How are your gift-wrapping skills? This week many of us here will get a good work out measuring, folding, taping - plenty of tape. Wrapping is not my forte. Shopping I don’t mind, but wrapping is one aspect of the season I could do without. But it wouldn’t be Christmas without the wrapping. In fact, I sometimes wonder if that is all Christmas is - wrapping. On Christmas morning when all the presents are under the tree, they are beautiful, a veritable kaleidoscope of colors glimmering under tree. But in a few short minutes after being attacked by a horde of excited kids, the pains we went to wrap those gifts lays strewn across the floor as a sad reminder that Christmas is now over for another year. No, Christmas is often more about the paper than the present, more about the wrapping than the giving. Let’s face it, even a Chia-pet looks great covered by a layer of shinny gold paper. The fruitcake when wrapped is still pretty; at least the tin is a lovely keepsake. The holiday season is filled with this confusion. With tinsel and garland, with lights and candles we create an image of winter beauty, when, minus the decorations, it is just another drab, colorless winter day. Our world so often hands us gifts which excite us when they come with gold ribbons and fancy bows. But within are gifts which offer little. There are times when the meagerness of life is veiled by the externals, but once they are removed we are left as empty as before. The holiday festivities promise excitement, but for far too many the excitement only produces a hangover the next morning. The wonder of the season leaves for some a mounting debt for the new year. Families may gather decked in their finest apparel, donning festive regalia, but still are empty and hurting inside. The holiday trimmings are too often a thin veneer, which, when peeled back, reveal pain. It is far too tempting to live life like the fancy present, with bows and shinny ribbons, while within the box is empty. The pain is masked, but never removed. It comes as no surprise that of all times the holiday season is the time for many to commit suicide, others to retreat in a drunken stupor. The pained question raised by Mike Witkowski who attempted to save Connie’s brother tells the confusion: "But we only had five days to go and then we'd be off Christmas Day," Witkowski said. The emptiness and pain are at times more than we can handle. It is in times like these God offers us a rather unusual gift. Beneath the tree its pathetic appearance draws attention to itself. The wrapping job is a cock-eyed arrangement of horrid hues, the ribbon is nasty twine tied in twisted knots, the size awkward and negligible. Unlike the glistening gold and radiant red paper of other presents, this sits there rather unattractive. In fact, it is rather repulsive. What kind of present would be wrapped like that? Would not God’s gifts be the most pleasing to the eye? Would not His be the biggest and best? But as we unwrap this grotesque gift we are met with an astounding present. The gift the Father gives us which we celebrate at Christmas is that of his Son, whose wrappings were strips of cloth, whose bed a feeding trough, whose home was a cattle shed. Bethlehem offers little at first glance, but it is in that setting that God’s greatest gift was given. Our passage this morning is an Old Testament prophecy regarding Christ’s birth. These weeks of Advent we’ve visited some of the more familiar passages which speak of Christ’s first coming. This morning we’ll look at Micah which tells of the place of His birth, the town of Bethlehem.
I’d like to concentrate on that aspect of the prophecy which spoke of the place of Christ’s birth, for it is there we see the pitiful wrapping, but the precious gift. THE WRAPPING IS MISERABLE Micah was a prophet during Isaiah’s life. When this was written the threat of Syria and Ephriam has passed, now Assyria looms large on the scene, ready to pounce just as Isaiah had foretold. Jerusalem readies for battle as the city will be attacked. In a short time the Assyrian General Sennacerib will storm the city of Jerusalem, but escape after 185,000 of his men die suddenly while encamped around the walls of Jerusalem. But with the removal of the Assyrian threat, the peace was short lived. Soon the Chaldean hordes rise up to attack. Nebuchadnezzar’s troops succeed where the Assyrians fail; they take Jerusalem. Zedekiah, King of Judah, was taken prisoner and forced to watch his own children executed before his eyes and then, with that dreadful image etched in his mind, his eyes were gouged out and he was taken to Babylon. The ruler was struck with the rod. Verse 2 seems to give some hope, but what kind of hope? At first it seems to be a cruel joke. We find hope in power and might. We think a situation is hopeful when we can see the light at the end of the tunnel. But here hope is given by means of a town that has nothing to offer. While the mighty city of Jerusalem is ordering her troops to prepare for battle, eight