Christmas

An author that I'm currently reading at the moment, the name of Joshua Ryan Butler, has just released a book called The Pursuing God. The Pursuing God. And in this book, in the opening chapter really, he has this story of a vision or a picture in his mind's eye, a story that he sees unfolding. And it's about a phenomenal artist busy with his great masterpiece, the thing that will put his name on the map. And he writes the description of what is happening as he sees it.

He says this artist is painting a mural the size of this entire wall framed with a golden frame. And he's throwing beautiful splashes of colour into it. He's lavishly, lavishly putting bold strikes and marks across this painting. He's so involved in it. He's physically pouring himself into it.

You can just see that everything he has is going into this piece of art. And at the end of hours and hours of work, he looks at it, and he stands back, and it's almost as if to say, it's good. It's really good. And he says, Joshua Ryan Butler, he says that as he's looking at this, something strange happens next, however. He sees right in the middle a small dark black spot bubbling away in the centre.

I thought, what's that? He says. And the artist watches as this mould-like decay begins to bubble and spread like a crack in a windshield. And it starts at one point, but gradually expands its fissures and fractures across the whole masterpiece. The invasive intruder begins to stretch its thin, straggly arms, creeping its corruption across the canvas.

The masterpiece is threatened by destruction. What will the artist do? I wondered. And what happened next was the strangest, most bizarre thing I would have ever expected. The artist lifts his leg and places it inside the painting. And then his shoulder goes through, and his torso, and finally his head.

And then, whoosh, he's in the painting. The artist stood within the work his hands had made at the centre of this masterpiece. I thought to myself, that's weird. But even stranger was what happened next. This moldy black rot begins to wrap its tentacles around the artist.

It begins to attack the artist. The great painter, however, runs and he embraces the centre of it. And he holds it over his own heart. The tentacle starts retreating from the cornered edges and they sink into the artist himself, blow by blow by blow. The creator receives the corruption at the centre of his masterpiece onto himself.

Until with a loud noise, the corruption is gone. The masterpiece is restored. The artist has absorbed this destructive power until it was extinguished. But he says, to my surprise, the artist doesn't step out of the painting again. The artist stays inside. Having united his life with the canvas, he remained permanently at the centre of this masterpiece.

Restored. But in a way, the word restore doesn't seem right, he says, because the work has now become even more glorious with his presence inside. He brought radiance and such beauty to that painting that it seemed to glow with life. There was a peaceful sense that this now was the way it was always meant to have been. The artist standing at the centre of the painting.

This now is the true masterpiece. At Christmas time, we hear the story of a manger and of shepherds and of wise men. And we hear the accounts of Matthew and Luke, and we sing them at Christmas carols, and we love doing that. Last Sunday, we did that here again. Last Sunday night, we read Luke and we read Matthew, and we place ourselves as flies on the wall over this beautiful, intimate scene.

But there's another account in the Gospel of John that talks about that moment where God stepped into His masterpiece, where God took on flesh and He made His dwelling among us. And so I would like you to turn with me to John, the Gospel of John chapter one, and we're going to read those famous verses. And if you like, there's a bit of an exercise. As I read these words, as you read these words, imagine the Christmas scene. Imagine Bethlehem.

Imagine the star. Imagine the wise men. Imagine the baby in the manger there, but let these words fill that picture for you. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.

Through Him, all things were made. Without Him, nothing was made that has been made. In Him was life and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. There came a man who was sent from God.

His name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light so that through him all men might believe. He himself, however, was not the light. He came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.

Now He was in the world and though the world was made through Him, the world did not recognize Him. He came to that which was His own, but His own did not receive Him. Yet to all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God, children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God. The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only who came from the Father full of grace and truth.

So far, our reading. We see John preferring to move away from the human interest story, the current affairs stories of Christmas time. They're the things that pique our interest sometimes, and he wants to dig into the deeper, larger picture of what is going on here. God, he says, came to be with us. Just in case you got lost in all the details about the shepherds and the angels and the babies, hear this, he says. God came to be with us.

For John, the incarnation, which means God in flesh, is one of the most important aspects of the Christian message. Without the incarnation, we do not have Christianity. And in majestic words, the apostle John writes about Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, the Son of God, who in verse one, he says, was the Word of God, was God and he came. Now in Greek philosophy, these words would have had so much when they were first read in the ancient Near East. Logos, the Greek word for word, was the centre, was a philosophy about reason and logic.

It was the place where in our human existence, where our thoughts come from, where our understanding of how things fit together comes from. That was the logos part of us. It's an abstract force when it relates to God, however, or the deity that created. In that it is the abstract power that brought order and harmony to the universe for the Greeks. It's this power out there that put everything together in such a way that everything works well together. But here is John saying this abstract idea is flesh, is a person, is summed up in Jesus.

