Is There Room Tonight?                                                Rev. Tracey Davenport

Luke 2:1-20                                                                   Christmas Eve 2007

          Bible scholars tell us that the first stories that circulated about Jesus were of his death and resurrection.  Resurrection was the pivotal event that inspired the apostles and launched the Christian faith.  The incredible truth that Jesus, crucified, dead, and buried, was alive was too good not to proclaim.  And so the church of Jesus Christ was born, with a story of the death-defeating power of God in Jesus Christ.  But, despite the testimony of the evangelists and Jesus’ appearance to over 500 witnesses before his ascension, many did not believe.  There seemed to be for some no room in the empire for a new monotheistic religion among many gods, and certainly not for a claim of resurrection concerning a Jewish rabbi some considered crazy.  Today in our society there seems to be no room for Christian religious expression and any claims about salvation coming through Jesus are seen as exclusivist, arrogant and even hateful.

          The next set of stories told and written about Jesus were about his life and ministry.  Eyewitnesses told about Jesus healing the sick, feeding the multitudes, exorcising demons, walking on water, and raising the dead. They told that he challenged the religious elite and ate with tax collectors and sinners.  They told how he welcomed children and proclaimed good news to all who would hear it.  They told how he claimed to be God and forgive sins.  Surely if some were hesitant to believe the resurrection, Jesus’ life would speak so strongly that the resurrection would make sense.  His character of love would win over those who initially rejected him.  But some would not hear. There was no room for this Messiah.  The power of the Sadducees and Pharisees was well established with the people and with Rome.  Jesus did not fit into their system.  Today, in an age where science is king, there is little room for miracles.  Today it is vogue to question the testimony about the events in Jesus’ life and even make up stories about him to sell novels. There is no room for a man who is God.  Today, people seem to listen to the loudest, most obnoxious peddlers of theology or follow entertainers.  We prefer strong, dictatorial leaders who easily say in the boardroom, “You’re fired!”  There is no room for a man who is good, loving and kind as he was.  There is no room for humble servant who washes disciples’ feet. 

          The last stories to be circulated about Jesus were those of his birth.  A long foretold event finally came to pass.  A virgin conceived and bore a Son who is Emmanuel:  God with us.  Shepherds and wise visitors from Persia got the message, from angels and a star.  Surely a God who arrived so simply, so humbly in our midst would be welcomed.  But, there was no room in the inn.  The innkeeper could only do so many things at once.  Bethlehem was overwhelmed with guests and chores.   There was no room in the Roman Empire for a baby king who threatened Herod’s throne.  Today there is no room for such a humble God.  We are busy, too busy, to notice his presence.  We have other allegiances that force their way into our lives.

          The reason we keep telling these stores, the Easter story, the stories of Jesus’ life, and the Christmas story, is that those of us who believe know that whenever the story is retold, there is a chance that someone will really hear it and believe, opening their heart and mind to the presence of the living God.  This night is special.  Christmas Eve draws hearts to God like no other night.  On this night, soldiers stop their fighting, enemies share a smile and a handshake, families gather, and the love of God seems more tangible than on other nights.   We come to worship this night not to hear something new, but to hear the Christmas story, the story of our humble God who comes to us as a tiny baby, that somehow still awakens in us an overwhelming sense of peace and goodwill, and fuels our faith.  A God who comes to us humbly, as one of us, to share our life with us, is a God we want to know, to draw close to, to serve and to worship.

            The story is told of a young boy in a nativity play who, as the Innkeeper, had only one line: We have no room!  He rehearsed and rehearsed as this role challenged his theatrical abilities.  He was ready.  During the performance, Joseph and Mary knocked on his door and he expertly delivered his one line:  We have no room!  Joseph and Mary, more accomplished actors, frowned, bowed their heads and turned away, Mary wiping a tear from her eye.  The young boy was so moved by their plight he yelled, “Wait!  You can have my room!”  The story of Christmas speaks to everyone who will hear it encouraging us to make room in our lives for Jesus.

