Free Sermon Illustrations For January 2, 2011 From The Immediate Word
Children's sermon
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Preaching
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ILLUSTRATIONS
Flash-mob performances of Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus" are appearing in shopping malls across the country and have become popular YouTube viewing. Professional performers quietly mingle among the shopping crowd, when one by one they begin to sing. One reason this has become so popular is that the unsuspecting public is so familiar with the words that they are able to join in during the chorus.
Calvin Stapert, who wrote the book Handel's Messiah: Comfort for God's People, wonders why the politically correct police have not stopped the public performances. Stapert wrote, "You have to ask if many people are really listening to the words. After all, who is the 'King of Kings and Lord of Lords'? You would have to think that the cultural police would be out in a matter of minutes to shut this down if people were paying attention to this profoundly Christian work that is being sung right out in the open, in a mall. Has the 'Hallelujah Chorus' become so familiar that people cannot hear what it's saying?"
Has the "Hallelujah Chorus" gone the way of créches and other sacred remembrances of the Christmas season, in which we adorn the object more than the message that it represents? Has Christmas become so familiar that we no longer make a distinction between mistletoe and the kiss of peace? Let us not forget that Christmas means "Christ's Mass."
* * *
The word "Christmas" means "Christ-mass," and in fact it's sort of a nickname. The holiday's official name is the Feast of the Incarnation. Can you imagine how different our holiday would be if we started calling it by that name instead? "Incarnation" literally means "in the flesh." Of course, that's the doctrine that declares Jesus to be not some divine being masquerading in human clothing, but rather the God who lives (and eventually dies) as one of us.
If you send to friends a card that says "Merry Christmas" -- even if it depicts angels or shepherds or wise men -- they're likely to understand, on a practical level, that what you're wishing them is a happy mid-winter festival. That's how far the meaning of the word "Christmas" has become devalued in our culture. But what if you sent them instead a card wishing them a joyous Feast of the Incarnation? If your friends knew the meaning of that word, they would instantly understand that you were wishing them more than just free-floating good cheer. Instead, they would realize that you were wishing them a deeper relationship with Jesus Christ -- the one who "became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth."
* * *
The eminent biblical scholar J.B. Phillips, writing about the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, reminds us not to forget it at Christmastime:
I believe that at least once a year we should look steadily at the historic fact, and not at any pretty picture. At the time of this astonishing event only a handful of people knew what had happened. And as far as we know, no one spoke openly about it for thirty years. Even when the baby was grown to be a man, only a few recognized him for who he really was. Two or three years of teaching and preaching and healing people, and his work was finished. He was betrayed and judicially murdered, deserted at the end by all his friends. By normal human standards this is a tragic little tale of failure, the rather squalid story of a promising young man from a humble home, put to death by the envy and malice of the professional men of religion. All this happened in an obscure, occupied province of the vast Roman empire.
It is 1,500 years ago that this apparently invincible empire utterly collapsed, and all that is left of it is ruins. Yet the little baby, born in such pitiful humility and cut down as a young man in his prime, commands the allegiance of millions of people all over the world. Although they have never seen him, he has become friend and companion to innumerable people. This undeniable fact is, by any measure, the most astonishing phenomenon in human history. It is a solid rock of evidence that no agnostic can ever explain away.
-- excerpted from "The Christian Year," in Good News: Thoughts on God and Man (Macmillan, 1963)
* * *
Many of us have a deep desire to visit the Holy Land, to "walk where Jesus walked." The pages of the Bible come alive there, and places become real. Stepping off the bus in Nazareth, the tourist knows that this is the Lord's hometown. He grew up here. His father had a carpenter's shop here. You can see a sign reading "Mary's Well" and imagine Jesus as a lad drawing water from that well. In the center of the city is the Church of the Incarnation. A new edifice, it stands on the spot where there has been a church for centuries. As you walk around the outside of that church, you look up at three words in Latin carved in the stone: "Verbum factum est." There is the simple fact: "The Word became flesh." That's the wonder, the mystery, the glory of Christmas!
