Home › News and Events › Page 4

Very Good

Posted on by

Genesis 1:1-2:3
March 9
David A. Davis
Jump to audio

When I was on sabbatical in 2008, I traveled to South Africa and stayed with my dear friends Malan and Marlese Nel. The Nels are worshipping with us for a month or two as they once again are in town for a study visit. A highlight of that trip to South Africa was a visit to Kruger National Park. The goal of a visitor to the park hoping to see wildlife is to find the Big 5: lion, leopard, rhinoceros, elephant, and buffalo. The Nels made a booking for me for a nighttime guided ride out into the park with a dozen or so other tourists in an open-air jeep kind of thing. It lasted a couple of hours as darkness fell. Two guides, flashlights, headlights, slowly driving on dirt roads far from the paved public access roads. Two hours. Beautiful moonlight. No animals. We didn’t see one animal.

The next day we piled into Malan’s car, for what we used to describe to our kids as “a car hike”. Driving all through the park along with other cars weaving through the park. By the end of that several-hour car hike, we saw all of the Big 5 and a whole lot more of the animals of God’s creation. The truth is that Malan and Marlese always, always saw the animals before I did. Well, other than the elephant herd crossing the road that was hard to miss. The stunning birds up in a tree, the lion to see through the trees, the rhino in the water with nothing showing but his snout. The baby elephant is being hidden and protected by the grown-ups. They had the eyes, the expectation, the experience of being a witness to the beauty of God’s creation. And they helped me to see, hear, and experience that beauty. They gifted me with a glimpse of the awe and wonder of God’s creation.

That’s how we ought to read Genesis 1. Side by side with those who have the eyes, the expectation, the experience, even the longing for the beauty of God’s creation. Reading the seven days of creation in a community of God’s people longing for the awe and wonder of the very goodness of all that God has done.

Genesis 1:1-2:3

            Reading Genesis 1 together with awe and wonder. Reading Genesis 1 together, as Jesus would say, with the ears to hear. Folks read Genesis 1 in all kinds of ways, for all kinds of reasons. But what if you and I read Genesis 1 together to sort of press the reset button on the awe and wonder place in your soul. The awe and wonder for all that God has done. Like our forebearers in faith, who wanted to turn from the worship of many Gods and the plethora of idols, and offer a witness to the one God of all creation, the One God who made heaven and earth, that same God who gives breath to all humankind. Genesis 1; it’s a kind of palette cleanser. Allowing you to rinse after drinking from the world’s firehose of idolatry and chaos and darkness and destruction. A bit of refreshment for the sacred imagine. Taking in the beauty of God’s creation where the light arose out of the darkness. Once again ponder all the good of God’s creation and receive with awe and wonder the promise and the knowledge that you have been created in the image of God. And that, like all of creation, you belong to God, and you are precious in God’s sight. “God saw everything that God had made, and indeed, it was very good.” 

            Years ago, I invited Professor Paul Rorem to give about 20 of my colleagues from around the country a tour of some of the religious art in the Princeton University Museum.  A frequent leader of adults here at Nassau Church, Dr. Rorem is a retired professor of European church history. Looking at a piece of stunning artwork with Paul Rorem is sort of like driving through the Kruger Park with the Nels. He would point out details in the art that the unexpected, inexperienced eye could so easily miss. Sometimes, with a laser pointer directed a large work up on the wall. Other times with his pinky finger pointing out the smallest of detail. After several of these experiences with Dr. Rorem over the years, I have observed his practice of allowing and inviting, the community of observers gathered around him to take time with a piece of art and not rush.  Paul always asks the group to look not just at the beauty of the art but to search for the theological takeaways of the art. He would step away from the piece and allow the group standing together to search for the theological symbolism, to note the smallest of details, and ponder what the artist was trying to say about God, God’s promise, and the place of God’s people in that promise.