More than 40 years ago, a poor young mother with four children showed up at a church in New Orleans.  Her husband had a reputation as a difficult man, but he never prevented her from going to church. It was her only escape.  She sat in the balcony. She says she didn't fit in.  This church was a well-to-do church, and she lived in a trailer on the other side of the canal. But it was the nearest church on the bus line.  On Christmas Eve, she bundled her children up and they came to church once more.  She didn't know what she was looking for, she said. The music was nice, and she welcomed a few minutes of quiet in her troubled life. 

Then, something happened.  This tiny woman who felt so lost and insignificant in a large city far from home found a place for herself at the manger. "It was as if God turned on a light switch in my heart," she'd say, describing her realization that Christ was born to be not only the Savior of the whole world, but her Savior, too. "That's when I believed. Christmas Eve, right up there," she'd say, pointing to the balcony seat 40 feet from her regular third-row pew. She became "Miz Lu," the director of their weekday preschool, surrogate mother to hundreds of children across the years, their own tiny Mother Teresa embodying Christ's love to a needy community, all because on one Christmas Eve forty years ago, she made room for Jesus in her life.

Isn’t it silly when we believe we don’t have room for God?  The week before Christmas is the second busiest week of the year for pastors, and it was no different in 2005.  Time was running out.  On the 23^rd of Dec my number one priority was to finish my Christmas Eve sermon.  I needed to make two quick hospital visits in downtown Atlanta that morning, and then rush back to office to work on my sermon.

          The pastoral care was not as speedy as I had hoped.  I stayed an hour at each bedside. I would normally never stay that long, afraid of exhausting the patient, but when someone honors me by sharing their life and their love for God with me, I cannot cut it short.  By then it was lunchtime.  I ran over to California Pizza Kitchen.  It would be a quick, but healthy, salad lunch, and then I would run back to the church to write my sermon.  I sat at the counter where I could get quick service.  Unfortunately, the person at the counter next to me spoke to me. “Great,” I thought, “I need to shove this down and run and she wants to talk.”  Talk we did, for an hour.  We talked about God and the church and her bad past experience with a church.  I encouraged her faith and invited her to try a Presbyterian church where she lived.  I believe the Lord put her in my path that day, to make sure she would go to church and hear the Christmas story the next night.

          But now I was late.  I still had a few hours of daylight to work on my sermon, but the thought popped into my head that I needed a few things from Whole Foods for Christmas Eve and I was right nearby. While downtown, I could stop and save myself a trip the next day.  I shopped quickly, for once in my life chose the quick line at the supermarket, and loaded my groceries ready to hurry home, when I couldn’t find my keys.  I soon realized they were with my groceries in the trunk of my car, which was locked.  Jack and the girls had gone to a movie that afternoon and so their cell phones were off.  I had to call a locksmith.  Dave the locksmith was a very nice man.  We had a conversation about God, which he initiated.  I know the Lord put him in my path that day, so he could hear the story of Christmas.

          At Christmastime, I didn’t have room for what God planned.  God made me make room for him and his people.  God made me make room, so that I could practice what I preached.  The sermon was written, the house cleaned, and the food all prepared in plenty of time. 

          The amazing thing about Christmas is that even though we and the world think we have no room, God still comes.  God comes in Jesus Christ to dwell among us, to bless us, to love us.  Tonight we celebrate that humble coming.  Will there be room?  Will tonight be the night that the music or the holy quiet or the story breaks through that last wall and we believe like we never have before?  Will tonight be the night that our hearts open and we allow Jesus in for the first time?  Will tonight be the night we believe in a deeper way that God is with us in Jesus Christ?  Will tonight be the night that that part of our heart, that bitter or cold part, is finally warmed by the love shown in this baby?  Will tonight be the night that we see what God has done for us, and we respond with worship and thanksgiving, and with lives of service to Him?  There was no room in the inn.  Will there be room in our hearts and lives for Jesus tonight?

Holy Child of Bethlehem, come to us.  We open wide the doors to our hearts.  Come, let your love shine in us to ease our fears and calm our worry. Come, fill us with a joy that knows no boundaries. Come, fill us with light that brightens every corner of darkness.  Holy Child of Bethlehem, come to us again. Lift us from the routine into the splendor of your holy night; carry us away from the extravagant into the simple wonder of your humble birth.  Holy Child of Bethlehem, come to us; be born in us. Even now.  Amen.