The Dawn of Redeeming Grace
Christmas 2025
Opening Thought
Merry Christmas! The day we have been waiting for is finally here. The prophecy has been fulfilled; the light has broken into the darkness.
For many of us, today is marked by warmth—a tree piled with gifts, a glorious feast on the table, and the embrace of family surrounding us. These are beautiful gifts. But we must also acknowledge that for many others—perhaps more than we realize—this day looks very different. There may be no feast, no family gathered, and perhaps there never has been. The pressures of the holiday season can sometimes amplify loneliness or highlight what is missing.
Yet, these vastly different circumstances do not diminish the meaning of Christ’s birth. In fact, they enhance it. The Christ child didn’t come only for those with full tables; He came for all people—including those who are struggling, and even those who do not know who He is or have never heard His name. To me, that universal reach of God’s love is truly remarkable.
What is also remarkable to me on this day is the sheer perseverance it took to get to the manger. Mary and Joseph faced immense struggles along the way, yet they never gave up. When I think of that kind of steadfast strength, I am reminded of my own mother after my father’s death. She was only 39 years old, suddenly left to care for two small children—one of whom was a ten-year-old boy who could be unruly, angry inside, and mad at God for most of his childhood.
Looking back as an adult, I’m not sure how she did it. It would have been understandable if she had crumbled under the weight of that grief and responsibility, but she didn't. I know comparing anyone to Mother Mary might seem ridiculous because of the immense, unique scale of her calling—from the terrifying magnificence of Gabriel's announcement to the arduous trek to Bethlehem. Yet, the thread of human fortitude is the same. It is the grit required to keep putting one foot in front of the other when everything in you wants to give up. It is the determination to finish the race set before you, no matter how steep the hill or how heavy the burden. My mother continues to run her race with grace (sometimes despite her now-adult children!). And how wonderful it is that Mary and Joseph found that same strength to persevere through every adversity, crossing their own finish line in a stable in Bethlehem to bring us the Christ child, the light of the world.
Today, our liturgy peels back the layers of tradition to bring us face-to-face with that reality: God is with us, entering our struggles. Today, we are invited to do what the shepherds did: to leave our fields, our routines, and our fears, and to make haste to Bethlehem "to see this thing that has taken place."
Engaging the Word
Our journey begins with the most familiar and beloved narrative of all: Luke’s Gospel (2:1-20). We know this story by heart—the decree from Caesar, the journey to Bethlehem, the "no room at the inn," and the manger. But let us look closely at who receives the first announcement. It is not the Emperor in Rome or the religious elite in Jerusalem; it is shepherds living in the fields. The glory of the Lord shines around the marginalized and the humble. The angel’s message is clear: "I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people." This joy is not exclusive; it is expansive. The sign of God’s presence is humility—a baby wrapped in bands of cloth.
The prophet Isaiah (9:2-7) gives voice to the deep longing that precedes this joy. "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light." This is one of the most powerful lines in Scripture. Isaiah speaks of a light that breaks the rod of the oppressor and burns the boots of the tramping warrior. He promises a child who will bear the weight of authority, whose names tell us exactly who God is for us: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. This child changes the very structure of the world from one of war to one of endless peace.
In the Epistle to Titus (2:11-14), Paul explains what the "appearance" of this grace actually does. It is not just a comforting idea; it is an active force. "The grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all." Paul reminds us that this grace "trains us" to renounce impiety and worldly passions. The Incarnation changes how we live now, empowering us to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly while we wait for the blessed hope of his glory.
Finally, Psalm 96 commands our response to this news: "Sing to the Lord a new song." The birth of Christ requires a new song because the world has been made new. The Psalmist invites the whole created order to join the celebration—the heavens rejoice, the earth is glad, the sea roars, and even the trees of the forest sing for joy before the Lord who comes to judge the world with righteousness and truth.
A Journey in Song: Our Musical Guides
Today, our music needs no introduction. It is the soundtrack of our faith, the glorious, familiar carols that have given voice to the joy of Christmas for centuries. Each one highlights a different facet of this diamond-like truth.
