Images of Christmas

Then saith Jesus to Thomas, Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side:
and be not faithless, but believing.
(St. John 20:27)

            The mere mention of the word “Christmas” probably conjures up images of trees, Santa Clauses and gifts in your mind’s eye. Perhaps if you’re feeling particularly “religious,” you might think of a babe in a manger; but for many of us, Christmas is nothing more than toys and trees and a passing, disconnected glance at the events at Bethlehem 2,000 years ago.

          That’s a shame, because Christmas isn’t about toys and trees. And it isn’t solely about the babe in a manger.

          Christmas, rightly understood, is about Bethlehem … and Galilee and Jerusalem and Calvary and the empty tomb. Christmas is about salvation and victory, and you can’t understand the holiday without understanding the whole course of Jesus’ ministry.

          In my own Advent preparations a few weeks ago, I was reading a book of sermons by Dr. Gordon Reed entitled Christmas: Triumph over Tragedy. Dr. Reed had composed the book for a grieving family, for whom – perhaps like you – this otherwise-joyous time of year was saturated with sadness.

          I was captivated by one word Dr. Reed mentioned in an early chapter. It’s a word you and I read every year in the Christmas narratives of Scripture, spoken by Simeon to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Simeon promised Mary that her own soul would be pierced by the life and ministry of her Son.

          Pierced. Not the word you and I usually associate with Christmas.

          As I read the chapter, my mind fixed itself on the most-momentous piercing in all of space, time and history: the crucifixion of our Lord Jesus Christ at Calvary.

          Our reading tonight probably wasn’t what you would anticipate just a few days from the Feast of the Nativity. It’s the famous “Doubting Thomas” passage in which our Lord Jesus Christ ministers to Thomas as only the Good Shepherd could. You recall how Thomas protested – in the most-vigorous Greek possible, by the way – that he in no way would believe Jesus was alive unless he saw and touched Jesus’ wounds and thrust his hands into Jesus’ side. Jesus, presumably without anyone mentioning Thomas’ request to him, appeared a week later to his disciples miraculously (his glorified body was not limited as are our present bodies) and invited Thomas to see, touch and feel. Just as Thomas had demanded days before. And of course Thomas’ response was breathtaking: “My Lord and my God!”

          In the same way, you might have your doubts this evening – not that Jesus lives, but that he understands your pain. Or that he can help. Or that life will ever be really worth living again after your loss.

          Just as with Thomas, Jesus invites you to see his wounds, to touch them by faith – and to let his glorified body be your image of Christmas.

          If Jesus had not suffered and risen again, his gracious invitation to come unto him and to find refreshment in him would have been without substance. To be sure, it’s a wonderful promise: come to him, you who are weighed down by your shame and sin and past and fears, and find refreshment in him. But it would be an empty promise if he were not the Suffering Servant who also is the victorious Lord.

          It’s striking that Jesus still bore those wounds in his glorified body. If you and I were going to a victory celebration, we’d probably spiff ourselves up, hide all our sore spots and try to appear immaculate.

          Not Jesus. His glory is in his wounds – and in his triumph over them.

          With all due respect and love to you, the wounds you (and I) face in this life – while sometimes bruising and lingering – cannot compare to the humiliation of the Lord Jesus Christ. He who knew only glory came to this sin-shattered world for a time to procure your salvation, to live the perfect life you could not. He who knew nothing but perfect intimacy with his Father from all eternity had that intimacy broken, even for a short but agonizing season, as he endured the full brunt of God’s wrath at Calvary for your sins. Christ’s agony lies beyond the scope of our comprehension.

          Yet Jesus triumphed, being raised to life for our justification and to die no more. Sin and death could not hold him captive. His glorified body was proof of the triumph of God over sin, death and hell.

          And his glorified body still bore the marks of his redeeming work for you and for me.

          This Christmas, as you work through your own struggles and sadnesses, take comfort that the Lord Jesus Christ is not alien to the pains of this fallen world. Take comfort also that the pains of this fallen world did not triumph over him. Rather, he suffered the full brunt of hell so that all you who believe on him might have the sure promise of heaven, and of the heavenly life now on earth.

          The word “Christmas” tends to evoke images of trees and of presents and of all the trappings.

          May your image of Christmas be of Jesus’ obedience and victory: of his rich, visible wounds in his triumphant body. In your doubt, look to his glorified body – and rejoice.