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Christmas Presence
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Christmas Presence
“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel (which means, God with us).” (Matt 1:23 ESV)
God With Us
Presence. It’s that thing we talk about and remember years after the funeral.
“I don’t know which flowers were bought by whom, and I can’t remember what the preacher said in his eulogy, but I will always remember that you were there.”
It’s the thing we hope for when we get the call with the worst news of our life.
“She’s not gonna make it. After she breathes her last breath, I’ll be there at the hospital, by her side, all alone—except for my best friend who left his office in Dallas, canceled his weeks’ worth of appointments, and drove down just to be with me.”
I know some of you already have your Christmas plans. You’ll be driving a long way to see friends and family. And for others, whether because of employment or deployment, you’ll be singing the old classic “I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.” We would call that Plan B. We will zoom if we have to. We will be there in spirit if we must. But Plan A is to be really, truly, physically present.
Technology has given us some incredible things. I’m grateful that Grace can “Facetime” Grandma; that we can send mail electronically that will get to you in a matter of milliseconds rather than days. But no matter what devices we employ, some things you just can’t phone in. Bodies sharing life together is what presence truly means. That’s always Plan A.
The Bible says God walked in the garden in the cool of the day (Gen 3:8). There’s not a throw-away line in Scripture. Don’t let your philosophical thinking caps ruin the power of the language here. Enter the story world for just a moment. You don’t use the word “walking” unless you mean to say that God was stretching his legs on a morning stroll. You don’t mention the “cool” of the day unless you want us to picture God delighting in the breeze that runs across his cheek. I say all that to remind you that in the Garden, God was actually “with” Adam and Eve. He was present. The language of Scripture is meant to tell you that we, in our bodies, standing and sweating, were meant to experience the actual presence of God. We were meant to walk together. God was meant to be “with” us. That’s the way it was supposed to be. That was always plan A.
Moses begged and pleaded for guidance and for companionship. He begged for God not to leave them orphans on the journey. Never you fear, said the Lord; “My presence will go with you” (Ex 33:14). And the way you will know I’m with you is by a cloud. A cloud will lead you during the day. And then I’ll make you build an Ark of the Covenant. Inside you will house the tablets of stone containing the very words of God, and manna that sustained you,--bread that gave you life. When you eat the shewbread, you’ll call itLev the bread of “Presence” (Ex 39:36). And on the lid, I want you to build golden angels whose touching wings will form the mercy seat. The wings would “overshadow” the mercy seat, and The Spirit of God would “come upon” it. The cloud would descend and hover over the mercy seat. That’s where I will meet you (Ex 25:22).
The ark sat in the Holy of Holies in the Tabernacle. To have the ark in your midst was to have God in your midst.
Speaking to a people war-torn and wearied, Zephaniah looks back to reminds them that God’s presence is still with them, and looks forward to remind them the promise is still true of a future day to end all days, when the presence of the the Lord would be complete:
“Sing aloud, O daughter of Zion…Rejoice and exult with all your heart…The King of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst; you shall never again fear evil…On that day it shall be said to Jerusalem, ‘Fear not…The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save…” (Zephaniah 3:14-17 ESV)
600 years later, on a quiet, starry night, a certain Mary opens her mouth and sings. She’s a virgin, a daughter in the lineage of David. And she sings. And why does she sing? Because in Luke chapter 1, Mary is visited by an Angel. “Fear Not” says Gabriel to Mary, the Virgin daughter of Zion. “You will conceive and give birth to a son…He will be great…the Holy one to be born will be called the Son of God” (Luke 1:30-32, 35). Just as the Ark of the Covenant held the two tablets—the very words of God, and manna from the wilderness—bread wafers that gave them life; just as the wings of the golden angels “overshadowed” the mercy seat where God met man (Ex 25:20; 37:9; 1 Kings 8:7; Heb 9:5), this angel proclaims that the Spirit of God will overshadow Mary and place within her the Word of God and the Bread of life. And she sings. A song of jubilant rejoicing. “My soul magnifies the Lord, an my spirit rejoices in God, my Savior. In her song, Mary calls God “the mighty one” (Luke 1:49) who comes to “save” (Luke 1:47). The baby growing within her “came to save his people from their sin” (Matt 1:21).
Can you see him? Can you see him there first in Mary’s womb, then there in the manger? Can you see God in a box? Can you see God in flesh? Can you see his little hands that will one day hold the hand of a leper, and later bear the marks of a nail. Can you see his little toes just aching for the chance to grow strong so his feet can hit the ground, first to run to sinners, then to run to the cross?
