By Dr. Jay Richard Akkerman
As a pastor, leading Christmas Eve services has always been a privilege for me. Early in my ministry, Kim and I told our families that they were always welcome to visit us for Christmas, but that we wouldn’t be traveling home to them during this season of the year. After all, I was a pastor—and if our church’s once-a-year Christmas guests could make it to church, shouldn’t I be there to welcome them?!?
My last pastorate in Phoenix holds a particularly significant Christmas Eve memory for me…
First, let’s be honest: after preaching for a while, it can seem very challenging to proclaim the Christmas story in a fresh, compelling way each year. Over time, I must admit that I attempted to preach the Nativity from nearly every vantage point: from Mary and Joseph to the shepherds and Magi. Once in desperation, I think I was even tempted to preach from the perspective of the cattle, sheep and oxen in the manger!
Finally one year, I had a brainstorm. Because we were blessed to have many great kids in our congregation, I asked for a favor from a couple in our church. Both of them were elementary school teachers and they were conscientious parents who lovingly taught their children. If memory serves, their daughter Keelan was in the first grade that December. Keelan was a very bright little girl, and her reading skills were amazing.
So that year, her parents worked with Keelan in preparing her to read the first twenty verses of the second chapter of Luke’s gospel. To underscore the rhythmic telling of the story, I had Keelan read from the New King James Version. Through her young, quiet articulation, Keelan absolutely nailed the reading—she even pronouced “Quirinius” perfectly! Linus Van Pelt from “A Charlie Brown Christmas” couldn’t hold a candle to Keelan that night.
I was supposed to be up next. But halfway through Keelan’s reading, the Spirit overwhelmed me with the beautiful power of that simple-yet-complex story told of the birth of a fragile newborn through the voice of a six year-old girl.
Even after all these years, I think I can still hear Keelan’s small, solitary voice reading out with such clarity into the darkness:
Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger…
Fear not. Good tidings. Great joy. To all people.
Born this day, in a nondescript corner of the world: a Savior.
The sign: of all things, a baby, swaddled in cloths, and lying in—imagine it!—a grimy cattle trough as his makeshift crib.
That Christmas Eve, before I could ever even hope to squeak out a word of my message, the gospel was already proclaimed. I tossed my sermon notes, recognizing how far they fell short, gibberish in comparison.
There is something incredibly powerful about the beautifully simple nature of this great news. The Son of God, Lord of the universe, sleeping vulnerably in a ramshackle barn. God is with us. Fear not!
Our word “Nativity” means the occasion of one’s birth. But it’s not only Jesus’ birth. Fortunately, the Christmas story offers us all with an opportunity for new birth, for our own nativity.
My pastor friends, may the Spirit’s one small voice compellingly point you back to the miracle of God’s upside-down kingdom, where the vastness of the Creator was molded in the form of a sleeping infant with ten tiny fingers and toes.
May that first Nativity offer you the gift once more of your own nativity. Fear not! God is with us—most typically in small and surprising ways that make our most profound sentences sound like gibberish. And as the still, small voice of the Spirit speaks this season, may we all embrace new birth, even in the seemingly makeshift, even grimy corners of our lives.
Good tidings. Great joy. To all people—including you. Merry Christmas, my friend.
