A sermon by Canon Maggie Guite
Christmas Midnight 2015 Linton
And 8 am
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Hebrews 1.1-4
John 1.1-14
Grace and Truth in Jesus
At the beginning of this service I said, ‘Welcome to St
Mary’s’. I’d liketo repeat that welcome now – and say
‘Welcome to your church’. If you live in Linton, this church
belongs to you –it’s your parish church, built hundreds of
years ago for you. And if you’re here as a visitor to Linton,
tonight it’s your church, too – it’s here for you. It doesn’t
belong to me, the Rector, or to the Bishop, or to the
normal members of the Sunday congregation – or not to us
alone. It belongs to everybody here. So, I hope you feel at
home –in the right place at the right time, and many of you
accompanied by people you love.
But beyond and behind all that, there’s another truth. This
is God’s church – ‘God’s house’, people used to call it,
though not so much nowadays. But it was built long ago by
the people of Linton, for the people of Linton – yet above
all, , for God. So – a big welcome to St Mary’s, your church
– God’s church. A big welcome from me and from
everyone who’s worked to make this service beautiful; but
mostof all, there’s a big welcome, to all of us, from God.
At the first Christmas the shepherds, we’re told, came
crowding in to find Jesus in the stable. God had made
himself too small, in Jesus, to say words of welcome
himself , so he had to rely on Mary and Joseph – tired as
they were – to open the door and say ‘Come in, you’re
welcome’; so they came in, in their smelly working-clothes,
and peered into the manger. What graciousness it must
have taken from Mary and Joseph at this intimate time, so
soon after the birth, to say ‘yes’ to these strange visitors.
And then there were more, and stranger ones to come later
– visitors from afar, who spoke a strange language, had
strange customs and beliefs, and had strange tales to tell of
following a star.
‘Come in, you’re welcome’ – where Jesus is, there is God’s
house, and – as he was to teach later inhis earthly life, in
God’s house there are rooms for all. Come because you’re
coming out of the darkness to look for the light; come
because you’re looking for what you really need – and what
you really need is here. This is what Jesus was saying
wordlessly – he being in his infancy, as one old writer put it,
‘the Word without a word’. The baby Jesus simply
embodied in himself the welcome of God, by making
himself approachable and unthreatening – so easy to love
(as all babies are) –and even to get a bit sentimental over.
And yet here is the source of the universe, the Word
through whom all things were created, and by whom all
things are sustained – someone, or something, worthy of
the greatest awe (the kind of wonder that makes you catch
your breath ), and yet able to be picked up and put down
again; milky and sleepy, so small, so fragile. ‘Come, you are
welcome’ – this is the grace and graciousness of God.
embodied in this baby. And welcoming grace like that,
which makes us at home with him, with ourselves, and
with each other, is one of the things we desperately need. St
Paul once wrote that ‘The Son of God , Jesus Christ….ws not
‘yes and ‘no’, but in him it is always ‘Yes’. (2 Corinthinas 1.19).
How much we all need that big ’Yes’ in our lives - we ‘re
looking for that whenever we look for love; but sometimes
human love in this life lets us down, (for some people very
badly). But in Jesus the ‘yes’ of love is unshakeable and
always unspoilt.
So ,this is grace – God’s graciousness – the ‘yes’ and
welcome of love which we all so badly need – and which ,
of course,the whole world needs. Jesus was born to
embody grace – but also something else, which we also
desperately need.
He came among us ,a s our Gospel reading said, full of grace
and truth’ (John 1.14). Truth as mentioned here is the light by
which we see, and the wisdom we need to live by. It’s
something much more than mere facts.
But sometimes we shy away from truth – just as, sadly,
sometimes we shy away from love. After all, truth searches
us, and there are things about ourselves we’d rather not
have known. That’s the case for me as it may be for you,
or anyone here – or for anyone in the whole world. St John
tells us that later in his earthly life Jesus was to talk about
people preferring darkness to light, because their deeds
were evil. And it’s a fact - people sometimes deliberately
turn their back on the truth he brings because it shows
them up.
We may not think of ourselves as people who do evil deeds,
but I dare say we know the experience of coming close to
someone who loves us, someone who wants unreservedly
to be with us – and wondering deep inside whether we’re
really worthy of it. Could this be why some people weep at
their weddings? How could something as wonderful as this
love have happened to me, they feel? And, if the pledge of
all-too-human love can make us feel like that, how much
more the love of God? For the truth which Jesus embodied
tells us of grace and welcome – yes – but it also says to us
something about being unworthy. I wonder how many of
the people who gathered round the manger asked
themselves ‘Why should I be here? Why should this wonder
which has broken in on the world have reached out to me in
particular? After all, I know what I’m like…and it isn’t so
brilliant. So, why does he seek me out through his angels his star - this gracious welcome – and above all, through a
sense of unutterable love which brings such joy, yet
reduces me to tears?
Later in his life Jesus called some people in particular to be
very close to him – and it wasn’t long before one of them,
Peter the fisherman, fell to his knees and begged his new
and wonderful friend to go. ‘Go away from me, Lord,’, he
said, ‘for I am a sinful man!’ (Luke5 .8) Peter knew his
inadequacies all too well – and all the better for having met
Christ. .But Jesus told him not to be afraid, and to staybecause he had a purpose for him. And that is what he says
to us, today. ‘Stay with me’. He brings us grace and he
brings us truth, however uncomfortable that truth may be,
and he wants us to stay with him. And staying with him is
what we call faith. Grace and truth – they belong
inextricably together in the Christ-child of Bethlehem.
And they’re here, in this service, too, his offer to all of us,
when we’re invited to the altar to receive his welcome,
whether in the form of receiving Communion or being
given a personal blessing. This is a moment when God’s big
‘Yes’ can touch lives in something we can see and feel; the
offer and the welcome are here at Christmas – and, of
course throughout the year, too. It’s for us to say ‘Yes’ to
his ‘yes’, however hesitant we feel. Maybe we think our
faith isn’t strong enough, or there’s something wrong in our
lives that we’d rather hide from him. No matter – his grace
and his truth there for us, and his love is unshakeable.
Some of you may know a poem by George Herbert , which
I think is really about coming to communion. He wrote it
nearly four centuries ago, but I think its message is still
clear; the poem is simply called, ‘Love’, and it sums up what
I’ve been trying to say – but much more beautifully, so I’ll
use it to end with:
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lacked anything.
‘A guest,’ I answered, ‘worthy to be here.’
Love said, ‘You shall be he.’
‘I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.’
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
‘Who made the eyes but I?’
‘Truth Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.’
‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘who bore the blame?’
‘My dear, then I will serve.’
‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat:’
So I did sit and eat.