Birthquake

A Sermon Preached by

The Rev. Paul Debenport

December 20, 2009

Hear the Word of God from Luke 2: 14:

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.  Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.  But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people:  to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.  This will be a sign for you:  you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.”  And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest heaven and on earth peace

among those whom God favors!”

The Word of the Lord.

Thanks be to God.

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“Let all mortal flesh keep silence…

And with fear and trembling stand….

Fear and trembling?  What does that have to do with Christmas?  Isn’t Christmas supposed to be just ‘Ho-ho-ho” and “Joy to the World???”  Well, no; not just, anyway, for if we leave the fear of it all out, we rob the real joy of Christmas of its God-solid base, its anchor, which is in the sovereign awesomeness of God Almighty.

In scripture, human fear is an essential part of almost every encounter with the holy.  Zechariah, Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds, all respond with fear.  Graciously, God’s messengers immediately calm them, saying, “Fear not.”  I still love the King James translation here, which says the shepherds were “sore afraid”—painfully afraid—struck dumb in the light of the holy.  God’s truth is that fear is a normal, necessary, and even a good part of Christmas. 

Why?  Why was their response “fear and trembling?”  Because they were immediately aware that they were caught up in a dangerous intersection, the place where “the transcendent” intersects with “the immanent’—the very meeting place of heaven and earth, the Holy and the “un-holy.”  Like an earthquake where two colossal tectonic plates push against each other, this “birthquake” of Jesus’ coming is the collision of that which is immortal, totally other, totally pure, totally God becomes totally human and confronts them all, and us all, all mortal flesh.  No wonder “shepherds quake”, as Silent Night puts it.  No wonder initially they were all “sore afraid,” speechless, and silent as night.

Have you ever experienced something so grand, so overwhelming, that you were filled with holy awe?  Falling in love can be like that, mixing fear and joy, as can our response to God’s immensely glorious creation.  I still remember seeing the Grand Canyon at age 12 and experiencing such an intense range of feelings that I simultaneously both wanted to burst into “How Great Thou Art” and shrink back in fear of being swallowed up—“sore afraid.” 

Of course, perceiving the holiness of God can happen in corporate worship, as it did for some in our powerful Advent music last Sunday, as well as at our poignant and moving service of Lamentation and Light for those who have experienced deep loss.

But too often, especially in the wider culture’s Christmas rituals, few are ever moved to be “sore afraid” these days; too few proclaim the Christmas news that heaven and earth collide in the birth of the Christ.  Do we just sing of the birth, not of the “birthquake?”  Have we so tamed the magnificent awe of the Holy God of all that was and is and shall be that we no longer experience the profound fear and wonder of immortal god made mortal flesh?  Those rumbling, low notes of the organ that James played with the hymn at least begins to get at the depth of it all.  Indeed, “let all mortal flesh keep silence and with fear and trembling stand….” 

Holy awe is what I’m trying to talk about here.  But the contemporary use of the word “awesome” has watered down it’s meaning so much, that I’ll come at it by saying what this kind of holy fear is not.  It’s not the kind of manipulated, abusive “fire and brimstone” fear that some preachers and some theologies inflict on people.  In no way am I trying to do that today, or any day.

But I am trying to make an important correction in our understanding of the fear of the Lord, for one common reaction to the wrong, abusive of fear in religion has been to try to scale down the awe-filled mystery of the holy, making God and God’s incarnation in Jesus “too light a thing.”

Yes, God has come and comes close to us in Christ.  Yes, God cares for us as completely and as carefully as a loving parent.  Yes, Christ came to us as a vulnerable Child so as not to overwhelm us.  But in our eagerness to make God’s approachability known, we must never lose our astonishment, our wonder, our Holy awe, at the miracle of the great and wondrous God almighty, the creator and ruler of the universe, has come close and personal in the person of Jesus Christ.  When we do get a glimpse of God and open ourselves to the transcendent, sovereign otherness of God, like the shepherds and the others before us, of course we, too, will be “sore afraid,” with is both appropriate and good, because God is God, and nothing less.  Because God’s power uncovers our weakness, God’s holiness reveals our un-holiness; God’s selfless, sacrificial love in Jesus Christ exposes our selfishness; God’s immortality underscores our mortality.  All of which are necessary for us to know that we can then be truly filled with wonder and profound joy at God’s willingness to come close and personal to us not with anger or malice, but with the saving goodness and loving grace that Christ’s reveals.

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Let me try one more way of getting at this, through the words and images of C.S. Lewis’s wonderful, yet profound The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.  In it, Lewis describes the first time the children in the story hear about Aslan, the Lion—who is the God/Christ image.  Lewis writes:

 “Is Aslan a man?” asked Lucy. “Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly.  “Certainly not!  I tell you he is the King.  Aslan is a Lion—the Lion, the great Lion.”  “Ooh! said Susan.  “Is he—quite safe?  I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”  “That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver.  “If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking…they’re just silly.”  “Then he isn’t safe? asked Lucy.  “Safe? said Mr. Beaver, “Who said anything about safe?  ‘Course he isn’t safe.  But he is good.  He’s the King, I tell you…and he is good.” _{[Puffin Press, 1950, p. 75]}

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The good news of a great joy here is that Almighty God is not to be domesticated.  God is the King, the King of Kings, the Lord of Lord, Holy, Pure, and…Good, full of Grace and Truth.  And when we perceive this truth, we at least begin to comprehend the magnitude of the angels’ proclamation to us:  “Fear not!”  Fear not because this transcendent God that fills us with holy awe and disrupts our apathy, this God comes to us as Savior, “with blessings in His hands,” as the hymn puts it.     

In the birthquake of Jesus Christ—from the manger to the empty cross—God entered into the pain and brokenness of the World for one reason and one reason only:  to save, to be savior.  His birthquake proclaims that the Holy, Sovereign God is passionately in love with this world and its peoples—in love with you, with me, with humankind—and that this love is strong enough, bold enough, and holy enough for us to trust and t trust completely now and forever.

God is not safe; but God is good.  Thank God!  For a God too small to fear is God too weak to trust.  And the God revealed in the birthquake of Jesus Christ is more than holy enough to conquer all evil, even death; to forgive all, and to save all.  Christmas proclaims that the incredible, transcendent power-beyond-understanding is at the heart of things and has chosen to become Emmanuel, God with us, God for us proclaiming and showing with his Son’s life that God is good.  Therefore:  “Fear not, for I bring you good tiding of great joy,

 a savior,( the savior), Christ the Lord!”

Thanks be to God.

Amen.