* * *
The building had stood empty for years. All of the utilities had been disconnected. But when the single-story structure was engulfed in flames, 170 Chicago firemen responded to the emergency call. Concerned that the homeless might be using the building for warmth in the winter months, four firefighters volunteered to enter the structure and search for squatters. That's when it happened. The heavy-timbered roof and wall collapsed. The four rescuers were trapped underneath the debris; two of them died. Those who perished were Edward Stringer, 47, who had twelve years on the force, and Corey Ankum, 34, who joined the department the previous year.
As Stringer and Ankum lay trapped beneath the timbers, across town a memorial service was being held. There was the clanging of a bell as the names were read of each of the 24 Chicago firefighters who died under a collapsing wall in the Union Stock Yards fire exactly 100 years previously on the same December day. Bill Cosgrove, a retired firefighter who participated in the ceremonial service, said: "It was beyond disbelief. It was a matter of a few hours and a hundred years later we have the same type of incident."
The names were different. The structures were different. The tragedies were separated by a century. But the grief was the same.
The hope is also the same, for it matters not the place, the time, or the person. In the dark shadows of grief there is the light of Jesus Christ. As John confesses in the prologue to his gospel, "The light shines in darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."
* * *
The first building that Mother Teresa began to operate out of in India was formerly a kind of hotel that people used when they went to visit the temple of Kali -- the Hindu goddess of death. Mother Teresa converted the building that had once been used by people who worshiped death and transformed it into a symbol of the life-giving love that God has for all people. Into that building Mother Teresa and her helpers began to gather the sick and the dying people of Calcutta who had been left on the sidewalks and in the gutters. One day some neighbors complained to the local authorities about what Mother Teresa was doing, and they wanted her evicted. But when the police commissioner came and saw how Mother Teresa was spending her life working amid such stench and misery, he said that the only way he would kick her out was if someone else took over in her place. No one volunteered. As John declares: "The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it."
* * *
"One if by land and two if by sea." With those words the patriots agreed on the signal to be given from the old church tower, a signal that would tell Paul Revere which route the British troops would take. He sat astride his horse watching, waiting for a light in the darkness to bring him the news he required to warn his countrymen. Though technology now precludes their necessity, for decade upon decade dedicated souls tended the lights that shone through the darkest of nights to warn mariners of dangerous reefs and rocky shores. Without the guiding beacon from lighthouses, countless lives might well have been lost at sea. Technology now provides satellites for navigation and communication on land and sea and in the air. But for centuries prior to ours, travelers depended on the stars to help them find their way -- little tiny lights in the vast sea of the night sky. Signal lanterns in a church tower, warning beacons from many shores, guiding stars in a midnight sky: all depended on darkness to make them visible. Perhaps that is the gift of darkness in our lives, to help focus our attention and make us aware of the Light of the World.
* * *
In a Family Circus comic strip, Billy, as he is waiting in line to sit on Santa's lap, asks his mother "Can I say, 'Yes'?" when asked if he has been naughty or nice.
Putting Santa aside, can you or I answer "Yes"? This Christmas season, reflecting on the past year, as we approach the sacred Nativity can we do so with a clear conscience? Can we confess that we have not been perfect, but that we have tried?
* * *
Underneath the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem -- an ancient church built over the legendary site of Jesus' birth -- there is a cave. Visitors to the church climb down underneath and enter. In the cave they find lamps perpetually burning, filling the cavern with light.
Pilgrims cannot walk upright into this cave -- the doorway is too small. To enter the cave of the nativity, you must bend almost to the waist. It's a fitting symbol -- Christians must bow in humility if we are to come to Jesus. We need that prayer of confession, the admission that we cannot defeat the darkness.
When we come in such a way, we do not find condemnation. God ushers us in to the place where we can meet the divine Son and worship the Christ with our very lives.
* * *
When heaven's bright with mystery
and stars still lead an unknown way,
when love still lights a gentle path
where courts of power can hold no sway,
there with the Magi let us kneel,
our gifts to share, God's world to heal.
-- Robert M. Johns, Songs for a Gospel People
The Immediate Word, January 2, 2011, issue.
