Welcome Back To The Real World

"Welcome Back To The Real World"
Luke 2:21-24


One of my intentions, in my Christmas preaching, has been to look at the hallowed Christmas story with different eyes. I have tried to examine the more human side of what has happened--to Mary in particular. By doing so, by trying to develop the human interest angle, I have hoped to discover the real depth of wonder and awe and meaning within the whole birth event.

To me, the real fun is in the storytelling, imagining what it was all like, trying to put myself in someone else’s shoes and do a little daydreaming. We can toss around all the theological words and ideas that surround the birth of the Savior. Words like Incarnation, Emmanuel, Revelation and Virgin Birth. I just think we quickly get lost trying to sound scholarly. There is more meaning found in the way real people handled life situations, after they happened.

Let us daydream together.

Imagine all that has happened to Mary and Joseph up to this point, especially the birth. It has been like fantasyland. We can easily get caught up in the idea that much of the detail of what was unfolding was not that much out of the ordinary. But the truth is, nothing they had experienced was ordinary. Angels just didn’t pop in and out of the sky on a daily basis. Never had anyone seen a star that rode the sky like a chariot, and then stopped it’s movement. Magi bringing gifts were only read about in books of fairy tales. Giving birth to a baby was a family affair, mostly just the women in the family. Seldom, if ever did a throng of people unknown to the family, pack themselves into the place of birth, let alone bow down and worship the newborn.

When you add it all up, it’s more spectacular than any Steven Spielberg movie could ever be. And it really happened! No special effects. No computer enhancements. No matte painted backgrounds. No miniature sets. It all really happened, to a real couple, in a real town, over a period of months, all culminating in that singular evening. It is just so awesome, it’s hard to take it all in.

But what happened after that? Matthew’s gospel tells us that after presenting their gifts, and maybe a day or two later, the Magi “...went back to their country…” Luke’s gospel tells us that, “...the shepherds returned…” to the hillside, hopefully to find that their flock had not been scattered, shepherd-less. Who was watching the sheep, after all? Just as it had so quickly swelled, so the population of Bethlehem diminished as the people completed their task of registering for the census.

The census! We almost forgot, didn’t we? Isn’t that the reason Joseph took his pregnant wife across the countryside in the first place? Imagine, the next day after the birth, or maybe a couple of days after, Joseph standing in a bureaucratic line of people waiting to register himself and his family with the census workers.

Was it back then as it is today? Joseph stood in a line, telling everyone he is the proud father of the Savior of the world. All other parents nod at him, remembering the claims they made when their sons were born, and how those dreams became tempered in reality. They all looked at Joseph with what they through would be wizened looks, trying to communicate to him that he should enjoy his dreams now, because there will come a day when those dreams will be amended by time and experience.

After an hour in that line, Joseph finally got his turn at the registration desk. “Do you have your papers?” the officer asked, as if he’d asked that question a thousand times--which he had.
“What papers?” Joseph replied.
“Registration papers. Documents to prove who you are. Do you have a chariot license, or a birth certificate, or anything like that?”

Having none, Joseph was directed to the records office, where he was to get copies of such papers. Another hour or so in that line. Finally, he got what he needed, but it costs for the scribe to copy his records, by hand of course.

Again, after getting his copy, Joseph waited in the cash register line to pay for the copy, then back to the original registration line in which he had begun his ordeal. I mean, could it have been any different? Let’s face it--such bureaucracies have never changed. While waiting, after spending a good part of his day in lines, a young wife and new baby probably wondering where he was; and Joseph was muttering to himself that surely the father of the Savior could get some kind of preferential treatment.

And what about Mary back in the stable with her new baby? Do most of you remember what it was like with your first baby? I remember taking Ryan home. Because he was born cesarian, we had a longer stay in the hospital, and Ryan got a lot of attention since he was so huge. All kinds of help from the nurses. Taking care of a baby was easy. Then we had to come to that time where we had to put him in the car and take him home. All by ourselves. We were so green as parents that it wasn’t until we had nearly gotten through that whole first day on our own that we suddenly realized we hadn’t changed his diaper yet. We forgot we were in charge of that now.

I don’t know how Mary handled diaper changes--certainly the baby Savior of the world pooped and peed. But now that all the shepherds and wise men had gone, she was on her own--for it all. Feedings. Spit ups. Crying. More feeding. More diaper changes. Some in the middle of the night. All of it by just the normal starlight. The only serenade comes not from the angels, but from Joseph snoring by her side.

Welcome back to the real world. Life goes on. Even after such magnificent displays from nature, from the heavenly host, from royalty, and even from the poor, life must go on for Joseph and Mary and their new baby. Even though the world seemed to have stopped for one magical night, and turned its whole attention to one lowly cattle stall, the next day the rotations start again, and on with life.

