It’s funny because Linus makes the grave reading of Luke 2 for Charlie Brown and says, “That’s what it’s all about, Charlie Brown,” and we feel like something really important® has been said by Dollie Madison cakes and Coca-Cola. But Luke 2 isn’t in a vacuum. The matter of what happened on the night in question in the city of David when there was no room in the inn is not really about anything – unless there is something more to this child than a birth in poverty into an indifferent world.

I want you to think about something with me as we close this up. This matter of “God with us” is certainly a reason to rejoice – but in the same way that we have a different kind of party when someone retires than when someone has a birthday, the kind of rejoicing we ought to be doing is based on the kind of joy we are receiving or recognizing.

“The Savior—yes, the Messiah, the Lord—has been born today in Bethlehem, the city of David!”, the angels said. Savior, Messiah, Lord.

You know, my wife doesn’t really understand my passion for Christmas because she is convinced that I am crazy – too involved in the matter of God (who deserves to be worshipped as three-times-Holy by these guys who are made out of fire and sing with a voice that puts guys like Isaiah and Elijah into fits of fear) being born as a baby so that my sins can be forgiven rather than counted against me as the kind of disobedience that it is. But when I read this story, I see the matter as one of a love which makes even my love for my children or my wife look somewhat tawdry and cheap. The humility of Christ makes me look worse.

Now, I could say, “it makes you look worse,” but you know what? That’s up to you to figure out. What makes Christmas an overwhelming occasion of joy is the contrast between this God Messiah Lord who will be born in blood, and filth, and be laid in a feeding trough when He deserves to have the astounding glory of Heaven holding Him, and me – the stupid little punk with a blog who cannot even love his family as he ought to. It is not just the glory of Christ which brings joy on Christmas: it is the glory of Christ overcoming the stupid little punk with a blog who cannot even love his family as he ought.

This is why keeping the wrath of God clearly in our minds is necessary at Christmas, and it defines the kind of rejoicing we ought to be doing. The kind of joy we can receive and we ought to receive in this season is the joy of God being with us – not as a pal, not as a chummy and chubby baby, not as a confidante, not as someone who merely suffers with us, but as Incarnate God who deserves our worship and our obedience.

The Gospel that Christ died for our sins in accordance with Scripture is not different at Christmas: it is utterly the point at Christmas. It is the moment when all the details of the Gospel are so vivid and demanding that if we only glance at them and then clean up all the wrapping paper, we have done harm to our own faith and to our love of God. Christmas says that the world is different now – and we are supposed to be different people because of it.

That’s not a lump of coal: that’s a clear, white diamond. And it’s not what you asked for: it is far more than you deserve. As you have 7 more shopping days until Christmas, remember that, and do more than omplian or worse — be neutral. Do something worthy of this baby who allowed Himself to be born in a manger, but for whom the angels could not help but sing – because He is here with us to bring peace on Earth, and good will to those on whom His favor rests: we should treat Him as our beloved, because that is how He has treated us.

Now, the question is: is that enough? That is, if we understand that what we deserve is God’s wrath and what we get is God’s savior, can we now have some ham and some applesauce and some casserole and maybe (in presbyterian and Lutheran homes, of course) a glass of wine, a decent night’s sleep, and then open the presents on Christmas morn after an appropriately-solemn reading of Luke 2? I mean, seriously: enough’s enough.

Listen: Christmas is not about a logical argument, an intellectual affirmation, and then a secular session of either greed or idolatry (or maybe both). Christmas is about God with us.

When the Jews had the Temple, God’s wasn’t “with us”: He was nearby, to be sure, but He was separated ritually and physically from the people. He had a covenant with the Jews, and He gave them the means to sort of “pay up” or “make up” the ways in which they broke the covenant, but here’s what He says about that:

For I desire mercy, not sacrifice,
and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings.

Two little lines in the book of Hosea — a book in which God says that the right way to see the relationship between Israel (the chosen nation) and God is that God is a faithful husband and Israel is a wife who prefers the life of a prostitute to the life of fidelity. But Hosea has to go and buy his wife back out of prostitution to make himself like God in this object lesson prophecy.

The obvious application is that God is coming back for us when we don’t deserve it — you’ve all heard that one, I am sure. But look: when God is spelling it out for Israel in Hosea 6:6, God is saying, “You know: I don’t want you just to think about what I have done this for you, I want you to acknowledge that I have done this for you and act like I am real to you.”

