It All Matters

Matthew 1:18-25

December 19, 2021 • Mount Pleasant UMC

Well, this is the week. When we meet again next Sunday, all the boxes will be unwrapped, the food will be eaten and we’ll be looking forward to a brand new year. For some of you, this is “crunch week,” right? You know what I mean—you still have presents to be bought and wrapped. Some of you wait until Christmas Eve because you “do better under pressure.” You know who you are! For others, the presents were wrapped weeks ago so you could focus on other things like meal preparation and party planning. And others are just so tired of Christmas music in the stores that you’re ready for it all to be over. You will take your tree down as soon as dinner is over on Saturday with a victorious cry of “Bah, humbug!” Well, no matter where you are in your Advent journey, Christmas is almost here. To paraphrase the Grinch, it comes just the same, no matter how we feel about it. And while some of us have already had enough Christmas, in truth, for the last four weeks we’ve been in Advent, a time of preparation, not Christmas. Despite what the marketers think, the twelve days of Christmas don’t begin until Saturday. So hold on to your partridge in a pear tree; we’re almost there.

I wonder what Joseph and Mary might have been feeling at this point. Unlike us, who had only four weeks of preparation, Mary had nine months to get ready for this birth, for the first Christmas. And Joseph had—well, less time. We’re not sure exactly at what point in the pregnancy he became aware of it, but regardless I’m pretty sure he had more than four weeks. Still, as they approached Bethlehem to register for the census, neither of them had any clue that the time was so fast approaching. Oh, they knew it was close, but they had no way to see into God’s timetable to know the baby would be born this far from their home in Nazareth.

We’re not told what was on their minds and hearts as they approached Bethlehem, so I can’t help but wonder if they were remembering the things that had brought them to this moment. We have no indication that they knew or used the word “incarnation,” but they were about to experience the full meaning of that word—the word becoming flesh—and they had to be asking themselves, “How did we get here?” Or maybe, even more, “What do we do now?” I remember those last few days before our first child was born, the concern as to whether we had everything we needed, the overconfidence that says, “We’ve got this,” the fear that something might go wrong, all of the emotions on overload. And my child wasn’t the son of God! I can’t imagine what Mary and Joseph were going through as they approached the last week before the full realization of the incarnation.

We’ve been mulling over this word “incarnation” all throughout Advent this year. In some ways it’s a difficult theological idea; in other ways it’s a rather simple notion. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). The Word became flesh, real living flesh and bone, physical stuff. The eternal Word of God came down to us. We’ve been thinking about that for the last few weeks, and yet, as Bishop Will Willimon put it, ultimately “the Incarnation is not proved in complex thinking but rather in faithful living” (Incarnation, pg. 67). And so this morning, as we rush headlong toward Christmas Day, I want to consider two other implications of the incarnation, both of which point us toward faithful living at Christmas and in the year to come.

First implication: if the incarnation is true, then God can show up anywhere. In fact, if the incarnation is true, we should expect God to show up everywhere. God is not distant. Several years ago there was a popular song called, “From a Distance.” Some of you probably remember it. It went to the top of the charts when Bette Midler sang it, and the chorus went something like this: “God is watching us, God is watching us, God is watching us from a distance.” Okay, so maybe a catchy tune, but it could not be more theologically incorrect. It could not be more untrue to the Christian faith and the God we worship. God is not just watching us; he is intimately involved in our lives. And he is not at a distance. He is Immanuel—God with us. The incarnation tells us God just might show up anywhere—even, maybe, in the middle of a dream.

Our text this morning is the entirety of the nativity story as Matthew tells it. A lot of times we mix Luke’s account with Matthew’s, and while there is some warrant to do that, each of them tell a distinct story. In Luke’s Gospel, we get the whole thing from Mary’s standpoint; Joseph really doesn’t say anything. But in Matthew’s Gospel, the story focuses on Joseph and Mary is silent. Equal time, I guess. In fact, almost everything we know about Jesus’ earthly father comes from Matthew’s Gospel. He is probably named after Joseph in the Old Testament—you know, the guy who was sold into slavery by his brothers and to whom God spoke through his dreams? It’s an appropriate name, because this Joseph also seems to be someone who is more comfortable listening to God in a dream than having said angel show up in the daylight (cf. Card, Matthew: The Gospel of Identity, pg. 28). Maybe night time was the only time this Joseph slowed down and quieted down enough for him to be able to hear from God. Regardless, it’s at night, when he’s asleep and after he’s decided to end his relationship with Mary because of her pregnancy, that God shows up in his dream through the presence of an angel. Matthew simply tells us this is “an angel of the Lord,” though when we put the stories together we usually assume it’s the same angel, Gabriel, who came to Mary. But the text doesn't say that. In Matthew, it’s a nameless angel, a messenger from God with a critical message to share. God shows up when we slow down enough to listen to him.

