|
|
Following JesusLast week I received a Christmas letter from one of our missionary couples, David and Deborah Miller. It began with a story. Deborah called it “My Mary Story.” She began by saying that Mary, the Mother of Jesus, has always been her hero and for years Deborah had asked God to make her like Mary, the woman He chose among the women throughout history to bear His only begotten Son. And then we came to Sudan, Deborah wrote. For those of you who don’t know, David and Deborah Miller, who are now back with us, served as missionaries in the remote hill country of the Sudan, in a place where you could only travel by foot, where you could only live in mud huts, and where few, if any, white men and women had ever been. Here is Deborah’s story. It’s quite a Christmas story. “We were in the midst of building our mud huts,” she writes. “It was the rainy season, and I was hoeing the heavy clay soil of the garden we hoped to plant to supplement our rice and bean diet, suddenly an intense pain shot through my back. It took two people to carry me to our unfinished hut, where they laid me on the cold damp dirt floor on a thin foam mattress. I lay shivering under the leaking thatch, while the rain caused one of the mud walls to collapse. It would have to be remolded with cow dung. "I couldn’t move the pain was so unbearable. There was no possibility of evacuation because no one could carry me the 10 miles to the nearest airstrip. For three days I lay in this half finished, rain soaked mud hut, relieving myself in a bucket lid David brought to me throughout the day. "But the hardest part for me was at night when the mice came. David slept next to me, our son Danny at our feet, each on their own thin foam mattress. Amazingly, they slept peacefully. "But I just kept hearing the mice scurrying around me. Had I been off the floor on a bed I would not have minded as much. But the fact that I was on the bare floor and the mice could crawl over me kept me awake. In my pain I could only shine a flashlight to scare them back into the shadows. I was desperate for sleep but afraid of falling asleep.
There are two different ways of telling the Christmas story. You can tell the story from below or from above. You can tell the story ...
But we tend to prefer the stories from below. Matthew, for example, tells us about the time Joseph discovered that his young fiancé was pregnant. Imagine that: your fiancé pregnant. Joseph was going to end the relationship, but he determined to do it quietly; he didn’t want to cause Mary any more pain, any more embarrassment than she already felt. But the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph and said, “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife. Because the child she carries is from the Holy Spirit.” That’s a story we respond to, a story full of feeling. Then Luke, our favorite Christmas story teller, tells us what Mary experienced. He tells about her encounter with the angel Gabriel. How startled she was when he said, “Hail, favored one, the Lord is with you.” Then Luke tells us how humbly and submissively Mary responded, “I am the Lord’s servant; let it be to me as you have said.”
But imagine, if you will, how the event of Jesus birth looked from above, how it was experienced, if I can even say this, by God Himself. Philippians chapter 2, verse 5: "Your attitude should be the same as that of Messiah Jesus." The story from above: “He emptied Himself” Paul tells his version of the Christmas story, for that is what this is, from above. He begins,
Paul begins in eternity. He says, before Christ Jesus became a man he was, in his very nature, God. He existed from all eternity as the eternal son of the eternal Father, the second person of the triune Godhead, creator of heaven and earth. That, quite frankly, is unimaginable to the likes of you and me. But this eternal son did not consider the glory of His equality with the Father something to be grasped, to be held onto. When I hear that phrase I think of a little boy holding onto his toys, saying “mine, mine;” or a grown man holding onto his money, or his career or his failing physical strength, saying “mine, mine.” The eternal son didn’t do that. He emptied himself; that’s what the NASB [version of the Bible] says. He made himself nothing. The Greek word is kenosis. There has been much ink spilt by theologians in an effort to explain what this self-emptying of God could possibly mean. But at least it means what Paul says it means in the verses that follow. It means the Son of God became the Son of Man. Think of Mary in that cave, with the cows nearby, mice scurrying on the ground, the smell of dung and animal urine all around and she cries out in pain and gives birth to her first born son. Now think of the infinite and eternal God becoming that baby born on that day to that young girl in that way. Hold it in your mind, if you can. The hands that flung the stars into space! I speak metaphorically because He had no hands when He spoke the worlds into existence. But He who spoke the worlds into being, and even now holds them together by His power, He was born from the womb of a woman on the hay-covered ground of a cow stall, with mice scurrying on the ground.
The story from above: “Therefore” Of course, that’s not the end of the story. Philippians chapter 2, verse 9. “Therefore and what is the “therefore” there for? It is there to identify a connection, a connection between the events recorded in the first part of this hymn and those recorded in the second:
The day is coming, and may soon be here, when the resurrected Jesus Christ will descend a second time; only that time, not to suffer on a cross but to sit upon his throne and judge the living and the dead and finally bring the Kingdom of God to earth. That’s the story from above. The story of the Messiah who has come, first, to die for our sins, and the story of the Messiah who is coming again to rule and to reign. So now let’s go back now to verse 5. There are two ways of talking about being and becoming a Christian. They’re not contradictory ways; they can fit together. But they are different.
Everyone who hears the Christmas story has a decision to make. Will you believe? Will you bow the knee and confess that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and Savior of the world? Will you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead?
Because if you will, and you do, you will be born again. The Spirit will enter your life and you will become a Christian. If you will not, then you will remain dead in your sins, cut off from God.
It turns out that this was Jesus’ preferred way of talking about faith. He spoke most often of following Him. If anyone would be my disciple he must deny himself take up his cross and follow me. “Come. Follow Me,” Jesus said to his disciples, “And I will make you real fishermen, the kind who fish for men.”
Jesus spoke of believing in him, not just in the sense of being born again, but in the sense of being on a journey, a journey of learning and obeying and following in his footsteps. A journey Jesus called being disciples. That’s what Paul is talking about in Philippians chapter 2, verse 5. He is saying that ...
then verse 5, you should become like Jesus. His attitude should become your attitude. You should follow him and especially you should follow him in his humility. “Do nothing,” verse 3 “out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others as better or more important than yourself. Don’t just look out for your own interests,” (verse 4), “but also, and especially, the interests of others.” In other words, follow Jesus as he became a servant. Follow Him even if it leads to death, at least death to your own selfish desires because God the Father will exalt you. He will raise you from the dead in Jesus’ name. Though he will not give you the name that is above every name, Perhaps being a Christian all comes back to Mary, in many ways:
Deborah Miller ended her Christmas letter with a poem, the Valley of Vision. Lord high and holy, meek and lowly, Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision, Where I live in the depths but see thee in the heights; Hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold Thy glory. Let me learn by paradox That the way down is the way up, That to be low is to be high, That the broken heart is the healed heart, That the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit, That the repenting soul is the victorious soul, That to have nothing is to posses all, That to bear the cross is to wear the crown, That to give is to receive, That the valley is the place of vision. Lord, Let me find they light in my darkness, Thy life in my death, Thy joy in my sorrow, Thy grace in my sin, Thy riches in my poverty, Thy glory in my valley. Let it be to me as you have said.
|