He came. He came in body. He came to walk. To be present. He came for you.
And the Apostle Paul tells us that just as God dwelled in Israel, and God came to dwell in Mary…even so, God can now dwell in you. Because the resurrection and ascension of that same little baby means that the Spirit of God now overshadows you in your baptism and comes to dwell in you. And as Paul puts it: “Christ in you is the hope of glory!”
Fear No Evil
Skye Jethani shares the following story in his excellent book, With. In the middle of the night on January 27, 1956, Martin Luther King Jr. got a telephone call.
“Listen…we tired of you and your mess. If you ain’t out of this town in three days, we gonna blow your brains out and blow up your house.”
He was 26 years old and scared to death. You see, just two months prior, Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat and the Montgomery Bus Boycott began. The leaders of the boycott began calling local black ministers to join the movement. Martin was reluctant. “Let me think on it awhile. Call me back” he said. But when he discovered the meeting place for a boycott rally was his own church, where he was the preacher, he figured he probably should attend. Before he could even turn around, he was elected president of the Boycott committee—since the older folks knew how dangerous it would be, and nominated the new kid in town. Martin would later say “I did not even have time to think it through. If I had, I would have declined the nomination.”
And so it began. The obscene phone calls. The hate mail. The threats against his wife and infant daughter. And now, on this night, the chilling call promising murder and arson.
He was scared to death. “Paralyzed” with fear are his words to describe it. He sat down in the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He thought of how to get out of the Boycott committee. And there, in the darkness of his kitchen, he prayed.
And Martin Luther King heard a voice—a powerful voice—echoing the words of Scripture—and that voice filled the room. “Stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for truth. And lo, I will be with you, even until the end of the world.” King said He “promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone. No, never alone. No, never alone. He promised to never leave me, never to leave me alone.”
He stayed with it. Four days later, Martin went to lead a Boycott rally at the church, while his wife ad 2-month old stayed at home. When he finished his speech, someone rushed the stage to tell him “your house has been bombed!”
When he got back to his neighborhood, he could see his house on fire—the front completely destroyed. His family was ok, but the neighborhood was filled with angry citizens, armed with knives, bats, bottles, and guns on one side, and on the other side were cops trying to keep order. And Martin Luther King displayed the courage and patience that can only come from knowing God is with you.
He made his way to his smoldering front porch, and stood on the rubble of his firebombed home. He then signaled for the crowd to quiet down. He said “If you’ve come to do battle,” remember that “he who lives by the sword shall perish by the sword.” Instead, said King, standing in front of his bombed-out house, face-to-face with an angry mob ready to unleash their anger as soon as he said the word, looked at the crowd and said
“I want you to love your enemies. Be good to them. Love them and let them know you love them . . . What we are doing is right. What we are doing is just. And God is with us.”
People who were there that night have shared their incredible testimony as to what happened next. Tears began streaming down their faces. They dropped their knives, laid down their bats, and instead, began to sing “Amazing Grace.” It was a turning point, where a movement based in a righteous cause but uncertain of the right approach chose to root itself in an ethic of love, forgiveness, and nonviolence. Martin’s wife said “This could well have been the darkest night in Montgomery’s history, but the Spirit of God was in our hearts.”
I read through the genealogy Matthew gives us as he begins his gospel. And I see fear. So much fear. I see worry. I see loneliness. I see longing. And I see waiting. How could this story possibly lead to anything good?
I see Tamar (Matt 1:3), a Canaanite woman without a husband. An outsider with no support. Pregnant with her father-in-law’s baby, who has called for her to be burned (Gen 38:24). But then, by the mercies of God, the story takes a wonderful turn—and she is not hurt; rather, she is praised and the child is a child of promise through whom comes the Christ, for God was with her.
I see Rahab (Matt 1:5), a woman from Jericho without a husband, who was known in the city as a prostitute (Josh 2:1). But there were times and places then, like there are times and places now, where a single woman who wishes to provide for herself in a man’s world had few choices. Who knows what would have been the ultimate fate of Rahab, had it not been for the fortuitous moment when God sent spies into the land needing a place to hide. And Rahab the prostitute become a woman of valor, getting her name in the hall of faith (Heb 11:31), becomes an example of righteousness for James, listed alongside Abraham of all people (James 2:25), and the text says that Joshua and the spies rescued her, and her momma, and her brothers, and “all who belonged to her” because God was with her (Josh 6:23, 25). But here in Matthew, and only here in Matthew, do we learn this incredible fact: she gave birth to a son, a promised child, through whom came the Christ.
