There are times when I’m encouraged to think that, deep down, the world doesn’t want to banish Christ from Christmas.  Deep down, the world knows it needs Christ, needs God, salvation, the presence of the glory and the assurance of the grace: light, hope, forgiveness, love from above.  They just hate to admit that need.  It makes them look so . . . foolish, so . . . weak, so . . . dependent.  Adults are supposed to be smart, capable, and independent.  And life sure can get messy.

This time of year, every year, people can see the long darkness, feel it.  It gets colder!  It doesn’t take long to begin to miss the light and the warmth.  Many mammals just sleep through the dark and cold.  Humans must live through it.  We don’t much like it.  Ever hear of Seasonal Affective Disorder?  Winter can really do a number on the soul.

So, we string up lots of lights.  We eat—a lot; we drink—a lot; we carouse.  Even as recently as two hundred years ago, Christmas celebrations were frowned upon throughout New England because of the carousing and public intoxication.  Hardly the way to lift worshipful hearts to God.  But, you know, a lot of people aren’t all that interested in lifting hearts worshipful or otherwise to God.  Salvation, sin—come on.  For some, God is primitive superstition.  There’s science, you know!  Science means we don’t have to bother with God.  Many are happy not to: He has no significant place in their lives.  Still others think He’s the most accommodating guy—just do you: God’s okay with whatever.

Such people walk in darkness.  God is a God of light.  “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; / on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned” (9:2).  Like a bright star, a way, the first light of a glorious new day.  A change.  Some just assume that darkness is all there is: choose yours.  Then a great light; God began His relationship with us with the words, “Let there be light.”  Even if you can’t recall the last time God did something in your life, you can’t really say God never acts for His people.

Isaiah continues: “You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; / they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, / as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder” (9:3).  The costly victory—all the pain, the endurance, the courage, the endless training, practicing, and battling, will have its joyful reward.  Most of us aren’t tied to the land like people have been for most of human history.  A meagre harvest would have been a very sad time, indeed: how grim winter would look, then!  But this bright light God has given us is a cause for joy like an abundant harvest, a bumper crop: life, salvation, hope, joy, peace!

We sing of God breaking every barrier down: the power of love.  Bored, unhappy, lost people turn to drugs of whatever sort—whatever will numb the hurt, produce something that might feel like happiness, even the happiness of contempt: the self-satisfied smirk that comes with knowing at least you aren’t like those people.  Karl Marx regarded religion as “the opiate of the masses.”  Marx thought he would abolish God; he was only giving the old diagnosis: the darkened human heart.  The love from above breaks down every barrier.  Love brings the beloved home.  Love saves the life of the beloved.

God has “shattered the yoke that burdens them, / the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor” (9:4).  People have definite ideas about what and who oppresses them.  God tells us we’ve got that wrong.  God has been telling us all along that people are their own worst oppressor, as they bind themselves to the yoke of sin that bends us low.  Why do people do it?  Why pursue self-destructive things?  Who says, “Well, I think I’ll just go and ruin myself”?  Christmas reminds us, though—gloriously, graciously—that it doesn’t have to be too late.  Salvation always arrives on time.

We value relationships.  There are those whom we love who have damaged the relationship.  We, also, have damaged our relationships.  Unless something radical be done, the consequences keep multiplying—haven’t you felt the tension out there, the sense that things are getting out of hand?  Contempt?  Social self-destruction?  And God is doing something.  Something is about to happen; something has got to change.  Christmas is light to remind us that God has done something radical for us.  He has given us a way, a light.  He then opens our eyes to see and changes our hearts so that we now want to take the way He has opened.

He is giving us peace, with one another and with Him.  We can have peace with one another because we have peace with Him; “Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood / will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire” (9:5).  Amen!  “And man, at war with man, hears not / The love-song which they bring; / Oh, hush the noise, ye men of strife / And hear the angels sing.”  A call to listen.  Listen to the song, listen to the Word.  Do you hear what I hear?  O come, let us adore him.  Battles will cease, and bloodshed.  No, just now, we do not see as much of that as we could wish.  Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.  Immanuel is for this very thing.

“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, / and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (9:6).  God came among us as He had never before been among us, as He had been telling us all along He would come among us, be with us, make Himself known, and save us—from what?  His judgment?  Condemnation?  He came to save us from ourselves.  He took the cross upon his shoulders.  That was a strong, heavy sign of the yoke he had borne all along his earthly journey, yoked with us, sharing our life, our thirst and hunger, our tiredness and sorrow, our fear and our joy, our love and hope.  He took that yoke and that cross to himself; no one forced it upon him.  He was lifted up to uplift us.  Beloved, every sermon that points to Jesus Christ is uplifting.  The old hymn sings it right: love lifted me, and all of us, and it will, again.  Christmas receives its full glory from Easter; let these days have their glory in you.

The one lifted up for us to lift us up now reigns.  Truly, the government is upon his shoulders, and all things, great and small, are being directed to Christ’s purpose: to give his people endurance and encouragement, a taste here of his Life, Peace, and Joy.  “Of the greatness of his government and peace,” his reign, his kingdom, “there will be no end. / He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. / The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this” (9:7).  Messiah.  His unending reign—unending because it had no beginning—no creature or event brokered this reign: God reigns everywhere always.  Messiah clarifies and displays this reality.  God is fulfilling His promise to His people.  The zeal of the Lord Almighty is zeal for all that is right, true, and good, zeal for fulfillment, for peace, for light.  These are His gifts for those who will receive Him.  There is light: light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.

My prayer for all those still stumbling around in the darkness, even on this glorious day of God’s light, is that God, in His own time, would be pleased to cause them also to yearn for the light and know God’s love.  Christmas is blessed assurance that it pleases God to do this very thing.  God gives His gift: a changed heart, a changed life, the new light of salvation.  There is no peace like God’s peace.  In Christ, be that peace, share that peace, and you will know, in fuller measure, the heights, depths, and breadth of that peace.  Give, and it will be given.

To the God of all grace, who calls you to share God’s eternal glory in union with Christ, be the power forever!