Full Contact Christianity

Following Jesus is a daunting prospect. The religious elite rejected Jesus; the populist street-preachers hated him too; the political realists balked at Him. Later, the philosophers would be equally scandalized. Over the objections of all the Respectable People™, Christianity asserts this promise: that you, as you are, can partake of the divine nature, as it is. That in so partaking, you will not lose your humanity, but gain all that humanity was meant to be. 

We know this is possible because it has already happened. In Jesus, we meet undiminished humanity and undiminished deity in perfect harmony. Following Jesus doesn’t mean striving to check an impossible list of boxes; it means being united to the power to act as God’s hands and feet in the world. If Jesus’ life is any indication, this will not be a popular way to live. 

So bring out your respectability and set it on the dining room table. Treat it like Marie Kondo would treat an extra jacket: thank it, then put it in the box of thrift store donations. It’s someone else’s now. For you, it has become an encumbrance, and it’s time to let go. Merry Christmas!

After Jesus, it’s burned into the world’s consciousness that God might have business with you, a calling that has nothing to do with the role your family and community have assigned you. But why did Jesus change that? Wasn’t it always true? 

In a sense, yes. When Jesus came, the Hebrew Bible was already chock-full of unlikely people God had business with. Amos was (by his own famous admission) “neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet, but a sheep-breeder and a tender of figs” – and then, for one day, God called him to be a prophet anyhow. David was a shepherd, and about as far from the throne as you could get, but he ended up there anyway. Samuel wasn’t born to the right tribe for the (Levitical) work God had for him. Gideon wasn’t born to the right family either, nor Jephthah, Moses was a bad speaker, and so on. But under the Old Covenant, those people were a small minority. They were ordinary people called to extraordinary things, and we tell their stories precisely because they stepped up to the challenge.

In the New Covenant, Jesus was a human (like we are), submitted wholly to the Holy Spirit (like we’re often not), and He calls us all: “Follow Me!” Jesus destroys the expectation that extraordinary callings will remain extraordinary. We object, of course, as God’s people — Moses and Gideon among them — have always objected to extraordinary calling. In the words of C. S. Lewis, “That long way round which Dante trod was meant/for mighty saints and mystics and not for me!” But no. Jesus speaks to us all: “Follow Me!”

Martin Luther’s father planned for him to become a lawyer. If Martin had been born 1500 years earlier, he’d have had little choice. Born in Christendom, Martin had another option: he took orders and became an Augustinian friar. Many saints’ stories begin similarly, with a teenager avoiding an odious arranged marriage by becoming a monk or nun instead. 

In the old world, any member of your village could predict with reasonable accuracy your trade, where you would live, which family your spouse would come from. It was a world where you could plan your kids’ lives before they were ever born. Through the story of Jesus (who was supposed to be a construction worker, whose followers were supposed to be fishermen, tax collectors, etc.,) another possibility was forever burned into the consciousness of the world: God might have business with your kid. 

The church instantiated that new consciousness first in the desert hermit tradition, then in organized orders, then in blessing all lawful work, but across the centuries, the message is the same: your complacent certainty of who you are, of your role in the world, is an illusion. God might at any time call you in a different direction.

For us Christmas day often turns out to be a long day. This year, it landed on a Sunday, which made it all the more glorious, but also even more complicated than usual –organization, worship, cooking and travel, cookies, ham, and egg nog, multiple houses and friends and gift exchanges, ending in a game night that lasted into the wee hours of this morning. Every last bit was worth it. It was good to revel together in the goodness of all that God has given to us. And now, with 11 days of Christmastide remaining, we settle in for a different kind of celebration: what was it all about? 

Imagine being among the sheep that night. Suddenly the air above you is alive with an army of angels, and when you recover from your terror, they send you to find the baby. It wouldn’t take much asking around. Bethlehem is small, labor is loud, and the unwed and shunned teen mom forced to give birth in a barn would be the talk of the town. You round the corner, and there they are: a frustrated construction worker unable to provide better for his bride-to-be, an exhausted girl, and a baby: tiny, bloody, bundled in rags against the cold. 

Improbable as it seems, that unremarkable sight is the root of many of your struggles and discontents today. That tiny child – the incarnation of God Himself – is the beginning of the end for the old world, and the seed of a new world that is even now being born – and birth is a messy, painful process. “Every warrior’s sandal from the noisy battle, and the garments rolled in blood will be fuel for the fire, for unto us a child is born; unto us a Son is given.” This year, let’s reckon with the costs of Christmas.

The most important thing about the Advent wreath is the unlit candles standing in mute testimony that the object of our longing has not yet arrived. One by one, we light them, until finally, here we are. Christmas is far too important to confine to one day, but we’ll talk about that tomorrow. 

Today is a day of raucous celebration: plentiful meals, special treats of food and drink, relaxation and play, watching the delight in children’s eyes. All these things are gifts from a good God – feast on them by faith, in your hearts, with thanksgiving. Tomorrow we contemplate; today, we taste and see that the Lord is good!