I think that’s a little dazzling, frankly. God doesn’t want to just save us: God wants us to act like a wife bought out of prostitution.

We don’t have to be people who are in it for the money anymore — because the price for us has been paid forever. We don’t have to work off our debt. Now, that sounds like standard christianese, I am sure — and the best way to overcome that is to describe for you in detail what the life of a protitute is like. However, homeschool moms are reading this, and they would probably find that a little much — and they might be right. I’ll sum it up in a sentence: imagine a life in which your own body is not safe from the demands and impulses of others who care nothing about you. If you were stuck in a life where you don’t even own your own body, or have a right to your own flesh, how would you act toward the person who paid the price for your body and set you free from that kind of slavery?

That’s the razor’s edge at Christmas: it’s the place where mental assent doesn’t cut it. We can’t just agree that these things are true for us in some religious metaphor, or maybe in some metaphysical transaction. We have to be in love with the one who has actually done this for us. We have to live as if God is with us. God doesn’t want us to go and offer a dove or a lamb or a bull in the temple: God wants us to love Him above all things because He deserves to be loved above all things. And He should get it right now because He is worthy of it right now — in the same way you love your own spouse right now personally, passionately, and somewhat impulsively.

This Christmas thing — it shouldn’t be about an idea of God: It should be about God. In person. Here with us.

When we prepare for Christmas, we ought to be loving God in a real way — because He is saving us in a real way, and He is here with us. Welcome Him into your family and life as if He was your beloved husband and deliverer from slavery.

Yeah, the comments are of course all going south, too, with people thinking that I’m not a cheery person and that I want to abolish the gingerbread and the mistletoe. On Earth, peace to men on whom His favor rests, Frank: It’s a Wonderful Life! Don’t write this 6-part thing on Christmas with all your dour Calvinism bringing the rest of us down.

Let me say, as I write this part, that this was not my point at all — it was only the basis for making my point. So let’s think about this for one second: the purpose of most of the Bible is to tell us that the wrath of God is just around the corner, and in that context this child named Jesus is born in Bethlehem — on that day, a Savior was born.

The basis for any joy at Christmas is that Jesus is a savior. You know — he wasn’t a fireman. He wasn’t a cop, or an EMT — and those are pretty good things. Those people do, in fact, save other people. But I can’t remember the last time I heard someone say that a doctor or a soldier was a savior.

See: it’s important to realize that the first reason anyone was happy about a Messiah coming was the fact that he would save his people from their sins. He wouldn’t make their salvation possible: He would save them — they would be saved after He did whatever it was that He was going to do.

When Jesus was presented in the Temple like every good Jewish boy was presented, this is what happened:

[Luke 2] Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. And he came in the Spirit into the temple, and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the Law, he took him up in his arms and blessed God and said,

"Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation
that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and for glory to your people Israel."

Simeon was glad to see salvation in the child. Not just optimism, not just a leg-up for man to God: salvation. God’s wrath — it was coming, and frankly, it is in fact coming. God’s wrath is coming. And Jesus is the savior from that wrath. So at Christmas, we have the “light of revelation” (as Simeon said) that God is going to save from the wrath that is coming — and maybe, if you are a Christian, you are happy about that. And that is good … as far as it goes.

But I have a question for you: is that enough? Seriously now — is that as happy and joyous as God wants us to be at Christmas? Is that all the Gospel there is? I mean, if it is enough, great. Let’s be happy with what we have.

But I know for certain that this is not all of the good tidings of great joy that the Angels have delivered to Shepherds. And I am afraid that many of us — maybe most of us — are ready to settle for only that much of the joy that is evident in the face of the wrath of God.

The wrath of God is coming, and the savior from sin is born in Bethlehem. Is that all we have, or is there more evident and necessary in the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes? I think there’s more — and Christians must seek that joy if they are to take this holy celebration for more than a day we have family over for a meal and a prayer.

But what happens at Christmas happens exactly because we don’t deserve a break. What we deserve is, frankly, the wrath of God. That’s why Malachi gave that warning when he was closing up the Prophetic shop of the Old Testament – that’s what we deserve. That’s why, 400 years later, John is in the Wilderness in the spirit and power of Elijah demanding that we make a straight path for God, and that we repent from sin.

