. He started a program which became known as Homeboy Industries. It provides job skills training and employment opportunities for former gang members. He raises $10 million each year to keep the program afloat. It’s dangerous and messy work. He’s buried 200 young adults over the years who died from gang related violence. Their office is often the target of attacks, even bomb threats. But he, his congregation, and others continue to draw near to the gangs in spite of the hazards because that’s what Jesus did.

In one interview he recalled how things came to a head one night at the parish he preached for, the poorest parish in Los Angeles at the time.^[9] He and other church members had been reaching out to gang members trying to get them to leave drugs and violence. Now, gang members were hanging out at the small church building. Smoking together in small groups. Lifting weights in a church garage. Taking classes because they’d been kicked out of schools. He tells it this way:

This didn’t thrill all parishioners, and the grumbling reached a pitch that forced me to call a parish meeting. The parish hall was packed; this would be either a vote of confidence in my leadership or an opportunity for the parishioners to tell me, “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry.” I didn’t speak. But the “E. F. Huttons” of the community (when they spoke, people tended to listen), Teresa Navarro and Paula Hernandez, needed only to stand and invoke Jesus. “We help gang members at this parish because it is what Jesus would do.” People applauded and the parish never looked back.

Jesus’ birth calls the church to be a birthing community–a community that faces peril in order to draw near to others.

Well, so what? What do we do with that this week? Two things.

First, consider writing an “aches, pains and praise” prayer to Jesus. Sit down and write down all the aches and pains in your life right now. They may be physical. They may be emotional. They may be spiritual. Write them all down. Then spend some time praising Jesus for choosing a path to us that allows him to sympathize with you. He knows what it’s like to have aches and pains. Praise him for that.

Second, perhaps you have someone in your life whom you’ve kept at a distance. Sometimes that’s necessary. Sometimes we have to keep some people at an arm’s length because they can inflict serious physical or emotional harm. But perhaps you’ve got someone you’ve unnecessarily kept at a distance. And perhaps this Christmas it’s time to draw near. To forgive. To reconcile. To love. It may cost. It may be messy. It may be hazardous. But consider closing that gap in spite of the peril.

Let’s close by praying this prayer out loud together:

Thank you Jesus for choosing the hazard of childbirth so that you might empathize with the hazards of my life. Thank you for overcoming those hazards to draw near to me when I needed you. Help me to overcome any hazards necessary in order to draw near to those who need me.