We begin with the universal call to worship: "O come, all ye faithful" (#83). To open our celebration with the utmost majesty, we are using the legendary arrangement by Sir David Willcocks, the famed former director of King's College Choir, Cambridge. This composition is widely considered the definitive version of the carol. It builds verse by verse, culminating in a final stanza that feels truly divinely inspired. As the organ thunders a glorious, surprising re-harmonization and the soaring treble descant takes flight above the congregation's melody, it creates a sonic rush of pure transcendence—as if the roof of the church has opened to join the angelic chorus in singing "Glory to God in the highest!"
The Presentation Hymn offers a profound theological explanation for our gifts: "Hark! the herald angels sing" (#87). While often sung as a processional, placing Charles Wesley’s brilliant text here allows us to focus on the dense, rich poetry: "Veiled in flesh the Godhead see; / hail the incarnate Deity." It reminds us that the greatest gift being presented is Christ himself.Our Communion Hymns take us deeper into the mystery and storytelling of the Nativity. We begin with "What child is this" (#115), which poses the question on all our hearts and answers it with the hauntingly beautiful "Greensleeves" melody. We continue with "It came upon the midnight clear" (#89), focusing on the angels' message of peace to a weary world. The tender lullaby "Away in a manger" (#101) brings us close to the humanity of the baby Jesus. Finally, we sing the great narrative ballad "The first Nowell the angel did say" (#109), retelling the story one more time as we feast at the table.
Following Communion, the lights will dim for our most intimate tradition. By the glow of candlelight, we sing "Silent night, holy night" (#111). Its simple beauty captures the tenderness, the stillness, and the "heavenly peace" of that first Christmas night.
We are sent out into the world with the most triumphant of all carols: "Joy to the world! the Lord is come" (#100). We join with "heaven and nature" to sing, letting "fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains" repeat the sounding joy as we go forth to share the good news.
Closing Voluntary: To send us on our way with a skip in our step, the organ postlude is the delightful "Noël Suisse" by Louis-Claude Daquin. This French Baroque set of variations is full of rustic charm and unbridled joy, a perfect musical conclusion to our feast.
A Closing Note on our Journey
The journey of Advent is over. The Light has come. But as we kneel at the manger, we must remember that the road to this moment was not easy. For Mary and Joseph, the path to Bethlehem was paved with exhaustion, uncertainty, political chaos, and the dust of a weary world. They arrived tired and displaced, finding rest only in a stable.
Truthfully, the road back to the manger is rarely easy for us as adults, either. We do not come with the unblemished innocence of children. We often arrive dragging the heavy baggage of our lives—the silent battles with addiction, the sharp pang of recent loss, the grief of empty chairs at our tables, and the scars of our own mistakes. It can be a profound struggle just to find our way back to this place of hope.
But this is the deepest miracle of Christmas: the manger is exactly where those burdens belong. God did not come to a palace of perfection; He came to the mess, to the struggle, to the darkness. If you have fought to get here today, know that you are welcome. The Incarnation is God's promise that no struggle is too great, no darkness too deep, and no journey too far to keep Him from finding you.
Today, as we feast and celebrate, let us be like Mary, who "treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart." Let us ponder the mystery of a love so great that it crossed the boundary between heaven and earth to find us in our brokenness. The world is still dark, but the Light has come, and the darkness has not—and will not—overcome it.
Merry Christmas.
A Prayer for the Week Ahead
Let us pray with joy for the gift of the Incarnation.
For the holy Church of God throughout the world, that we may proclaim the good news of great joy to all people,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For the peace of the whole world, that the message of the angels may be heard and heeded by all nations, putting an end to war and division,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For all who are poor, homeless, or forgotten on this holy day, that they may find in the Christ child a brother who knows their suffering, and in us, his hands and feet of love,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For our own hearts, that we may be like the stable in Bethlehem—humble, open, and ready to receive the Savior of the world,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
Almighty God, you have given your only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and to be born this day of a pure virgin: Grant that we, who have been born again and made your children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit; through our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with you and the same Spirit be honor and glory, now and for ever.
Amen.
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