Reading Genesis 1 together and pondering what it says about God, God’s promise and the place of God’s people in that promise. God the artist, sculpting a creation that reflects God’s own goodness. Humankind was created in God’s image, in God’s likeness, blessed by God to fill and rule the earth. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Even before God stepped back to rest on the seventh day, “God saw everything that God had made and indeed, it was very good.”  Very good. Indeed.

I made a rookie mistake this week at lunch with Dr. Nate Stucky. I told him my sermon title for this morning was “Very Good”.  He asked me what was “very good.” I knew right away it was a trap question, and I was going to blow it. “Well, it comes after God created humankind.” Nate rose up in his chair but across the table. His face was equal parts shock, dismay, and then disappointment in his pastor. “That’s the big mistake everyone makes”, he said. Very good is not just a reference to humankind.  God saw everything, everything, EVERYTHING God made and indeed, it was very good.” That is one mistake I won’t repeat again. I promise.

Here is where we take a few steps back from the work of art and ponder. Everything God made was very good. Everything. Very good. Humankind was created in God’s image, God’s likeness. On day 6, God brings the children of God into the family business. Humankind is blessed by God and entrusted with creation, to be god-like in relationship to the very goodness of creation. To be in relationship to creation in a way that reflects the Creator and the Creator’s goodness. To somehow rule the very good earth in a god-like way. Rule like God rules.

As we stand here together a few steps back, however, those words still leap off the canvas of the text. Subdue. Dominion. Perhaps the frailty of language is what also comes into view as well. Words that seem inconsistent with our theological learnings. Because words like subdue and dominion cannot be softened or explained away in the Hebrew. Scholars point out in Hebrew, the connotations are even stronger and not very nice. Perhaps the words fail us in trying to ponder not just the artistry and beauty of God, the very good of God. But also fail us as we try to ponder humankind in relationship to God and to that god-like relationship to creation. Words not just coming up short in terms of theological imagination. But words foreshadowing and perhaps in the history of interpretation even contributing in some way to the harm humankind has done and continues to do to God’s “very good” creation. Words that land more like scars in the artwork. Or better said, a lasting echo that ought to sound like a trumpet’s call to humankind to be more god-like when it comes to God’s creation.

Reading Genesis 1 together not just in awe and wonder but in lament as well. Pondering the theological takeaways of the art that tells of God creating, of humankind being created in the image of God, of humanity’s relationship to all that God has created. Very good. Indeed. Reading Genesis 1 together and sparking our collective sacred imagination. Push the reset button for your soul when it comes to awe and wonder and lament. Awe and wonder and lament. While it sounds a bit like a title of a book by Anne Lamont. It also sounds a lot like what it means to be a child of God living in the in-between of death and resurrection. It sounds like what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ pretty much every day. Awe, wonder, and lament all mashed up. And still morning comes after the evening. Light still shines in the dark. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Very good. And you and I, we cling to, proclaim, and dare to believe the impossible. The resurrection promise that darkness shall never, ever, conquer the light of God.

Come to the Table this morning. It is the Risen Christ who invites. We take this bread, this juice. We take the elements of God’s creation and we feast on Christ and his life, death, and resurrection. We are nurtured here at this table by the impossible. For the God of creation is the the same God who authored salvation in and through Jesus Christ and by God’s grace and in God’s love, claimed us as God’s own beloved children. God’s new creation. “If anyone who is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to Godself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation….So we are ambassadors for Christ. God making God’s appeal through us.” (II Cor 5)

God is blessing humankind and entrusting us to reflect God’s very goodness, by God’s grace and in the power of the Spirit, to dare to be god-like in our relationship with all that God has done. Yes, impossible. But remember what Gabriel said to Mary. “Nothing will be impossible with God.”  Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Very Good, Indeed.

 

#MissionMonday – Housing Initiatives of Princeton

Posted on by

Last Sunday we heard about Housing Initiatives of Princeton (HIP)’s great work and were invited to their Spring Gathering in May. Nassau is proud to partner with HIP to prevent the eviction of our neighbors and provide transitional housing to stabilize families and individuals as they experience housing disruption.

