Always Christmas

In the C.S. Lewis classic, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the four Pevensie children are sent away from London to a house in the country. More specifically, they are sent away to keep them safe(r) from the horrors and dangers of World War II. While in the country house, they discover a magical wardrobe that transports them to a different world: Narnia. 

 

Lucy, the youngest Pevensie, is the first to enter Narnia. There she meets Mr. Tumnus, a gentle faun, who tells her some about this magical world. While Lucy marvels at the animals who speak and the reality of magical creatures, Mr. Tumnus explains to her that all is not well in Narnia. “It is winter in Narnia,” said Mr. Tumnus, “and has been for ever so long…always winter, but never Christmas.”

This long-lasting winter goes on and on. For the creatures of Narnia, always winter means a perpetual state of longing for spring and no end to the season of not-enough. Never Christmas means there is never a celebration of light and love, there is no exchange of joy, no thrill of hope. Narnia is a weary world that longs to rejoice. 

 

There is the faintest rumor that Aslan, the lion king, is on the move, but until that whisper becomes a shout, there is only endless snow, unrelenting darkness, and a worry about having enough for as long as the season will last. The entirety of the "always winter" metaphor is meant to describe what it is like to live in fear, under a curse, without an end in sight. 

 

The reality for most of us, right now, is that even when we are having unseasonably warm weather, we still live in a world that feels like always winter and never Christmas. The news of wars does not end. The reality of cruelty, from one group to another, is inescapable. We know all too well what it means to feel as if there is not enough- not enough money, not enough time, not enough hope. 

There is a restful side of winter- the thoughts of seeds and plants preparing underground or within their barest stems, pregnant animals, and quiet stillness before the rush of spring. But like Mr. Tumnus, we’re rarely getting the chance to experience the restorative side. The chaos and frenetic nature of life today means we only get that positive wintering in small bits, rather than a whole season. 

 

Christmas itself easily gets caught up in the frantic worry about deprivation, rather than in the stillness and renewal. Confronted with buying for the holiday by mid-summer, the pressure to take advantage of sales, to do everything, to be cheery, and jolly, and to make perfect memories does not carry the warmth of July into the winter. Instead, this overwhelming tide of commercials and expectations carries winter deprivation into the season of more than enough. Always winter and never Christmas- never ready, never prepared enough, always going to be a letdown. 

 

The frustrating reality of this ongoing metaphor, for this preacher, is that we are not in Narnia. We are not waiting for Aslan to appear. Our lion king has already come! Our wait ended two thousand years ago when a young, affianced woman in Nazareth said "Let it be" to the angel Gabriel. Our longing was met when Joseph laid that tightly swaddled newborn on the clean hay in the manger. 

 

We've been singing, "He comes to make his blessings known, far as the curse is found" for generations. It was likely the chorus that the shepherds hummed to themselves as they returned to their flocks, after seeing the truth of what the angels had told them. We talk about the reason for the season, sometimes forgetting that same Reason is truth for every season- every season of the year, every season of life. 

 

I am not saying that winters of grief and frustration and stress are not real. I am saying, however, that they do not define us. They are not the last word in a world wherein the Word of the Father has appeared in the flesh. A word of love, a word of hope, a word of mercy- Jesus was born to poor parents, in a small town, and his birth announcement went to outsiders- shepherds in the fields and foreign kings from Persia. They were the outsiders of their time, and we receive the same birth announcement in our own time. 

 

For a child has been born for us,
    a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders,
    and he is named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6)

 

More than just an earworm from Handel, this is the announcement for our time. Already, in and among us, is One who mediates and brings peace to all, who is greater than any idol to which we give time and treasure, who raises us with justness, mercy, and love. 

 

What would it be like if we who believe in this Christmas miracle lived it all year long? Not in the permanent Santa’s village way, but more in the way of this quote from Albert Camus:

 

In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.
In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.
I realized, through it all, that…
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back. (Albert Camus, The Stranger)

 

Invincible calm, invincible love, invincible summer. This is the gift of Christmas. As we sing in Hark! The Herald Angels, “Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of Righteousness! Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings.” One bright star shines within all of us- the invincible love and tenderness of the One who made us, knows us, and loves us. 

 

Light and life, light and life, light and life. In the midst of the world’s winter, light and life. 

 

We are called and equipped, when we trust in this original Christmas miracle, to carry the joy of this moment through the whole year. Not in a fake way, but just as the Bible readings and the carols do. We acknowledge the weary road of life. We acknowledge the curses of the forces that oppose God. We acknowledge that the fullness of peace and joy does not yet seem evident. We see the brokenness, but we work to bring healing and we know that pain does not have the last word. We hold the truths of what has already been done in God’s love alongside the promises of what is to come, and we wait.

