Read Luke 2:1-20.
The waiting is over. The Child has been born. And we rejoice. A silent night has become a holy night. All is calm as all becomes bright with hope.
As we peek over the side of the cradle, and look at the Peace Child, we feel peace. God’s great kingdom begins with this child. And this child will have authority over that kingdom. For it is as Isaiah wrote, “Authority rests upon his shoulders.” (Isaiah 9:6)
It is the authority to heal the blind and the lame.
It is the authority to raise the dead.
It is the authority to forgive sins.
It is the authority that welcomes the poor and the oppressed. The outcast and the “other.”
It is this authority that will cause those in authority to question him and plot against him. It is this authority that will create tension in the religious and political realms. It is this authority that will be the cause of the greatest weight on his shoulders – that of the cross.
And it starts here, in this cradle, with these little, infant shoulders. It begins with God putting on flesh. It begins with the welcoming of the shepherds – the poorest and often despised in their day. It begins here in the lowliest of places. It begins in the stillness of the night. It begins in a most unexpected way.
This little infant has the authority to bring peace on earth.
And when we look around the world and see the places (read: the hearts) where Jesus reigns, we find peace. The abusive father who turns to Jesus’ authority instead of that of the bottle, finds peace. The sister who turns to Jesus’ authority instead of her own stubbornness, finds peace. The hateful speech of a neighbor who turns to Jesus’ authority instead of that of the tradition he claims, finds peace.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of our greatest theologians of the 20th century, told a German-speaking congregation in Havana, Cuba on December 21, 1930 in a sermon:
But now it is true that in three days, Christmas will come once again. The great transformation will once again happen. God would have it so. Out of the waiting, hoping, longing world, a world will come in which the promise is given. All crying will be stilled. No tears shall flow. No lonely sorrow shall afflict us anymore, or threaten.
The great transformation will bring peace. And it starts at the cradle.
As we peek over the cradle this Christmas at the infant Christ, let us remember that the weight of the world with all of its brokenness and sin is on his little shoulders. As we peek into the cradle, and look into his eyes of love, remember that Jesus does not bring peace by force, but by invitation. When we invite Christ into the dark places (read: hearts), peace will follow.