More information: housinginitiativesofprinceton.org

Called to the Impossible: Life through Death

Posted on by

March 9 – April 13, 2025

9:30 a.m. | Assembly Room

The call of the Gospel has always been to the impossible: resurrection. Resurrection presupposes death. It also dares to believe that death does not get the last word. A central question of this series, then, is this: In our moment, what might need to pass away so that the abundant life of Christ’s resurrection might be known?

Be linked in for Lent: each week small groups will study the same texts from a more personal and contemplative point of view, and Pastor Davis will preach them in Worship. Join us each Sunday morning as Nate Stucky leads the discussion in the Assembly Room.

Download Flyer (pdf)

Download Study Guide (pdf)

Audio recordings will be posted below each class description.

Nate Stucky serves as Director of the Farminary Project at Princeton Theological Seminary. He grew up on a farm in Kansas where his love for Christian faith and agriculture first took root. After earning a BA in Music from Bethel College (KS), Stucky spent six years doing ecumenical youth ministry on the eastern shore of Maryland, and two years farming back in Kansas. After farming, Stucky earned an MDiv and a PhD (Practical Theology, Christian Education and Formation) from Princeton Theological Seminary. His scholarship explores questions of land, ecology, theology, agriculture, justice, joy, and Sabbath as they relate to theological education. He is the author of Wrestling with Rest: Inviting Youth to Discover the Gift of Sabbath. Ordained in the Mennonite Church (USA), Stucky engages Farminary work as integral to his calling to teaching ministry. Nate and Janel along with their children Joshua, Jenna, and Isaac, have been worshiping at Nassau Church since 2016.

March 9 | Genesis 1:1-2:3

Seven-Day Creation

Seven-Day Creation (Genesis 1:1-2:3) During Lent our church community will journey together through Linked-In Learning, where adult education, small groups, and our preaching life intertwine. This week, we are reflecting on the very first story of the Bible, the story that started everything. What does it mean to reflect on creation during Lent, a traditional period of grief? Further, what does it mean to reflect on the creation story in the midst of ecological devastation, as wildfires and floods cause displacement and chaos? Perhaps the story may bring us to lament, to cry out for the abundant goodness we have commodified and extracted from the earth. Perhaps it will lead us to act, to make new resolutions to protect the holy greenness of this world we share. Whatever this deeply generative text brings us this week, we will remember that there is no creation without rest. As the land rests this winter, and as the soil lies fallow before producing new growth, let us treat our bodies gently as we learn from the creative God of rest.

📷 “Seven-Day Creation” by Lin Henke, from a photograph of The Farminary Project of Princeton Theological Seminary ©2025. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

March 16 | Genesis 2:4-25

Creation, Take 2

During Lent our church community will journey together through Linked-In Learning, where adult education, small groups, and our preaching life intertwine. Our text this week gives us a different account of creation, and a new perspective on our God who plants, tends, and nurtures. The second creation account is a rich text we can use to explore our identity as humans— formed of dust, vitalized by the breath of God. But it is also a profoundly ecological text, filled with nonhuman characters such as rivers and trees. What if we read the text with newfound attention to these characters? What might be the significance of a garden full of “every kind of tree?” The garden in Eden is not just a pretty pastoral scene, but an ecologically diverse old growth forest. God plants a garden that is resilient, harmonious, and delightful in its diversity. And God puts humans there to tend and to keep the garden. This Lent, how can we live out our vocation of nurture, reflecting the example of our Creator? How can we protect mature forests and diverse ecosystems? The second creation narrative draws us into these questions, and into our calling as tenders of the garden.