It’s because the King is coming. See: the King is coming here. If your football buddy is coming to dinner, you clean the house up a little – but what if the Governor of your state was coming to dinner? You’d probably get some help to clean up, wouldn’t you? You’d recruit people to make sure your lawn wasn’t a disgrace, and your whole house – from linen closet to kitchen sink – would be ready for him to come. You’d do something extra because the Governor is important.

But John was saying, “Listen: the King of Everything is coming – His Kingdom is at hand. Get ready because the King is coming and things should be set right for His sake.” And what people did, when they heard this message, was repent.

Isn’t that crazy? You’d think that if God the covenant-keeper, God the friend of Abraham, was coming to Israel, they’d set up a party and pull out the stops. It ought to be a moment of history when people – especially Israel – are dancing in the streets and having a tail-gate. But these people heard John and they wanted to repent of their sin.

If you don’t understand why, let me explain it to you. Or rather, let’s let Jesus explain what the Kingdom of God is like:

[Luke 19] … they supposed that the kingdom of God was to appear immediately. He said therefore, “A nobleman went into a far country to receive for himself a kingdom and then return. Calling ten of his servants, he gave them ten minas, and said to them, ‘Engage in business until I come.’ But his citizens hated him and sent a delegation after him, saying, ‘We do not want this man to reign over us.’

When he returned, having received the kingdom, he ordered these servants to whom he had given the money to be called to him, that he might know what they had gained by doing business. The first came before him, saying, ‘Lord, your mina has made ten minas more.’ And he said to him, ‘Well done, good servant! Because you have been faithful in a very little, you shall have authority over ten cities.’ And the second came, saying, ‘Lord, your mina has made five minas.’ And he said to him, ‘And you are to be over five cities.’

Then another came, saying, ‘Lord, here is your mina, which I kept laid away in a handkerchief; for I was afraid of you, because you are a severe man. You take what you did not deposit, and reap what you did not sow.’

Now, before we finish this story up, think about this: the third servant feared his master enough to hide the small treasure he was given. But the others have returned the gift to their master greater still. Now: is it because they didn’t fear him, or is it because they appreciated the kind of gift they were given? Let’s see what the severe master says about that:

He said to him, ‘I will condemn you with your own words, you wicked servant! You knew that I was a severe man, taking what I did not deposit and reaping what I did not sow? Why then did you not put my money in the bank, and at my coming I might have collected it with interest?’ And he said to those who stood by, ‘Take the mina from him, and give it to the one who has the ten minas.’

And they said to him, ‘Lord, he has ten minas!’

‘I tell you that to everyone who has, more will be given, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. But as for these enemies of mine, who did not want me to reign over them, bring them here and slaughter them before me.‘”

So the severe master thought that if he gave something to a servant, the servant ought to do something with it. But notice that the master doesn’t say, “no, I’m not a severe master – please forgive me for making you think I was a bad guy.” He said, “You’re right – and because you’re a lazy and wicked servant, I’m going to show you have severe I am.”

Listen: the Kingdom of God is not going to be about a lot of plush animals getting handed around to be hugged so we can feel better. It’s going to be about a judgment which leaves the enemies of the King slaughtered – not merely by some act of war, but as an act of noble justice and holiness because He commanded it. His enemies will be at His feet, and He will deal with them severely.

And the one who’s going to do this – He came born in a stable, and sent His messengers not to the castles or the palaces or the Senates of His day, but to a few Shepherds who had enough good sense to be afraid of what they heard and saw, and then do something about it.

They were afraid of the wrath of God. The people John baptized were afraid of God’s wrath. You should think about whether or not you are afraid of God’s wrath. Because if you are not, you don’t really know why we can enjoy Christmas after all.

Listen: there’s no question that the angels gave up a “Joy to the World! And Heaven and nature Sings!” to the Shepherds. No question. The matter is whether they were celebrating some sugar-and-cinnamon baked goods, or if they were celebrating something which requires a host angels — creatures the Bible calls “as a flame of fire” which are ministers to God — singing in a way which brings fear into the hearts of the first-century equivalent of cattle-herding cowboys.

There is joy at Christmas – holy, beautiful joy which ought to blow our pride and our smallness to pieces, and make us, as Paul wrote, even in a severe test of affliction coupled with extreme poverty, overflowing with a wealth of generosity. We ought to be people who are crazy about giving to others because of what we celebrate at Christmas.