miles to the south and west lies a little hamlet called Bethlehem. "But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah..." Why this name? The second name helps identify which Bethlehem is referred to here. This town is mentioned three times in the Old Testament. It’s first mentioned in Genesis 35. Rachel was about to give birth. Jacob’s favorite wife, for whom he worked 14 years to marry, had had trouble conceiving. She had given Jacob only one son, his favorite, Joseph. Now she was pregnant again, but the labor was increasingly hard. She struggles and dies. But before she dies, she names the child Ben-oni, Son of Sorrow. The first reference to Bethlehem is a woman giving birth, but instead of the joy which accompanies birth, there is sorrow. Jacob renames the child. He will not grow up a Son of Sorrow, but is called Benjamin, Son of my Right Hand. In this we have the first hint of Christ. We see the sadness and sorrow of Bethlehem. We often forget the horror that is associated with Bethlehem. We see it as the birth place of the our Savior, but forget that the image of sorrow is associated with it. In Matthew 2 the chief priests and teachers of the law identify Bethlehem as the birthplace of the Messiah, and so quote from Micah to show King Herod that is where the king is to be born. Armed with that knowledge Herod engages in the wholesale slaughter of the infants and toddlers in that town, so that the connection between Bethlehem and Rachel’s sorrow is magnified (Matthew 2:18). As to Christ’s earthly life, He is a man of sorrow, acquainted with grief, Isaiah tells us. But as to the Godhead, He is now seated at the right hand of the Father Almighty. To confuse this is to miss the greatness of the gift. Christ comes to us, though shrouded in pain and suffering. We must never let the wonderful gift of eternal life cause us to forget that the gift of life comes wrapped in sorrow. Christ’s life and death are the reason behind our ability to sing and celebrate, but that should always be etched on our minds - that we have life through his death for us. God’s grace for us is free, but it cost the Son His life. THE BOW IS HARSH Bethlehem is mentioned another time when it plays a central role in the book of Ruth. It is from that town that Elimelech and Naomi leave in search of a better life. With great ambition they seek a better life far from God’s people. But sorrow finds that family from Bethlehem as Naomi’s husband and then her sons soon die. She is left a widow with a daughter-in-law from another land. Naomi returns home once again, not with her head held high as when she left, but hanging in sorrow. As she re-enters Bethlehem, she gives her self a new name. No longer will she be called Naomi, which means pleasant, but as Mara - bitterness. There in Bethlehem Ephrathah sorrow and bitterness are again felt. But the story of Naomi does not end in bitterness as her relative, Boaz, comes on the scene. As Naomi is faced with a destitute and bitter life, Boaz fulfills his role as the kinsman-redeemer and takes Ruth as his wife. Bethlehem is no longer a place of bitterness, but becomes the backdrop for redemption. The bitterness, the harshness of life must be peeled off to reveal the life changing power that is possible. What does God do with our bitterness? Bitterness is a frightening truth for so many. We see the package and refuse to remove the bow. Lives begun with hopefulness come face to face with the harsh reality of life. Dashed desires often leave us bitter. But as we find the harshness of our lives turning our hearts colder and colder with each passing day, we are forced either to wallow in our own pain, or to see that another bore our pain, suffered for our cold hearts and will redeem us, remove the bitterness and give us the pleasant life that only He can give. During the holidays our joy can give way to bitterness, whether it is as trivial as not getting the gifts you wanted so much, or the recognition that as another year passes your goals are less and less attainable. But it is that bitterness which God places before you to force you to recognize that the bitter heart you have need not remain cold and barren. THE SIZE IS INSIGNIFICANT A third time Bethlehem is mentioned is perhaps most familiar to us. Bethlehem is the town of David, as Matthew and Luke remind us. That this insignificant hamlet is the birthplace of Israel’s greatest king and a picture of Christ, seems to swell it in importance. But that was not always the case. When God tells Samuel (1 Samuel 16) to anoint a new person as King over Israel, Samuel goes to the small village of Bethlehem as God directs and finds the home of Jesse. Samuel lines up each of the sons of Jesse to determine who is the one God desires, but each is rejected despite the appearance of suitability. One son is not present; the youngest is out with the sheep. That is the one God desires. While Samuel was perplexed as to whom God would chose, he was reminded in 1 Samuel 16:7. David, whose insignificant