Preaching Text:  Luke 2: 1-14  (NRSV)

This week and this evening, images of faith, scripture and family coalesce together.  Many of these images are predictable:  a christmas tree, a nativity scene, wreaths and garlands, stars and candles.  Sometimes our own images enter into the mix in surprising ways. You, and the church in general, probably do not associate Moses and the burning bush as a Christmas image.  Moses tending to the flock and sees a bush burning without being consumed.  Take off your sandals, for the ground you stand on is holy ground.  Starting with that bush, God sent his servant to save his people. 

This particular image started floating around my consciousness on Sunday.  The burning bush is a picture from my childhood from a children's bible of my childhood.  And this children' bible was a Christmas gift from my grandfather, Justin McCarty.  I would have been around 8 years old.  (Thankfully perhaps, I cannot remember my reaction that young to getting a Bible for Christmas.)

I do remember my mother reading the story of Moses.  I wanted her to start on the page with the burning bush but she said we needed to go to the start of the story of the baby Moses being hidden in the basket and saved by the Pharaoh's daughter.  That picture is less vivid in my memory.

We all carry with us images of scripture stories and some moment when the stories of the bible break into our consciousness and we remember faith in a way that we carry into our adult years.  And often enough one of these cherished moments has something to do with one of the central moments of the church year, either Easter or Christmas.  These memories like faith itself are a gift, the extent to which we find them precious may speak of our journey in relationship to and with God.  When we are a child perhaps the most precious of these stories is the birth of Jesus.

As a child, we tend to romanticize the birth of Jesus.  All the straw in the manger is sparkling clean.  The animals well behaved.  The shepherds well respected.  As adults, we come to understand given the time and circumstances, the birth of Jesus is probably not a bad birth, but nothing today that we would wish for one of our children or grandchildren.  Still, we understand the importance of humility and hiddenness as part of the birth of Jesus.  The shepherds  are guided by the angels to seek Jesus.  The kings are guided by a star and seek help from Herod (of all people, why a cruel Herod) to seek the king of kings who has been born.

After Jesus began his ministry and in those first years after his resurrection, believers and followers went back to the place of his birth.  The Roman authorities noticed the prayer services that were taking place there, and they found an ingenious way to discourage these prayerful gatherings.  They placed a statue of the emperor where they gathered, so it would appear as if these early Christians were worshiping the emperor.  Of course, this was the last impression the early Christians wanted to give.  But a couple of hundred years later, the statue marked the place in Bethlehem, a cave that would have been a shelter for animals.  And the church proclaimed it as the birthplace of Jesus. 

Tonight you come, and truth be told, someone guided you here.  Perhaps a parent brought you when you were young.  Perhaps a grandparent, who died many or not so many years ago.  Perhaps a wife brought you here when you were dating or in the first years of marriage.

Very few people just happen to wander into a worship service on Christmas Eve night.  You are guided by believers and worshipers and family who know that quietly this day and this night is about something precious.  A child who represents hope for the world.  A king whose kingdom is not found on any map of the earth.  A savior whose birth is a precious gift.

Images of faith and scripture and family and love.  This is the night we celebrate God sending his son to save his people.

Amen