But hear me: the joy comes not from mere emotional inflation, or from having a nice Christmas goose, or from having family together, or God forbid that is comes from being wealthy and warm. The joy comes from the fact that whatever happened on that silent night, it happened in the face of, and as a herald of, and as a direct purpose of the wrath of God.

If there is no wrath of God – if God is, Himself, (if you will excuse me for saying it) a jolly fat man with a sack of goodies He brings in a sort of random and sentimental way – then why ought we to have joy at Christmas? What is a “Merry Christmas” unless we understand that manger – that feeding trough which earlier in the day held dirty straw and cattle spittle, but now holds this child who draws men from the East with riches and hearts ready to worship – as the place where there is an answer to the problem man has in the face of the wrath of God?

The joy at Christmas is only as great as the wrath of God which is about to be laid out. It is not because we got something we didn’t expect: it is because, in this child — who ought to have his enemies as a footstool and the Earth as His throne, but who is instead obedient and willing to be born in the midst of barnyard smells and the flies — we receive something we could not, and can not, and did not, and do not, deserve.

I’m going to try something different this year, and I hope you’re ready to come with me. We’re going to start in Malachi:

Then those who feared the LORD spoke with one another. The LORD paid attention and heard them, and a book of remembrance was written before him of those who feared the LORD and esteemed his name. “They shall be mine, says the LORD of hosts, in the day when I make up my treasured possession, and I will spare them as a man spares his son who serves him. Then once more you shall see the distinction between the righteous and the wicked, between one who serves God and one who does not serve him.

“For behold, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble. The day that is coming shall set them ablaze, says the LORD of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall. And you shall tread down the wicked, for they will be ashes under the soles of your feet, on the day when I act, says the LORD of hosts.

“Remember the law of my servant Moses, the statutes and rules that I commanded him at Horeb for all Israel.

“Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the LORD comes. And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers, lest I come and strike the land with a decree of utter destruction.” [ESV]

Those are the last words from the Old Testament – the last part of the book of Malachi, and the last words God spoke to the nation Israel for 400 years. It doesn’t sound like God was getting ready to make any cookies to me – it sounds like God is spelling it out for Israel:

My wrath is coming.

“The day that is coming shall set them ablaze.” That’s not very holly-jolly, is it? I mean – what kind of person can have Christmas when what God’s last words before a 400-year silence prior to Christ’s birth say explicitly that He’s getting ready to burn evildoers up like what’s left over after a harvest?

“It will leave them neither root nor branch.” See: He’s not saying, “I’m going to purify you with fire,” but “I’m going to make sure there’s nothing left of you by means of fire.” “You” who are arrogant and do evil; “you” who are not my treasured possessions; “you” who are not my sons who serve me; “you” who are wicked and do not serve God. There’s a fire coming for you, and it’s going to leave nothing behind.

That’s a little dark, isn’t it? I mean – this is God saying He’s going to take evil out for good is a way that isn’t like taking the kinks out of a stiff neck, but in a way like Chemotherapy. He’s going to burn evildoers up. How is that a preparation for Christmas?

Seriously: this is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, isn’t it? We have partitioned it off, and we have made a lot of happy elves and angels and smiley snowmen, and of course the jolly Fat Man, and we have a lot of songs which everyone sings about this time of year. And we have white snow and sweet candy and the smell of pine or fur or holly in our homes, and heaps of presents – who doesn’t like presents, even if it’s just a fruit cake from a friend from college we haven’t seen in 20 years? We have made this time of year completely insulated from who we are the rest of the year. God doesn’t do that.

Before God in the Bible tells us about Christmas – about premier noël, the first time there was a day in history we could talk about the person of Christ – God says, “Listen to me: my wrath is on-tap. And it’s not like a fire hose on a dirty street: it’s like a forest fire that burns everything to the dirt. It’s like an atom bomb. If you are caught in it, there’s nothing you can do but be swallowed up. Either your hearts are going to be turned to me, or else I am going to decree utter destruction.” That is, “I haven’t forgotten who you are, kids. And I haven’t forgotten what I have promised to do. But I haven’t forgotten who I am.”

Christmas is coming, but the way the Bible tells it, maybe we ought to have a little bit more concern about who this child in the manger is – because if he’s related to this God in Malachi, the rest of us are in pretty dire straights.