Good News of Great Joy
Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Luke 2:10
Older translations sometimes render “Good News” here as “Glad tidings.” We don’t use words of gladness much, so I sometimes wonder if the “glad tidings” in our mind look more like jolly christmas cheer than a subversive gladness and joy. Do we simply say, “fear not! It’s Christmastime!” or is it the reality that the incarnation invites us to a holy exchange of every bit of darkness for the dawning of Light.
Last week I led a retreat which ended with a time of commissioning worship. To close our time, I shared that we would be writing blessings for each person.
“Awwwwwww,” two of the participants exclaimed.
NO. no. no. no! If it makes you say, “awww,” then rewrite it. A blessing is something much deeper than that, saying yes to the work of God in another.
“Awww” is flattery and that puffs up for a moment. A blessing is something to hold onto, a sustaining word.
This is the same response I have to sentimentality entering our celebration of the incarnation.
Sentimental: weakly emotional; mawkishly susceptible or tender
Mawkish: characterized by sickly sentimentality; weakly emotional; having a mildly sickening flavor; slightly nauseating.
“Little Lord Jesus no crying He makes…” “Mary did you know…”
NO. no. no. no. The truth is that a cheerful “don’t be afraid!” puffs up but it will not sustain.
The Fear Not of The Good News is the announcement of the end of the reign of darkness, fear, and death. In the incarnation, Jesus exchanged the rights of Heaven to give us the reality of heaven on earth. The gladness of the story of God is an oil poured out in exchange for mourning.
This season is one to marvel at the reality that the Creator of all now has a body; Ancient of Days entered time; the all powerful One became a helpless infant. Because Jesus entered our story we can now know the exchange of heaven in our lives—we can leave our despair to know His joy and His power formed in our weakness. Fear that once enslaved exchanged for hope.
The final stanza of Luci Shaw’s poem “A Blessing for the New Baby”:
And now, as the night of this world folds you in
to brutal frost (the barnyard smell strong as sin),
and as Joseph, weary with unwelcome and relief, his hands
bloody from your birth, spreads his thin cloak
around you both, we doubly bless you, Baby,
as you are acquainted, for the first time, with our grief.
The danger of a sentimental Christmas is that we trivialize and sanitize the incarnation. Where is a bloody Joseph in our whitewashed nativity scenes?
Singing songs about a baby that didn’t cry robs us of the Truth that Jesus enters our stories in the midst of our weeping.
Stripping the story of its grit and depth inhibits true joy. The incarnation declares that a dawning occurred—joy comes in the morning!
May the raw grit of the story of the incarnation usher you into true gladness this Advent.