📷 “Creation, Take Two” by Lin Henke, from a photograph of The Farminary Project of Princeton Theological Seminary ©2025. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

March 23 | Genesis 3-4

The Garden Story Continues

This week’s reading is a tough one. From our previous stories of creation and harmony we now see Eve and Adam, and later their children Cain and Abel, as they leave the garden and navigate being human in a complicated world. For the first time, feelings of scarcity, jealousy, and resentment are a part of our story. And these fears impact not just the human characters, but the nonhuman as well. The mature forest of Eden is replaced with thorns and thistles, sure signs of annual agriculture and thin topsoil. Soil itself shows its ability to cry out to God when it is soaked with Abel’s blood. These difficult passages invite us to sit with feelings of grief about the darker sides of our human experience. They may bring us closer to the ground, to listen to the cries of injustice that permeate our world. And yet, as we honestly face our grief, we can also find God in our midst, sewing us garments to keep us warm, and listening attentively to the voice of the soil. How might we meet the God who is both tender and just as we reflect on these stories?

📷 “The Garden Story Continues” by Lin Henke, from a photograph of The Farminary Project of Princeton Theological Seminary ©2025. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

March 30 | Exodus 16

Israelites in the Wilderness

“Gather as much as you need.” It’s an old, old lesson, and it seems as hard for us as it was for the Israelites in the wilderness. In our story this week, God provides an abundance of food for the Israrelites as they travel through the wilderness in their exodus out of Egypt. As we reflect on manna from heaven, we might slow down and look for the gifts God has given us in our own lives, especially as plants begin poking up from the ground. Our land will once again bloom with more than enough food for all— will we store, or will we share? Will we learn the lesson of our God, and the lesson passed down by those indigenous to this land, to practice an honorable harvest? This week may our reflections lead us to gratitude, and may our gratitude lead us to generosity.

📷 “Israelites in the Wilderness” by Lin Henke, from a photograph of The Farminary Project of Princeton Theological Seminary ©2025. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

April 6 | Luke 9:1-9

Jesus Sends the Twelve

In this week’s reading, Jesus sends the twelve out into the villages, to proclaim and to heal. By asking the twelve to take nothing with them, Jesus calls his followers to courageously trust the communities they enter. Through this Lenten series, as we have reflected on stories from the garden of Eden to the Israelites in the wilderness, we have repeatedly encountered humans who refused to trust in the abundance of God. We know how hard it can be to trust our neighbors, to trust strangers, to trust that there is enough. But by answering Jesus’ call to go out with nothing, the disciples take on a posture of dependence, both with their fellow humans and with the more than human world. This week, how can we lean into our dependence on others? How can we let ourselves be nourished by the God of soil and rich harvest, the God who asks for nothing in return?

📷 “Jesus Sends the Twelve” by Lin Henke, from a photograph of The Farminary Project of Princeton Theological Seminary ©2025. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

April 13 | Luke 22:1-23

The Last Supper

Remember me. We’re nearly at the end of our Lenten journey, in our sixth week of reflecting on the relationship between resurrection hope and God’s beautiful creation. As Jesus holds up the bread and the wine at the last supper, we might remember all we’ve witnessed along the way— the abundant fruit of the garden, bread in the wilderness, God’s call again and again to move into interdependence. We might remember all the ways we’ve failed to heed this call, from Abel’s blood crying out from the soil all the way to Judas, poised to betray. The Last Supper invites us into grief, and our grief lives close to hope. When we remember Jesus, we remember a long history of land and food, a history soaked in blood and blooming in possibility. Where will this remembrance take us? What is possible when we let ourselves be moved?

📷 “The Last Supper” by Lin Henke, from a photograph of The Farminary Project of Princeton Theological Seminary ©2025. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Engaging the World through Song, Study, and Service

Posted on by

Adult Education for February 2 – March 2

Sundays, 9:30 am, in the Assembly Room, unless otherwise noted

Explore how faith inspires meaningful action, deepens cultural understanding, and fosters justice and hope. Through hymn singing, historical reflections, theological insights, and community empowerment, these sessions invite participants to engage the world with compassion, courage, and purpose.

Download Flyer (pdf)

Audio recordings will be posted below each class description.

February 2 | Noel Werner

Lord, Make Me an Instrument: A Hymn Sing

Our bodies are instruments tuned for praise, singing with the Spirit and understanding, proclaiming the redeeming work of God, and carrying the Gospel into our homes, community, and world. Come for a hymn sing that celebrates songs of welcome in the midst of exclusion, courage in the midst of fear, hope in the midst of despair, love in the midst of hate, and light in the midst of darkness. Lord, make us instruments of thy peace!