But the majesty of John's opening to his Gospel continues and he speaks of this Christmas night, the night that Jesus was born by saying in verse nine, the true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world. The Word that is God had come to earth. And we see from the other accounts, the angels and the prophecies from Isaiah 49 that we read in Isaiah nine. This is a cosmic event. It is like the universe is holding its breath on this light.

It is quiet. It is lined up perfectly. Jesus, the Son of God has been born into the world. The light, the power that gives life has come into the world. And John goes on further, however, he sums up the irony of Jesus' entry into this world.

He illustrates the irony. He says verse 10, He was in the world. He came. And though the world had been made through Him, every single aspect, the world did not recognize Him on that night. Most of the world did not recognize Him in His 33 years.

He came to that which was His own, verse 11 says, but His own did not receive Him. And again, we see this from the other accounts in Matthew and Luke. Right from the outset, Jesus enters a world that hunts him down. Herod the Great hears about a coming king, the prophecies fulfilling, the Messiah, the anointed one. It kills dozens, hundreds perhaps of babies, boys.

His paranoia, his lust for power tries to suppress the coming king. John goes on to say in verse 12, yet to all who received Him, to all who were given the grace and the special insight. I wonder, those shepherds, they're just punching in for the night, just going about their normal shift, looking after some sheep. What would they have expected of that particular night? That night? We're just going to sleep around, sleep near the sheep and bang, the heavens rip open. Multitudes and multitudes of angelic voices singing praise to God that night.

And they would have thought, I can imagine, what did I do tonight to deserve this? I just rocked up to work. To those who received Him, to those God gave the grace to see, to those who put their trust in His name. Verse 12 says, He gave the right to become children of God. Children, however, born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.

And again, we hear that the wonderful promise of Christmas morning is that those who receive Him, those who believe in His name, those who simply say, I trust that what was done for me in the incarnation and in the purpose of Christ's coming, they will be given the right to be reborn children of God, to be completely remade, to be completely transformed. Last Sunday, we spoke about Matthew 10 verse 40. Just that meditation I wanted us to remember of Jesus saying of His own purpose many years after this coming. He said, those who receive Me receive the one who sent Me. God the Father, God, the Godhead, the Triune God, really, sent the Son as the agent of salvation.

Those who receive the Son, however, receive God. To those who believe that Jesus has come from God, that He came to redeem us, the same royal lineage of Jesus is given to them. How amazing. As we become co-heirs with Jesus. Jesus didn't come to be a baby in a manger.

We know that, right? That was not the purpose of His coming. He came to die on a cross. He came to suffer.

He came to appease and to satisfy the right and just wrath of God. He came to offer a new life, and that life was never simply going to be a happy life now. It is not enough, as that passage said. It is not enough. That is not glorious enough.

This life is a life that will go forever. It needs to go forever to match the glory of God. It is not a life simply of natural descent, nor of human decision, nor a husband's will, but offered, given, lasting by God. We're offered the right to become sons and daughters of the eternal God, to find the satisfaction, to find the peace that we in such small part taste today, that we in such small part can think of and simply imagine as we sing these hymns on Christmas. Peace to all men on whom His favour rests.

We receive a world that we've always hoped for but never had. As Christians, we believe that Christmas not only signifies the birth of Jesus, but the birth of every person who accepts Him as their king. Now secondly, God chose us to be born to Him. To Him. So not simply reborn, but to be born to Him.

He is now our Father in a much closer way than we sometimes realise. We've been taught to pray to Him as Father, but we seldom realise that in the most genuine sense of this word, He is a real Father. Verse 13 in John one says that we are born of God, and this is mind blowing. Again, the Greek is, means begotten. It is the same word used in John three sixteen.

Old English would say, for God so loved the world that He gave us His only begotten Son. In Christ, we are begotten by God. Because Jesus came on Christmas day, we now have a standing similar to Jesus. Not the same, not the one and only Son, but we share in a begottenness, in a new createdness, in a familial relationship with God. John says, He has given us the right to become children of God.

That word, the right, again, in the Greek means authority, rulership, power of government. In other words, it means that all those who believe, all the wealth, all the privilege, all the splendour, all the peace, and the power of God's kingdom is shared with us. If you have Christ, in other words, friend, you have everything. It doesn't matter if you don't have kids. Doesn't matter if you aren't married.

Doesn't matter if you're not wealthy. Doesn't matter if you've lost a loved one today and you're flying home to say goodbye. If you have Christ, you have the kingdom. If you have Christ, you have everything because you are begotten now by God. You are born of Him.

