When the Word Pitches His Tent Among Us, It’s a Brand New World

John 1.1-18

 

A Sermon Preached by Dave Shull

First Sunday after Christmas, December 26, 2004

University Congregational United Church of Christ

Seattle, Washington

 

The Word was first,

the Word present to God,

God present to the Word,

The Word was God,

in readiness for God from day one. 

 

Everything was created through him;

nothing – not one thing –

came into being without him.

What came into existence was Life,

            and the Life was Light to live by.

The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness;

            the darkness couldn’t put it out.

 

There once was a man, his name John, sent by God to point out the way to the Life-Light.  He came to show everyone where to look, who to believe in.  John was not himself the Light; he was there to show the way to the Light.

 

The Life-Light was the real thing:

            Every person entering Life

            he brings into Light.

He was in the world,

            the world was there through him,

            and yet the world didn’t even notice.

He came to his own people,

            but they didn’t want him.

But whoever did want him,

            who believed he was who he claimed

            and would do what he said,

He made to be their true selves,

            their child-of-God selves.

These are the God-begotten,

            not blood-begotten, 

            not flesh-begotten,

            not sex-begotten.

 

The Word became flesh and blood

            and moved into the neighborhood.

We saw the glory with our own eyes,

            the one-of-a-kind glory,

            like Father, like Son,

Generous inside and out,

            true from start to finish.

 

 John pointed him out and called, ‘This is the One!  The One I told you was coming after me but in fact was ahead of me.  He has always been ahead of me, has always had the first word.’

 

We all life off his generous bounty,

            gift after gift after gift.

We got the basics from Moses,

            and then this exuberant giving and receiving,

This endless knowing and understanding –

            all this came through Jesus, the Messiah.

No one has ever seen God,

            not so much as a glimpse.

This one-of-a-kind God-Expression,

            who exists at the very heart of the Father,

            has made him plain as day.

 

                                                John 1.1-18

                                                Eugene Peterson translation, The Message

 

           

Those of you who attended our Christmas pageant last Friday evening received an early Christmas present.  Hannah Merrill, a sixth-grader in this congregation, wrote a play based on the familiar gospel story of the birth of Jesus.  As I watched the pageant, I felt God reaching out and grabbing me.  I felt like I ‘got’ in a new way what God was doing by coming to this earth as one of us.  The generosity, the infinite friendliness, the sacrifice, the miracle of God’s coming in Jesus Christ moved me in a new way.

 

The Gospel lesson from John that Jennifer and Gary just read also tells the story of God coming to earth in Jesus Christ.  But, you know, I’ve never heard of any turning that story into a Christmas pageant.  Something about the word becoming flesh and moving into the neighborhood doesn’t lend itself to costumes for six-year-olds and snappy carols.

 

I think scholars have written more words about the Word becoming flesh than any other passage in the New Testament.  Volumes and volumes have been written that try to explain exactly what John is trying to say.  And yet, finally, like anything having to do with faith, the story can become true only if we experience it as being true.  Experience leads to deeper faith, not the other way around.  I could spend my life studying this passage and never experience God trying to grab me with her love in coming to us as Jesus.  And yet I believe that’s why John wrote this gospel.  The Word pitched his tent in John’s life – he moved into John’s neighborhood.  John met him.  And John was never the same again.  For John, it was a brand new world.  So he wrote this Gospel.  To proclaim this story, and to call his listeners to open themselves to discovering the Christ who had moved into their neighborhood as well.

 

Jesus Christ, the Word-made-flesh-and-bones has also pitched his tent in my life.  He’s moved into my neighborhood.  And his coming landed me into a brand new world.

 

Twenty-five years ago this Christmas my parents were in the agonizing position of having to hospitalize my brother.  He had begun having thoughts that were not healthy for him.  A week after he was hospitalized, I moved to Washington, D.C., to begin an off-campus study program at American University.  The first Sunday I was in Washington – it was the second Sunday of January in 1980 – I found myself walking across the street to attend Metropolitan Memorial Methodist Church.  That may not sound that unusual for a pastor, but I have to tell you that, up to that point, I had not looked forward to going to church for over six years. 

 

I don’t know what happened.  But I know during that service God grabbed me.  I wish I could tell you the minister preached an incredible sermon that broke down all the obstacles I had created to receiving God’s love.  I wish I could tell you the choir sang something that transported me into a different realm.  I wish I could tell you that the people welcomed me so warmly I felt surrounded by the love of Christ.  But I don’t remember what the minister said, what the scripture readings were, what the choir sang, or whether anyone spoke to me.  All I know is that during that service the Word pitched his tent in my midst and moved into my neighborhood.  And I found myself in a brand new world.

 

This wasn’t just a fleeting experience, either.  One month later, I wrote this in my journal:

 

10 February 1980: ‘Church soon – my first time singing with the Methodist choir.  Boy they seem like nice people.  It should be a lot of fun.  I’m still not sure what my religious views are.  I’m sure I believe in something, but I don’t know quite what.  My old stumbling blocks of a just God allowing the world to suffer still haunt me . . . Wish me luck on the paper this afternoon.  Now more than ever I feel like I can do it.  Maybe church will inspire me even more . . .  I already feel calmer and more at peace with myself and my limitations.’

 

My hope for you is that in this new year you will open yourselves up to the Jesus who has pitched his tent among you and moved into your neighborhood.  And that in doing that you will find yourself in a brand new world.  And my hope for us as a church is that we will be for each other what writer Anne Lamott has received from her church.  Lamott writes,“I don’t spend time looking for answers.  I’m just desperately relieved to have been claimed.  Church reminds me of whose I am, and I stop thinking about who I am – and everything falls into place” (“Forgiving Helps Writer Heal,” The Honolulu Advertiser, Feb. 27, 1999, p. B3).

 

May it be so for all of us.  Amen.