A few days later they were back on the donkey and bouncing their way back to Jerusalem, so that the newborn Jesus could be circumcised according to the law of Moses. Then back home to Nazareth. Then, 33 days later, back to Jerusalem so that Mary and the baby could be proclaimed ritually clean by the priests, again so the law of Moses would be upheld.

Back to normal schedules. Back to work for Joseph in his carpenter shop. It all came and went so soon it must have been like a dream. It could have even been a bit of a let-down. Likewise, for Moses, it was the coming down off the mountaintop experience with God, receiving the Ten Commandments, only to find the people dancing around a golden bull. Roll up your sleeves; it’s back to work. Likewise for Elijah, it was the dramatic calling down of fire from heaven upon his sacrifice, in front of a host of false prophets, only to find that Queen Jezebel wasn’t impressed and wanted him dead. Off to a cave, he ran to hide.

Oh, how we might wish that our mountaintop experiences might go on forever. But God quickly directs those who have been to the highest points of spiritual ecstasy to come down and live in the real world. Again. That’s the real test.

Lord Joseph Duveen was the American head of the great art firm that bore his name. Early in 1915, Duveen was planning to send one of his experts in this country over to England to examine some ancient pottery. Passage had been booked on the Lusitania.

Off this young man sailed. The Lusitania was torpedoed. The young man was picked up after nearly five hours in the chilly Atlantic. Amazingly he was still in excellent condition. Asked how that could be, the young man replied that he had been reading about what was happening in the Atlantic in the war, and knew that the possibility of attack was real. So, before the trip, he hardened himself by sitting in a tub of ice water for up to two hours at a time.

Not many of us are prepared for the fall into the icy waters of reality, after some kind of heady experience. Surely Joseph and Mary’s life returned to some kind of normalcy which was nothing like their night in Bethlehem. But, unprepared as they must have been for that night, were they similarly unprepared for normalcy? Would life, and reality, ever really be the same for them after that night?

The great and life changing experiences we have had in life are few and far between. We could probably count them on one hand. We talk about once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. We talk about, “The day that changed my life.” We remember something that “rocked our world.” But also, when we think about it, a lot of days have come and gone since the first Christmas, since those world changing days. And maybe since the big experiences you have had.

For me, some of those big experiences were getting married. Then, 10 years later having two children. Since having children, my life hasn’t been the same. Or moving. I’ve moved 10 times, all to different places, large cities, tiny towns. Each of those moves has impacted my life and changed me. The death of someone close. My mom’s death on December 8th has changed me. I know I’m going to be different. I just don’t know what that difference is going to be yet.

How can you tell how important an experience has been for you is by seeing the impact it has had on your normal, everyday life. Yes, we must go on with the real world after such an event. If the event has any weight, we will never be quite the same. Our real world will not carry the same kinds of meanings as before.

Probably the most significant experience is our encounter with Jesus Christ. This is the mountain top of Christmas. All those involved with the first Christmas encountered the child, then went back to their real lives different people.

At some point in our lives, we must put ourselves face-to-face with Jesus Christ. At Christmas, we must go into the stable and see for ourselves. During our modern day Christmastime we must cut through all the sham and huckstering and economic reports of how much money is being spent, and decide for ourselves, “Is this the Savior or not?” Is this MY Savior or not? What does all this mean for me and my life?

Such an encounter, like it was for those at Bethlehem, can be an awesome experience. Christ can take hold of your life in a wonderful way. The beginning of that relationship, between ourselves and Jesus Christ, can be thrilling and tremendously fulfilling.

And yet, there is the time when the high spiritual encounter and our real world must meet. That is where and when we discover if the real meanings of Christmas have found a home in us.

Clark Gable was reminiscing about his relationship with his glamorous and witty wife, Carole Lombard. “One day on the ranch,” he said, “we were just being lazy, strolling around and gabbing. It was one of those beautiful California days. I said, ‘Ma, we’re awfully lucky, you and I--all this and each other too. Anything you want that we haven’t got?’ You know what she said, standing there looking as lovely as a dream? She said, ‘Well, I could use another load of manure for the south forty.’”

The real miracle of Christmas, the real task of Christmas may not be all the beauty of the day, or the unbelievable happenings that flow into and out of it with all their mystery. Instead the real miracle is integrating back into the real world of manure on the back forty, of carrying on with life with your first baby, of doing all that is expected of you in all sorts of ways, yet holding in your heart the awareness that because of Christmas, all that stuff, and you along with it, will never be quite the same.

Mary and Joseph came down from their mountaintop, because the fact that the world keeps turning made them do so. But even in the unstoppable flow of their ongoing lives, each time they looked at their child, they remembered. How could they forget a night like that.

And that’s the key. After whatever kind of hallowed experience we have with Christ, life doesn’t automatically become easy street. We find ourselves slipping back into a similar kind of existence. But there’s a difference. No matter what kind of real world we find ourselves back in, we have the wonderful and joyful realization that life will never be quite the same again because of Jesus Christ.