You are His son and daughter eternally. The apostle Paul sums this up in Galatians 4:4-7. He says, but when the time had fully come, when the perfection of time, the fullness of time had come, God sent His Son, born of a woman, born under law to redeem those also under law. Why? So that we might receive the full rights of sons.

Because Jesus came and because of His work on that cross that He came to do on Christmas, He has given the right for every single Christian to call God Father. But then he goes further in verse eight in Galatians four saying, God went and He sent the Spirit of His Son Christ into our hearts. So now not only are we mentally prepared to call Him Father and we understand that there's a new transaction that has taken place and enabled us to approach Him and draw near to Him whenever. Now we have the Spirit of the Son who perfectly loves His Father in us, and our hearts now desire God. Our hearts now see Him and understand Him and long for Him as Father.

And so from within us, Paul says, we now cry, Abba, Dad. And our souls yearn for God's fatherhood because of the Spirit within us. And in turn, we receive the fullness, again, of God's wealth and unsearchable joy, a joy that cannot be crushed by anything that happens. There's a story of a judge, and I don't know if it's a true story or not, but he was lying on his deathbed. And his minister was there, and it was the day before he would eventually pass away, and he said to his pastor, do you know enough about law to understand what is meant by joint tenancy in contract law?

The pastor replied, of course not. I don't know anything about law. Well, the old judge said, if you and I were joint tenants, say on this farm, I could not say to you that this is your patch of corn and this is mine. This is your stalk of wheat and this is mine. I could not say that this little blade of grass is yours and this one is mine.

Joint tenancy would mean that we share in everything in this property. He says, but, you know, as I've been lying here, I've been filled with an unspeakable sense of joy that Jesus Christ has nothing separate to me. That everything He has received, I share in somehow. And he said, when I pass away, I will share in all His things for eternity. We have joint tenancy with Jesus because of Christmas.

Friends, Christmas is about God like that artist entering into His masterpiece, doing something so amazing that for eternity we'll be singing its praise. We will be glorifying God for this amazing narrative, this amazing story that He has told. If you're a part of this church, you will know that I'm a fan of Tim Keller, a writer and a pastor. And he often, and you may have heard this already if you read his stuff or listen to his stuff, he sometimes refers to a lady by the name of Dorothy Sayers, who was a very, very powerful, persuasive, strong-willed woman in a time where it was male dominated.

She was the first woman, I think, in history to graduate with a degree at Oxford. She's a forerunner for the feminist movement. And she was a mystery novel writer, author. She wrote, like Agatha Christie, mystery novels. And her hero was a man, a character by the name of Peter Wimsey.

He was the mystery solver. And Peter Wimsey was a very awkward, hard to understand sort of person, but still endearing. He was just, yeah. People didn't get along with him. So he was a bachelor.

He lived by himself. And through all the books that she wrote and all the fantastic stories and mysteries that he solved, crimes that he solved, there was this sadness still about Peter that he was never able to find someone to understand him. But somewhere along these books, Dorothy Sayers writes a character into the story. A woman by the name of, let me just see, Harriet Vane.

Harriet Vane. And Harriet Vane was a very strong-willed woman who was an Oxford graduate who wrote mystery novels. And Peter Wimsey fell in love with Harriet. And Harriet married Peter. Because she, this is the author, so loved Peter Wimsey.

She wanted him to be loved. And this is the story of Christmas. Because God so loved us, He wrote Himself into our story. The incarnation is the greatest thing that has ever happened to us. It is the beginning of the end.

It is the beginning of eternal life, and it's because He loves us. May we remember this. May we be astounded by this again. May we be humbled this morning by it. Find yourself a little bit of quiet time today to thank God for this because He wrote Himself in for you.

Let's pray. Heavenly Father, we are astounded. We are humbled. That our God would enter our scene. And in entering that scene on that particular night, the main emotion was peace.

Why peace? Why not joy? Why not wonder? Why not mystery? Peace.

Because for the first time, a true solution to our problems had arrived. In the incarnation of the Word becoming flesh, we have now found our Brother with whom we will share forever in joint tenancy, the glories and the wonders and the riches of Your kingdom, oh God our Father. Thank You, God. Thank You for coming. Thank You for pursuing us.

Thank You for descending to us. Father, take our lives as sacrifices and offerings of thanks to You again. We commit them to You, Father, and work the things in us that is not pleasing to You, that is not in step with this great truth of our God that is for us. Tear it apart, God. Remove it from us.

Let this humility move us, Lord, to greater appreciation and commitment to the God who so loved us. Father, I pray that You keep us safe this time, that You bring us back safely to one another next week. Help us to celebrate well, full of true joy with family, with loved ones. Help us to celebrate with joy, God, because nothing can take this love away. We thank You for all these things because of Jesus. Amen.