Due to the interactive nature of this class, no recording was attempted.

Noel Werner

Noel Werner has been the Director of Music at Nassau Presbyterian Church since 2006. Prior to this position, he was the Minister of Music at Central Presbyterian Church in Summit, New Jersey. Noel holds degrees from Westminster Choir College, Indiana University (Bloomington), and Christian Theological Seminary (Disciples of Christ) in Indianapolis. His wife, the Rev. Wendi Werner, is the solo pastor of First Presbyterian Church at Dayton, New Jersey. They have two daughters, Sophie and Emily.

return to top

February 9 | Heath Carter

The Sense of Our Small Effort: Faithful Witness in Dangerous Times

The word “unprecedented” is often overused these days. The reality is that U.S. democracy has often been imperiled and that constellations of power in this country have often been deeply unjust. In this session we’ll delve into some examples of how those who have gone before us have engaged faithfully in dangerous times. Far from suggesting that things never change, their example underscores the stakes of even the smallest efforts for a better church and world.

Dr. Heath W. Carter is the Associate Professor of American Christianity and Director of PhD Studies at Princeton Theological Seminary. Carter is the author and/or co-editor of 4 books and is finishing another entitled On Earth as it is in Heaven: Social Christians and the Fight to End American Inequality. He is also an Editor at Large for Eerdmans Publishing Company and the senior co-editor of the Journal of Presbyterian History.

return to top

February 16 | Rose Mary Amenga-Etego

Navigating the Tensions of Belonging

Despite centuries of Christianity in Ghana (Gold Coast in 1471), Ghanaian Christians continue to struggle with what it means to be Christian while maintaining their respective family relations and cultural identities. With ethnographic interview data from an ongoing Overseas Ministries Study Center (OMSC) research project on “The interplay between Christianity and indigenous religions in Ghanaian Christian funeral rites,” I wish to share with you some of my findings on how contemporary Ghanaian Christians negotiate their dual/multiple identities whether in the homeland or diaspora.

Rose Mary Amenga-Etego (PhD) is an Associate Professor of Religious Studies, Department for the Study of Religions, University of Ghana. She obtained her PhD from the School of Divinity, University of Edinburgh, Scotland, after her BA and MPhil degrees in Religions from the University of Ghana. She is a Research Associate of the Research Institute for Theology and Religion, University of South Africa, Ghana’s Representative of the African Association for the Study of Religions and a member of the Circle of Concerned African Women Theologians. She is also an Extraordinary Minister of the Holy Eucharistic and a catechist, teaching and learning the faith together with adult English-speaking catechumens of the St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Chaplaincy in the University of Ghana campus. She is currently one of the OMSC Resident Scholars at Princeton Theological Seminary.

return to top

February 23 | Raimundo Barreto

Introducing Liberation Christianity though a Latin American Lens

Learn about liberation theology in Latin America. Barreto will introduce concepts from his forthcoming book Base Ecumenism: Latin American Contributions to Ecumenical Praxis and Theology (Augsburg Fortress, Feb 2025).

This class was not recorded.

Raimundo C. Barreto is an associate professor of World Christianity at Princeton Theological Seminary, where he has been teaching since 2014. He holds a bachelor’s degree in theology from Seminário Teológico Batista do Norte do Brasil, an MDiv degree from McAfee School of Theology at Mercer University, and a PhD in religion and society from Princeton Theological Seminary. Before coming to Princeton, he taught at various institutions in Brazil and was the director of the Division on Freedom and Justice at the Baptist World Alliance. Barreto is the author of Protesting Poverty: Protestants, Social Ethics, and the Poor in Brazil (Baylor University Press, 2023). He is the co-editor of the Journal of World Christianity and a co-covener of the Princeton World Christianity Conference.

return to top

March 2 | Jeannette Rizk

WorkWell Partnership: From Prison Pipeline to Stable Community

Founded by the Presbyterian Church of Lawrenceville, the WorkWell Partnership provides life skills and job training to people in Mercer County who have been released from prison, or whose lives have otherwise been affected by the justice system. WorkWell Executive Director Jeannette Rizk will give a short presentation, along with a board member and a WorkWell graduate, followed by a Q&A. Equipping people from underserved communities with skills, enabling them to take charge of their own destiny, removing walls—all this lies at the heart of WorkWell’s mission. Some of our most dedicated volunteers come from Nassau Presbyterian Church, which has also generously provided financial support.