Have you found that to be true in your life? I know I have. I think I’ve shared before how during seminary I ended up in the hospital quite unexpectedly with breathing problems related to my heart. It was rather unnerving. Scary, actually. When evening came, it got really quiet on the floor I was on. Everyone left and I was alone in my room. Except I wasn’t alone. I remember very distinctly praying and telling God how scared I was. I had known for a long time that I had a heart issue, but this was the first time I had been hospitalized for it. I prayed a lot that night—and I’m not trying to sound super-spiritual because it was, honestly, just because I was scared and there was nothing on TV. Anyway, God was very present in that hospital room—not in a blinding white light or an audible voice. God showed up by giving me a sense of his presence, a reassuring sense that everything would be okay. Not that everything would be taken away, but that whatever happened, it would be okay. God used that time when I was forced to slow down and be quiet to remind me of his presence, and he was present in a way that was undeniable. Incarnation reminds us he is Emmanuel, God with us.

One pastor tells of leading a Bible Study through the book of Leviticus. Now, I have to tell you right there—to lead a Bible Study through Leviticus takes a special kind of courage…or something! But that’s what this group was doing, and one of the group members was frustrated. “Why is God concerned about how we prepare meat, what we do with livestock, and women during their menstrual cycles? Does God have nothing better to do?” Another member of the group spoke up and said, “I loved Leviticus because of its excruciating earthiness. I’m glad God cares about what goes on in the kitchen, bedroom, and bath because that’s where most of us spend most of our time. God doesn’t just want my soul, and I don’t have to be in church to serve God. Even at the kitchen sink, God is with us” (Willimon 69). Incarnational faith says God is concerned about it all and that if God can show up as a baby in Bethlehem, he just might show up anywhere.

Second implication: if the incarnation is true, then incarnational faith is lived out in the here and now, not in the “then and there.” In other words, our faith is not just for heaven, it’s for living right now. I absolutely love the way Eugene Peterson translated the first part of Romans 12 for The Message. Here’s how it reads: “So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him.” I. love. that. Incarnational faith is not about going to heaven when we die, in the sweet by and by. It’s not about “every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings” (and don’t even get me started on the bad theology in that movie!). Certainly, eternal life is promised to all who believe but eternal life begins now. Incarnational faith is about living your faith each and every day in a way that helps the world see Jesus through you. That's why everything we do and see in this world matters. It all matters.

Let’s think again about Joseph and all he went through. Matthew tells the story rather compactly, but undoubtedly this whole thing happened over a number of days, maybe weeks. Matthew says Mary was “found to be pregnant” (1:18). Was she the one to tell Joseph? Maybe, maybe not because betrothed couples did not tend to spend a lot of time together during the time between the betrothal and their wedding. Did someone else tell him? Was it just becoming obvious as the baby grew? We don’t know how Joseph learned about it, and whether he talked to Mary or not, he didn’t initially believe the rest of the story—that the baby was a result of the work of the Holy Spirit. So, we’re told, Joseph “considered this” (1:20). He pondered the situation. He thought about what to do. Joseph was a working man, a tekton or a craftsman. Many think he might have been either working on building projects in Jerusalem, hence his home in Bethlehem, or perhaps living in Nazareth and working on building projects in nearby Sepphoris. Regardless, he was working. He had to make a living. He didn’t have time to sit around and just think about stuff. But for a “faithful” person, as Matthew says Joseph was, there was no division between his life and his faith, between “spiritual” and “secular.” It all mattered; it was all integrated. His faith was a part of his normal, everyday life. His “consideration,” his pondering was all a part of his lived-out life.

And his faith became even more integrated when he finally made the decision he did. Or, perhaps we should say “decisions,” because both of the things he decides flow out of his faith and his “ordinary” life being woven together. First, he decided to quietly divorce Mary. That was the “kindler, gentler” option. The Jewish law said he could have had her stoned to death; that was the penalty for adultery, which is what it appeared Mary had committed. Stoning for such crimes was rarely practiced in the first century, though (cf. Carson, “Matthew,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 8, pg. 75). More likely, someone in his position would have chosen a bitter, public divorce—sort of like the kind that plays out in the media today. He could have shamed her, but beyond just being, as Matthew says, a person who was “faithful to the law,” Joseph was also a compassionate man. He was righteous, but not self-righteous, so he made up his mind to divorce her quietly (1:19). This meant Mary would preserve both her life and at least some of her dignity. It would be as if their betrothal had never happened.