 

And still, we sing. And still, we hope. And still, we rejoice. 

 

We do it today. And in March, and in June, and in September, we are never worried about how many days until Christmas. 

 

Because for us, for the whole world, Christ the Savior is born. He has come. We are not waiting. 

 

And, thus, at the very heart of our human experience with the Divine, it is always Christmas, never winter. 

 

Always Christmas. 

 

Always. Christmas. For everyone. Forever. 

 

Amen. 

When Not Yet isn't Soon Enough (Longest Night 2023)

Within the Christian faith, we have many tensions. A tension, in this use of the word, is when we hold more than one thing to be true at the same time. It is not a coincidence that Christianity has the Trinity- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit- as a central tenet because we must learn early that binaries will never encompass the fullness of God and how Divine Love works in the world. 

 

We have the tension of both discipline (law) and grace (gospel) to hold together, guiding us toward the range of God’s expectations and mercy. We have the pull between mystery and revelation- the ways that the Eternal Light has been made manifest and tangible on earth and the things that we still hold in faith to be true, without having seen any kind of proof.  

 

We also have a time tension- a strain between understanding that God’s ways are not our ways. Neither God’s time nor God’s timing is like ours either. The pressure of this difference highlights one of the more difficult of the Christian tensions- already and not yet. 

 

Already and not yet covers the span of what we already know God has done- made promises to our ancestors and kept them. The Holy One reconciled the earth to her Maker through Christ. The Spirit has kept the church alive through the ages- even when the way the faith was lived changed shape and expression. 

 

That same reconciling and sustaining power is still at work today, which gives us a “now” in the middle of the already and the not yet. (I told you binaries don’t fully elucidate the situation.) 

 

The not yet is hard. There is no way to cushion that blow. 

 

We do not yet know why bad things happen to good people. 

 

We do not yet perceive the full reign of the Prince of Peace. 

 

We do not yet see all people united as one family of God and the animals together as in the image of the peaceable kingdom from Isaiah. 

 

We have not yet beaten our swords into plow blades. 

 

We do not yet understand suffering or what to do when it seems the shadows have overcome the light. 

 

Not yet, not yet, not yet. 

 

When the not yet becomes overwhelming- as we watch the news, as we grieve, as we experience a season of difficulty- we must help one another remember the now. 

 

When I looked for good news headlines of 2023, I saw information about entering a golden age of medicine- including a potential cure for AIDS, new cancer treatments, and many countries eliminating specific deadly illnesses. Many countries began to have more collaborative conversations about changing weather patterns and how to cooperate through the experience. Deforestation in the Amazon decreased by 55% and several animals were taken off the endangered species list, as well as other animals being reintroduced to their original homes. More than 254 million acres of land have been restored to Indigenous groups around the world through successful land back and reparations movements. 

 

I invite to you pause for a minute and think about your own “nows” of the year- what are the things that happened across the year that fed your hope, gave you joy, or increased your awareness of God’s work in the world. 

 

(For me, my daughter’s all-clear MRI two years out from her brain tumor surgery is a massive NOW of God’s work through science and medical vocations.) 

 

Our songs tonight were selected to highlight and comfort us within the tensions of already, now, and not yet. 

 

When we sing “Joyous Light of Heavenly Glory” and “Children of the Heavenly Father”, we’re singing of what God has done. We sing of the love of creation, and we sing of God’s knowledge of nesting birds, stars in heaven and our own needs. These two songs underscore our trust in what God has done. 

 

“Come Now, O Prince of Peace” is a song of not yet. This is a specific song on that theme for it was written by Korean hymnist Geonyong Lee as a hymn for the opening worship service on a conference for the peace and reunification of the Korean peninsula in 1988. This song speaks to our ache for what is not yet, but what we know God can do. 

 

Finally, we will close our service with “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear”. Unusual among Christmas carols, this hymn does not mention Jesus’ birth at all. The song is purely about the message of the angels. While recalling the angels of the Christmas story bringing good news to the shepherds, it speaks of what the angels are doing right now. They are still singing a song of peace- a song that can be heard by those who pause and listen for it. Rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing. 

 

The song of peace is happening now. It echoes what is already and it leads toward what is not yet. It is a song of love, a song of peace, a song of joy, and a song of hope. It is the song we need when the “not yet” gets too loud and the substance of the “already” is too far in the past. 

 

In this season, remember the nows of this year. Know that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot, will not, shall not overcome it. Pause and listen and for a few moments, on this longest of nights, give back the song, which now the angels sing.