Past Sermon

Sermon Title: "God So Loved the World "
Date: December 24, 2006
Minister: Rev. Charles E. Ensley, Jr.

Lesson:  John 1:1-14

This past fall, as we were in the process of hiring Julie Ramsey as our new Director of Music, I noted on her resume—among her many other musical responsibilities—that she lectures at Cal State, Long Beach on choral repertoire, choral organization and rehearsal techniques.  I saw that in action early one Sunday a month ago.

The choir was up here rehearsing before worship.  I had stepped up to the pulpit to place my sermon here just as I heard Julie tell the choir this in reference to the anthem they were rehearsing:  “God loved the world.  We all know that; God created the world.  But God so loved the world that he gave his only Son.  Without his birth and his crucifixion, there would be no resurrection.”

A few weeks later, as I was pondering what to preach on this morning of December 24, Julie’s words, and her emphasis, came back to me.  We’re not just celebrating a baby boy named Jesus being born tonight.  We’re remembering that God so loved the world that God chose to enter time in the human flesh and blood form of a first century Palestinian Jew, and thus to experience life with all its ups and downs, joys and sorrows.  And what a difference that intrusion into human affairs has made.

Each year at this time, one or more of the major news magazines publishes a special issue featuring some aspect of the Christmas story.  This year, Newsweek’s theme was how first century Jewish family values shaped Christianity.

Religion reporter Lisa Miller writes:  “As the world’s 2 billion Christians prepare to commemorate the birth of the figure they believe to be the Son of God, it is important to note that Christianity’s origins lie more in the image of the empty tomb on the Sunday after the crucifixion than they do at the crèche.  It was their fervent belief in the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth that convinced his followers he was … ‘the Christ, the son of the living God’ who had told them of a new way of salvation:  that he would die and rise again, thus effecting the forgiveness of sins and offering a portal to eternal life.

“But,” she continues, “whatever one’s personal beliefs, no student of religion or culture should overlook the significance of the Nativity, for the milieu into which Jesus was born—and in which he was raised—has fundamentally shaped the manners and morals of the ensuing two millennia.  The Jewish family values that were prevalent in first-century Judea—the values of Mary and Joseph and of the young Jesus—became the values of Christianity, and of the regions of the world in which Christianity has long been a critical force.”  (Newsweek, Dec. 18, 2006, p. 54)

Imagine:  God so loved the world that he came to us in human form, and that one life has altered the world’s understanding of family life wherever Christianity is known.

About 30 years ago a boy named Tony was born blind.  However, when he was about seven years old, his doctor read in the New England Journal of Medicine of a new surgical procedure that showed some promise for correcting his particular eye problem.  A young surgeon at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston had developed it and so the local doctor and the surgeon began communicating.  The boy’s full medical record was sent and in time a decision was made to try the surgery.

Tony, the boy, had a favorite teddy bear which he kept with him at all times.  This teddy bear had begun to show signs of wear.  One eye was missing; one ear was chewed off; and the stuffing was oozing out through several holes.  Tony’s mother had offered to buy him a new bear, but he didn’t want a new one.  So, the old one went with him to Boston and remained close through all the x-rays, tests and consultations.  In fact, the boy and his teddy bear were not separated until the anesthesia was administered for the surgery itself.

When the surgery was completed, Tony was heavily bandaged and had to remain still for a number of days.  But each day the surgeon was in and out of the room to encourage him.

Finally the day came for removing the bandages.  For the first time in seven years Tony could see.  Though his vision was blurred at first, it gradually clarified and for the first time Tony could look into the faces of his parents.

Before long it was time for Tony to be discharged and to go home.  On that final morning, the surgeon signed the necessary discharge papers and he gave Tony a big hug and said, “Listen, I own stock in you.  I expect to get letters from you regularly.  Do you understand?”

Then Tony did something totally unexpected.  He said to his surgeon friend, “I want you to have this,” and he handed him his teddy bear.  The surgeon’s first impulse was to say, “Oh no, I can’t take that.”  But something stopped him.  With a flash of sensitive genius, the surgeon understood what Tony was trying to do.  He wanted to give his dear surgeon-friend the most precious gift at his disposal, so full was his heart with love.  The wise surgeon accepted the teddy bear with a hug and a thank you, assuring Tony that he would take mighty good care of his friend.

For over 10 years that teddy bear sat in a glass case on the 10th floor of Massachusetts General Hospital — one eye missing, one ear half-chewed off, and stuffing oozing out of several holes.  In front of the teddy bear was the surgeon’s card and just beneath his name he had written this caption:  “This is the highest fee I have ever received for professional services rendered.”  A little boy had given the most precious item he had, out of a love-filled heart.  (Gregory A. W. Green, “All That Glitters,” December 25, 2005. firstpres-charlotte.org/sermons. Story attributed to Bill Bouknight.)

Imagine:  someone giving up something they loved so much out of gratitude, or as a gift to another.

When I was 10 or 12 years old, listening until midnight on December 25 to the 24 hours of continuous Christmas music that the now defunct AM station KPOL played, there would occasionally come through the speaker the majestic and mellifluous voice of Reginald Owen, reciting this essay I have not heard in several decades:

“He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman.  He grew up in still another village where He worked in a carpenter’s shop until He was thirty.  Then for three years He traveled and preached.  He never wrote a book.  He never held an office.  He never had a family or owned a house.  He did not go to college.  He never visited a big city.  He never traveled more than two hundred miles from the place where He was born.

“He did none of the things man usually associates with greatness.  He had no credentials but Himself.  He was only thirty-three when the tide of public opinion turned against Him.  His friends ran away.  He was turned over to His enemies and went through the mockery of a trial.  He was nailed to a stake between two thieves.  While He was dying, His executioners gambled for His clothing, the only property He had on earth.

"When He was dead, He was laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.  Twenty centuries have come and gone and today He remains the central figure of the human race and the leader of mankind’s progress.

“All the armies that ever marched, all the fleets that ever sailed, all the parliaments that ever sat, all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of men on this planet so much as that One Solitary Life.”  (Attributed to James Allan Francis, D.D. [1864-1928]; originally published 1928.)

This, then, is the miracle of Christmas.  Two thousand years ago our gracious God, with a heart filled with love, looked out upon a sin-marred, tear-stained world.  Had you and I been in charge we might have destroyed the whole mess and started over.  But God’s great heart was too full of love to allow that.  So God gave us the most precious gift at his disposal; he gave himself.  “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”  (John 3:16)