size was mocked by Goliath, was the powerful victor in battle. So it was with Bethlehem when Christ was born. Its only claim to fame was as David’s birthplace, but that was over 800 years before. There was nothing spectacular about that town which would attract attention. But that is the way God often works. Christ’s beginnings are small, insignificant. The gift of eternal life does not come in the packages of earth-shattering global announcements. It is not portrayed with the complexities we so often think should attend our lives. When Christ was born 2000 years ago in Bethlehem it was in an out of the way hamlet. But we only see the gift when we get past the packaging. The gift is lasting, constant, never ending. "His goings forth are from long ago, From the days of eternity." As we saw in Isaiah 9 last week the child born a king is the Mighty God, the one who gives everlasting life. This child born into a pitiful town, whose life here on earth is filled with sorrow, is the eternal Son of God. This is where we find the hope we need. This gift far outshines the meager externals of its wrappings. When we are given sorrow, find bitterness in our lives, when our insignificance seems to well up in our lives, it is only when we peel back those painful feelings that we will find the gift of grace, the forgiveness of sins, hope for eternity. The pain and agony we may face today are a part of the life God uses to make His gift of eternal life shine all the more gloriously. What a comfort for us when we understand that Christ’s work for us did not begin in Bethlehem, but that from eternity past did He set out to make us His own. This lasting gift provides for us as well. "And He will arise and shepherd His flock In the strength of the LORD, In the majesty of the name of the LORD His God. " He will stand and feed; Christ did not accomplish His work for us only to leave us alone, forgotten. He nurtures us even now, works on our behalf. Christ is the gift God has given us which never ceases to give to us exactly what we need. The great Head of the Church is actively providing for His people. His work for us is not over with the death on the Cross, but even now He applies all the benefits of His death for us, today. But that gift is also one which produces calm, peace. "And they will remain, Because at that time He will be great To the ends of the earth. This One will be our peace."There is the promise of a secure life. Our security is not based on what we can provide, but what God provides for us. The reason for our security is in His greatness which reaches to the ends of the earth. For that reason we will have peace, for He is our peace. He has made peace between us and the Father; He has reconciled us and united us to Himself. Samuel Rutherford was a Scottish minister who was born about 1600. After teaching humanities at the University of Edinburgh he became the pastor at Anworth in 1627. When the Episcopalians gained the power over the Scottish Church, Rutherford was imprisoned two years in Aberdeen for his Presbyterian convictions. His life was a mixture of success and hardship. His two children died before they grew up. His wife then became ill and after a year she died. His own health wavered as well and for weeks on end he would be confined to bed, unable to move due to a ravaging fever. His arms were soon crippled with pain. Through the difficult times his extraordinary skills in scripture and politics were seen. He was chosen to serve on the Counsel that wrote the famous Westminster Confession. But good fortune did not last long. His Presbyterian persuasions once again came in conflict with the state controlled church and once again he was arrested. Despite failing health and advancing age he was called to stand before the Parliament on the charge of high treason. His was a life of sorrow and bitter events. While in prison Rutherford would not be quiet. About 220 letters are preserved from the two years he spent in the Aberdeen prison. In them one is able to glimpse at the perspective of one whom the Lord gave a gift wrapped in pain, but when the bow was released, the radiant glory and all sufficient grace of Christ shone forth. It was there in prison Rutherford discovered the source of enduring happiness. He expressed it in these stunning words: ”If God had told me some time ago that He was about to make me as happy as I could be in this world, and then had told me that He should begin by crippling me in all my limbs, and removing me from all my usual sources of enjoyment, I should have thought it a very strange mode of accomplishing His purpose. And yet, how is His wisdom manifest even in this! for if you should see a man shut up in a close room, idolizing a set of lamps and rejoicing in their light, and you wished to make him truly happy, you would begin by blowing out all his lamps; and then throw open the shutters to let in the light of heaven. Oh how I pray that when God, in mercy, begins to blow out my lamps, I will not curse the wind.” |