Copyright 2010 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
Flash-mob performances of Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus" are appearing in shopping malls across the country and have become popular YouTube viewing. Professional performers quietly mingle among the shopping crowd, when one by one they begin to sing. One reason this has become so popular is that the unsuspecting public is so familiar with the words that they are able to join in during the chorus.
Calvin Stapert, who wrote the book Handel's Messiah: Comfort for God's People, wonders why the politically correct police have not stopped the public performances. Stapert wrote, "You have to ask if many people are really listening to the words. After all, who is the 'King of Kings and Lord of Lords'? You would have to think that the cultural police would be out in a matter of minutes to shut this down if people were paying attention to this profoundly Christian work that is being sung right out in the open, in a mall. Has the 'Hallelujah Chorus' become so familiar that people cannot hear what it's saying?"
Has the "Hallelujah Chorus" gone the way of créches and other sacred remembrances of the Christmas season, in which we adorn the object more than the message that it represents? Has Christmas become so familiar that we no longer make a distinction between mistletoe and the kiss of peace? Let us not forget that Christmas means "Christ's Mass."
* * *
The word "Christmas" means "Christ-mass," and in fact it's sort of a nickname. The holiday's official name is the Feast of the Incarnation. Can you imagine how different our holiday would be if we started calling it by that name instead? "Incarnation" literally means "in the flesh." Of course, that's the doctrine that declares Jesus to be not some divine being masquerading in human clothing, but rather the God who lives (and eventually dies) as one of us.
If you send to friends a card that says "Merry Christmas" -- even if it depicts angels or shepherds or wise men -- they're likely to understand, on a practical level, that what you're wishing them is a happy mid-winter festival. That's how far the meaning of the word "Christmas" has become devalued in our culture. But what if you sent them instead a card wishing them a joyous Feast of the Incarnation? If your friends knew the meaning of that word, they would instantly understand that you were wishing them more than just free-floating good cheer. Instead, they would realize that you were wishing them a deeper relationship with Jesus Christ -- the one who "became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth."
* * *
The eminent biblical scholar J.B. Phillips, writing about the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, reminds us not to forget it at Christmastime:
I believe that at least once a year we should look steadily at the historic fact, and not at any pretty picture. At the time of this astonishing event only a handful of people knew what had happened. And as far as we know, no one spoke openly about it for thirty years. Even when the baby was grown to be a man, only a few recognized him for who he really was. Two or three years of teaching and preaching and healing people, and his work was finished. He was betrayed and judicially murdered, deserted at the end by all his friends. By normal human standards this is a tragic little tale of failure, the rather squalid story of a promising young man from a humble home, put to death by the envy and malice of the professional men of religion. All this happened in an obscure, occupied province of the vast Roman empire.
It is 1,500 years ago that this apparently invincible empire utterly collapsed, and all that is left of it is ruins. Yet the little baby, born in such pitiful humility and cut down as a young man in his prime, commands the allegiance of millions of people all over the world. Although they have never seen him, he has become friend and companion to innumerable people. This undeniable fact is, by any measure, the most astonishing phenomenon in human history. It is a solid rock of evidence that no agnostic can ever explain away.
-- excerpted from "The Christian Year," in Good News: Thoughts on God and Man (Macmillan, 1963)
* * *
Many of us have a deep desire to visit the Holy Land, to "walk where Jesus walked." The pages of the Bible come alive there, and places become real. Stepping off the bus in Nazareth, the tourist knows that this is the Lord's hometown. He grew up here. His father had a carpenter's shop here. You can see a sign reading "Mary's Well" and imagine Jesus as a lad drawing water from that well. In the center of the city is the Church of the Incarnation. A new edifice, it stands on the spot where there has been a church for centuries. As you walk around the outside of that church, you look up at three words in Latin carved in the stone: "Verbum factum est." There is the simple fact: "The Word became flesh." That's the wonder, the mystery, the glory of Christmas!