When he goes to sleep, that compassion kicks in again. He hears the word of the angel, that this pregnancy is supernatural in origin. Mary has not been unfaithful; in fact, Mary has been more faithful than he ever imagined. She has been faithful to God. Now, because I wonder such things, I seriously doubt that this one dream erased all doubts in Joseph’s mind. I imagine there were days to come where he would look at Mary’s burgeoning belly and wonder—was it just a dream? Was that really an angel that spoke to me? Is this true? But he still took the word of the Lord through the angel at face value. In the midst of his ordinary, day-to-day, tekton life, he chose to trust that God was at work here, even if he didn’t know for sure all the details. Matthew tells us that when Joseph woke up, he did what the angel told him to do. He even denied himself the pleasures of marriage until after the baby was born. Matthew doesn’t say Joseph believed everything. Matthew simply says Joseph did—and he trusted that God would bring them through. Which makes me wonder again (and this may be a total tangent): at what point do you think Joseph really believed, really knew that God was up to something here? Was it after the dream? Or was it later, when the baby was born and some shepherds came looking for him (Luke 2:16-18)? Was it at some point after they had fled to Egypt (Matthew 2:13-14), or when they were back in Nazareth (Matthew 2:19-23)? Was it maybe even two years later, when some wise men from the east came and brought him expensive gifts (Matthew 2:11)? Maybe he was still wondering when they went to Jerusalem for the festival when Jesus was twelve (Luke 2:41-50). Or maybe it wasn’t until he stood before God and heard the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” When did Joseph believe?

Because sometimes we have to live into the belief we want to have. It’s not always easy to believe this gospel. That struggle is part of our heritage. John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist movement, often struggled with belief. He came as a missionary to Georgia (yes, the Georgia in the southern United States) but returned to England feeling like a failure. He was questioning everything, especially his own faith, when he met a young German Moravian Christian named Peter Bohler. At that point, Wesley was considering giving up preaching. He felt like he had to because he had so little faith to share with anyone. How could he continue in ministry? That’s exactly the question he put before Bohler in their conversation: should he quit preaching or not? Bohler responded in the strongest terms: “By no means!” What then could he preach, Wesley asked, and Bohler’s response has become quite famous: “Preach faith till you have it; and then, because you have it, you will preach faith” (Jackson, ed., Wesley’s Works, “Journals, Vol. 1,” pg. 86). That word spurred Wesley on; it did not mean everything was solved for him. He continued to struggle for quite some time, but he kept preaching faith until he had faith, and then he preached even more. Sometimes we have to live into the belief we want to have, live into what we hope is true, and I believe that’s what even Joseph had to do when he woke up from his dream. He kept living out his faith even when he didn’t “feel” it. And because he lived it out in the day-to-day world, his faith increased.

And so this week is Christmas, and on Friday evening, we will gather in this place for Christmas Candlelight services. And we will likely see some people we haven’t seen in church for some time, and some of us will growl about that or comment about those who only show up for Christmas and Easter. I know we will, because I’ve often done it. I knew a pastor once who said he wanted to put lilies out on the Christmas altar just in case some folks didn’t make it back for Easter. He didn’t do it, but he wanted to. So we grumble and complain, but as I’ve thought about the incarnation this year, I’ve begun to think that at least part of the problem lies with us. Sometimes, honestly, we are, as the saying goes, “too heavenly minded to be any earthly good.” Quite honestly, some folks don’t see much use in a faith that doesn’t impact the here and now. And I think that’s part of the attraction, especially at Christmas. We give lip service to a God who is with us, who is for us, right here and right now but then our talk seems to focus on the sweet by and by, up in the sky, sometime when we die. If anything, the incarnation reminds us that Jesus is God in the flesh—human flesh—fully human, fully God. Christmas is earthy, and the incarnation gives us hope that God might just know where we are. Christmas reminds us that it all matters, that we can find the presence of God at church and at the soup kitchen. Like the shepherds, we can expect to find God in angelic voices in the night sky and in the smelly stable filled with unclean animals. We find God in the dear saint kneeling at the altar and in the disagreeable person who argues politics with anyone who dares to comment on Facebook, in the person you love and in the person you love to hate (cf. Willimon 69). Because God is in the manger, he is everywhere. He is set loose in the world.

Bishop Will Willimon tells about a student of his who spent the summer working as a volunteer at a center for the homeless. Seven days a week they provided free food, free medical care, free counseling to all sorts of people. At the end of one particularly grueling day, it was just this student and an old Jesuit priest left, cleaning up the center and closing things up. As they closed the door, they both noticed a shabby old woman, a bag lady, coming down the walk toward the center. The student was tired and frustrated. “Not another one!” he said. “Jesus Christ.” And the priest knowingly said, “Could be, could be,” as he opened the door (Willimon 70). Because Jesus is everywhere, and it all matters.

As we enter another Christmas week, where will you find Jesus? Are you looking for him, in places other than in the manger? Incarnation means he just might show up anywhere, and invite you to live out your faith right here and right now. Where will you see him? And where will he find you this Christmas? Let’s pray.