Go Tell It

Luke 2: 1 – 20 and so much more

During the season of Advent, a time when we prepare for Jesus’ birth, we here at Faith explored the story of Jesus’ coming, from the angel’s unbelievable announcement of a virgin birth to a girl named Mary, to the angel’s coaching of Joseph to do the right thing, to the holy recognition of babes in the womb when Elizabeth and Mary greet one another, each discovering the other is miraculously pregnant…

 

And most of us can, from the fiber of our being, add other details to the story – some of which you’ve heard tonight. 

 

There was an influx of country folk into Bethlehem, itself only a small-ish village, for a government mandated census, there was a shortage of space for visitors, and a baby who would wait no longer.

 

There were the shepherds watching flocks in the fields, visited by an angel and then a whole heavenly host. 

 

Yes, we know this story….because for most of us, whether we consider ourselves believers, disciples, Christians, church-goers or even just casual observers of tradition, this story is part of water that we swim in.

 

It is a story thousands of years old, embedded in global culture, taking on nuances here and there.

It is a story first told person to person. 

Then community to community. 

From generation to generation.

Then penned and deemed sacred.

 

But why? Why?

 

My first deep connection to this story as a seeker was via motherhood – this is a story about a baby – a baby that happens to be the son of God, but a baby born in a fleshy and human way. In my heart, I believe that in some way, we can all relate to the idea of a baby, even if we’ve not had our own.

 

But recently…recently the rich details of this story have crept into my heart.

 

This is a story of longing – as Elizabeth and Zechariah suffered through infertility until way past their reproductive years.

 

It is a story of confusion and hurt as Joseph learns that his future bride is already with child.

 

It is a story of vulnerability and shame turned to hope and proclamation as Mary tries to wrap her head around the idea of being pregnant in a questionable way with God’s own son.

 

When we move deeper into the story, it is one of fear and fists clenched around power as Herod learns of a promised King born nearby. 

 

It is a story of mysterious call and guidance as magi observe the night sky and navigate via the stars.

 

It is a story of scarcity and hospitality as friends and family scramble to make space, even in a cave for livestock, for distant family visitors.

 

It is a story of wonder as shepherds, often the dregs of society, find themselves called to be among the first witnesses to the birth of the messiah.

 

It is a story translated into music and words and drama and dance throughout the ages.

 

Because it is our story – it is full of us, full of the range of human experience and emotion. We find ourselves in the feelings, in the experiences, in the human grittiness and reality of this story of God. 

 

It is our story from generation to generation.

 

God with us, Emmanuel, sticks with us because God shares human experience with us in the life of Jesus. In the life of Mary. In the life of Joseph, the shepherds, the folks in Bethlehem squeezing folks into their space, the shepherds called into town, the government officials feeling insecure, a family forced to depart and take on refugee status.

 

It is our story from generation to generation.

 

And it is our story to tell…for all of those reasons, and hopefully for some reasons that are deeply personal, deeply our own.

 

This story has accompanied us and the generations before us. We have a responsibility to understand it the best we can, to see ourselves in it and to value it enough to share it. 

Generation to generation.

 

I know that the song Silent Night is an embedded part of many Christmas Eve worship traditions – but this year, I have been captivated by another – Go Tell It on the Mountain. My favorite version is recorded by James Taylor and has a modified second verse:

 

Guess I was a seeker, I sought both night and day

Asked the Lord to help me, He showed me the way

Down in the lowly manger, the humble child was born

God sent us salvation on that Christmas morn'

 

Go. Go tell it. Go tell a story that includes each of us – a story of God loving so much that he was willing to be with us in the muck and the mire, in the beauty and the ordinariness, in the highs and the lows. 

 

Go.

Go tell it. 

Today.

Tomorrow. 

Each day. 

Not just at Christmas.

In the longing, 

In the confusion and hurt,

In the vulnerability, shame, hope and proclamation,

In the insecurity and greed,

In the mysterious call and guidance,

In the scarcity and hospitality,

In the wonder 

In the moments of being alive, being human, being loved and claimed by God,

Go.

Go tell it everywhere.

 

Amen.