Advent 3--Unworthy, but not Unloved

John 1:6-8, 19-28

About this time of year, a memory flashes across my mind of a time when I sat in front of the Christmas tree with my dad, down in his den. This was a long room in the basement, next to my mom’s beauty shop. At one end was dad’s stereo setup, with the record player, four big speakers. He loved music. And each year he would string up Christmas lights on the ceiling in the shape of a big T, and wrap the lights in silver garland. We would sometimes sit down there, he and I, watching all the Christmas lights and listening to Christmas music.

And there, one evening, I dared to ask my dad a question. I said, “Dad, what were Christmases like, when you were a kid?” And he began explaining that there wasn’t ever much, in the way of presents. It was the Great Depression, and he and his brother were lucky to get a fresh orange or apple in their stocking, with a couple of pieces of ribbon candy.

But one Christmas, he said, his dad came to them with something special. He gives them a handful of crude little metal soldiers, made by his own hands. Apparently he melted down one of his guns to get the metal. And he says, “Boys, I’m sorry,” and that was all Dad could say to me, at first.

“Boys, I’m sorry.” And as my dad told me this story, there was a catch in his voice. “Boys, I’m sorry, but this is all I have to give you this Christmas.” And I looked over, and in the twinkle of the colored lights, I could see he had tears running down his cheek. Now I don’t have the foggiest idea what I got that Christmas, but I will never remember that night, when my dad let me peek inside his heart a little.

Tiny handmade soldiers, made out of love and desperation.  It was a gift that, I imagine, cost my grandfather dearly. Not in terms of money, but in terms of something he valued. Because, you see, this was a man who had lived off the land for about 20 years, hunting and fishing and trapping up next to the Great Divide in Colorado. A gun would have been his closest companion. A gun would have protected him at night, put food in his belly, given him the means to trade for supplies. Maybe he’d had that gun since he was a young man. Maybe his own father had given it to him. No doubt, it was a great sacrifice to melt it down and make a few toy soldiers for his sons… but he did it, because he loved them so. Not because they necessarily deserved it, but because he simply loved them.

Have you ever received a gift you didn’t deserve, and couldn’t possibly earn, because it cost the giver so much?

This time of year, when we get to questioning who has more presents, or if we need to get more, so someone doesn’t feel slighted or unloved, we are reminded that there was this gift offered to each of us that we can’t ever possibly deserve or earn, that cost someone so very much. And that gift was the Christ child. The Christ child comes to us each and every year as a reminder of God’s ever-present gift of salvation, and it’s all wrapped up in love. He doesn’t give his Son to us and then demand we accept him. He doesn’t offer this gift because he wants to punish us. He does it because he loves us.

And to do so, cost him his only Son. It cost him everything. The Son he sent in love would one day die for us. And there was never anything we could do to be worthy of that. Nothing we could do to deserve that. We are children who have no idea how much this gift cost our Father. We are unworthy, but we are so very loved and treasured.

John the Baptist got it right, when he says “I am not worthy.” He wasn’t worthy to be Christ’s servant, but that’s exactly the place and the role God gave him. John knew and admitted he wasn’t the Messiah. He could have claimed to be. He could have just agreed with the people who thought he was the Prophet or Elijah. But he was full of humility and gratitude. He didn’t think he was entitled to have people bow down and worship him. His job was to point to the Son, the One who would come.

He was filled with humility. And this is something we all need to have, as followers of Christ. Not to think better of ourselves than others. Not to think others are any less deserving of God’s blessings, for whatever reason. If we look long and hard enough, all of us will admit we have been blessed at times when we didn’t deserve it.

Christ comes to us in the form of a baby this time of year, and if we will be honest, we will admit that none of us truly deserves this. Not really. Christ will come again, one day, to set the world straight and bring his perfect justice, and still, we won’t deserve it. But it was never a question of our deserving or earning it. It was always question of “why God?” Why God. Why did God choose to give us, his children, such a priceless gift? Something that meant the world to him? Simply because he loved us so very much. And he still does.

You see, he makes a supreme sacrifice because we are of immense worth to him. You, me, the people you’re sitting by, the people you pass on your way to work. The people who drive by you on the highway like you’re standing still. The ones whose children are on the angel trees this time of year. We all are of immense value to him. His love knows no bounds.

            So if you’re wondering whether you’re loved this Christmas season, look no farther than the nativity… where a baby lays in the manger. Don’t count the number of gifts under your tree, the number of Christmas cards that come. Count all that it cost your heavenly Father—his only, precious Son.