I see Ruth (Matt 1:5), a Moabite woman whose husband had died. Deuteronomy tells us that a Moabite must not enter the congregation of Israel—not even up to the 10th generation (Deut 23:3). She leaves her homeland and lands in a strange place with only her mother-in-law. “Don’t leave me alone,” she says, “where you go I will go, and your God will be my God.” Oh, and he would be. For God was with her. Boaz gives her food. He gives her shelter. Then by marriage he gives her a name, and hope, and a future. And, a child—a child through whom came the Christ, for God was with her.
I see Bathsheba (Matt 1:6), snatched from her home by a powerful king and taken to his bedchamber—all while her husband was away fighting for that very King. The text doesn’t tell us her side of the story. But there were places then, just as there are places now, where the emperor gets what he wants, and you have little choice. And now she is pregnant with the king’s baby while her faithful husband is away on the battle lines. Can you imagine the fear she must have felt? She watches in horror as the king practices secrecy to cover his tracks, then deceit, and finally murder of her husband. Then he takes her and adds her to his herem. She lost her purity, then her reputation, then her husband. And to top it all off, she loses the child. Fear. Pain. Uncertainty. But the story isn’t over. For God was with her. Another child is born—a child named Solomon, and the Lord loved him, and through them came the Christ (2 Sam 12:24).
When everything points to tragedy, God points to hope. When all you see is a husbandless woman bearing a child as a thing of fear and shame, God says “Look again; for this has often been the red carpet that rolls out before my arrival; I work marvelous things in situations like these.”
When you find yourself in what seems like a hopeless situation, see what others don’t see. Look behind the veil of the curtain and know that God is with you. He’s there in the darkness. But isn’t he always?
The visit to the shepherds was at night. His star in the East, shown at night. And the little baby Jesus was there in the darkness of Mary’s womb. God is present with you in the darkness. That isn’t when he is absent. That’s when he shows up!
My God is with you.
When you (like Hannah) struggle with infertility, and you’ve cried out to God for years with tears so strong they have poured from your face and you wonder if anyone is wish you…I want you to know, God is WITH you.
When you (like so many) are mistreated, used by a man for his own purposes, and a child is born and you don’t know what your future could possibly look like now, and you don’t believe anyone is with you…I want you to know, God is WITH you.
When you (like Joseph) are a humble man, working a humble job, and your world gets turned upside down…you know that everything in your life is about to change and you feel fear, dread, and uncertainty…I want you to know, God is WITH you.
When you (like Mary) feel too insignificant to be noticed—a teenage girl in a small town, perhaps; when you are faced with an unplanned and unexpected pregnancy; when divorce is a real live possibility that’s been put on the table…I want you to know, God is WITH you.
He is with you when you don’t seem to fit, and there just isn’t any room for you in the inn. He is WITH you. Present forever. For Jesus said, “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)
Excerpts taken from a 3-part sermon series at the West Side Church of Christ titled “Christmas Presence.” These lessons appear on the Life on the West Side podcast (Season 2, Episodes 44-46). Available on all podcast platforms.
Resources For Christmas Presence
Books
Barfield, Kenny. The Things That Were, The Things That Are, The Things That Will Be: Allowing the Bible to Interpret the Book of Revelation, Vol 2: Chapters 12-22 (Lambert Book House, 2021)
Crouch, Andy. The Life We’re Looking For: Reclaiming Relationship in a Technological World (Convergent Books, 2022)
Hauerwas, Stanley. Matthew, Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible (Brazos Press, 2006).
Jethani, Skye. With: Reimagining the Way You Relate to God (Thomas Nelson, 2011)
McGuiggan, Jim. The Dragon Slayer: Reflections on the Saving of the World (McGuiggan Publishing, 2004)
Ratzinger, Joseph. Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives (Image, 2012)
Online Articles
Gupta, Mukesh. “The Difficulty of Being in the Present Moment and Strategies to Overcome It.” rmukeshgupta.com (Jan 15, 2020).
Taylor, Justin. “85 Years Ago Today: J. R. R. Tolkien Convinces C. S. Lewis that Christ is the True Myth.” The Gospel Coalition (Sep 20, 2016).
Online Sermons
McGuiggan, Jim. “The Dragon Slayer” series.
Wilson Billy, “One of Us.”
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My name is Nathan Guy, and I serve as the preaching minister for the West Side Church of Christ in Searcy, Arkansas. I am happily married to Katie and am the proud father of little Grace. You can find more resources on my website over at nathanguy.com. Follow me: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and YouTube.