* * *
The building had stood empty for years. All of the utilities had been disconnected. But when the single-story structure was engulfed in flames, 170 Chicago firemen responded to the emergency call. Concerned that the homeless might be using the building for warmth in the winter months, four firefighters volunteered to enter the structure and search for squatters. That's when it happened. The heavy-timbered roof and wall collapsed. The four rescuers were trapped underneath the debris; two of them died. Those who perished were Edward Stringer, 47, who had twelve years on the force, and Corey Ankum, 34, who joined the department the previous year.
As Stringer and Ankum lay trapped beneath the timbers, across town a memorial service was being held. There was the clanging of a bell as the names were read of each of the 24 Chicago firefighters who died under a collapsing wall in the Union Stock Yards fire exactly 100 years previously on the same December day. Bill Cosgrove, a retired firefighter who participated in the ceremonial service, said: "It was beyond disbelief. It was a matter of a few hours and a hundred years later we have the same type of incident."
The names were different. The structures were different. The tragedies were separated by a century. But the grief was the same.
The hope is also the same, for it matters not the place, the time, or the person. In the dark shadows of grief there is the light of Jesus Christ. As John confesses in the prologue to his gospel, "The light shines in darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."
* * *
The first building that Mother Teresa began to operate out of in India was formerly a kind of hotel that people used when they went to visit the temple of Kali -- the Hindu goddess of death. Mother Teresa converted the building that had once been used by people who worshiped death and transformed it into a symbol of the life-giving love that God has for all people. Into that building Mother Teresa and her helpers began to gather the sick and the dying people of Calcutta who had been left on the sidewalks and in the gutters. One day some neighbors complained to the local authorities about what Mother Teresa was doing, and they wanted her evicted. But when the police commissioner came and saw how Mother Teresa was spending her life working amid such stench and misery, he said that the only way he would kick her out was if someone else took over in her place. No one volunteered. As John declares: "The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it."
* * *
"One if by land and two if by sea." With those words the patriots agreed on the signal to be given from the old church tower, a signal that would tell Paul Revere which route the British troops would take. He sat astride his horse watching, waiting for a light in the darkness to bring him the news he required to warn his countrymen. Though technology now precludes their necessity, for decade upon decade dedicated souls tended the lights that shone through the darkest of nights to warn mariners of dangerous reefs and rocky shores. Without the guiding beacon from lighthouses, countless lives might well have been lost at sea. Technology now provides satellites for navigation and communication on land and sea and in the air. But for centuries prior to ours, travelers depended on the stars to help them find their way -- little tiny lights in the vast sea of the night sky. Signal lanterns in a church tower, warning beacons from many shores, guiding stars in a midnight sky: all depended on darkness to make them visible. Perhaps that is the gift of darkness in our lives, to help focus our attention and make us aware of the Light of the World.
* * *
In a Family Circus comic strip, Billy, as he is waiting in line to sit on Santa's lap, asks his mother "Can I say, 'Yes'?" when asked if he has been naughty or nice.
Putting Santa aside, can you or I answer "Yes"? This Christmas season, reflecting on the past year, as we approach the sacred Nativity can we do so with a clear conscience? Can we confess that we have not been perfect, but that we have tried?
* * *
Underneath the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem -- an ancient church built over the legendary site of Jesus' birth -- there is a cave. Visitors to the church climb down underneath and enter. In the cave they find lamps perpetually burning, filling the cavern with light.
Pilgrims cannot walk upright into this cave -- the doorway is too small. To enter the cave of the nativity, you must bend almost to the waist. It's a fitting symbol -- Christians must bow in humility if we are to come to Jesus. We need that prayer of confession, the admission that we cannot defeat the darkness.
When we come in such a way, we do not find condemnation. God ushers us in to the place where we can meet the divine Son and worship the Christ with our very lives.
* * *
When heaven's bright with mystery
and stars still lead an unknown way,
when love still lights a gentle path
where courts of power can hold no sway,
there with the Magi let us kneel,
our gifts to share, God's world to heal.
-- Robert M. Johns, Songs for a Gospel People
The Immediate Word, January 2, 2011, issue.
Copyright 2010 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