Jeannette Rizk, the executive director of WorkWell,  grew up in Egypt and earned an MA in anthropology from the American University in Cairo. After a series of adventures in the field of international development: helping launch a media-production NGO, assisting in the creation of a docu-drama series on HIV awareness in the Middle East, and teaching a directing course in Sudan and Morocco, she took a job with the European Union to set up an ecotourism company for the Bedouin Jabaleya tribe in the south Sinai. This was followed by jobs in which Jeannette developed strategies to turn Egyptian women’s handicraft skills into genuine business ventures.

return to top

The Light of Glory

Posted on by

John 1:1-16
December 24
David A. Davis
Jump to audio

I have told you before, and some may remember my description of the manger scene outside the Methodist Church a few miles from where we lived in south jersey. I drove past the Chews United Methodist Church almost every day for 14 years. Every Advent and Christmas the creche was staged right next to the church sign just off an intersection that had a stoplight. It was simple manger scene. A sort of barn-like back drop, some hay strewn around, with a manger that looked a bit like a fireplace grate. The only characters were Mary and Joseph and the Babe lying in the manger. No animals. No shepherds. No Magi. Stopped at the red light in December year after year, I sort of watched Mary and Joseph age before my eyes. Their bright clothes started to fade. Their faces started to chip. Their pious gaze started to look tired. They looked weathered in more ways than one. To be honest, they looked more like big lawn ornaments. I assumed since they were about waist-high, they were meant to be kneeling. But then during one red light, I realized they had no legs. Interestingly, over the years the Baby Jesus never got older or any bigger; never seemed to fade for that matter. He was always tucked in that manger.

One morning after a stormy, windy, snowy, night, I sat at the light and saw Mary and Joseph knocked over. It was a sorry sight. Mary and Joseph like turtles turned on their backs who couldn’t get up. The hay was all blown away. Part of the barn top was flapping just a bit, waving at the morning commuters. But Jesus, Jesus was there in the manger oblivious to the chaos of the night or the absence of his adoring, watchful parents. It was when my inspecting eyes turned to the Infant Holy, Infant lowly asleep but not on the hay. I made an unfortunate discovery. I found out why Jesus had not been disturbed from sleep by the storm. The baby was secured to that fireplace grate with a chain wrapped around his ankle. Chained and padlocked the baby was.  That baby wasn’t going anywhere. That Jesus was never going to leave the manger.

You know, and as you heard, there is no Baby Jesus in the manger here in the Gospel of John.  No “Do not be Afraid; for behold, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.” No “let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place.” Here in John, all the pageant stuff is nowhere to be found. No angels. No shepherds. No Star. Not even a Mary, or a Joseph.  No babe wrapped in swaddling clothes.

            Instead of “Mary gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger”  in John “The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.” Instead of “So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying the manger” in John it is “He was in the world”.  John’s version of the babe swaddled in the manger is this: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us.” The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. The Word became flesh. The Word that was with God and was God sheltered among us. God took sanctuary in the flesh. The Word became flesh. Flesh as in flesh and blood. Flesh as in what it means to be human. Flesh as in humankind. “We have seen God’s glory…God’s only son, full of grace and full of truth”.  God’s glory is not in the heavenly host. Not a glory shone all around. No, the light of God’s glory is revealed in the grace and truth of Christ Jesus.

If you have not read David Brooks’s recent essay in the New York Times, you should find it and read it this Christmas. The title is “The Shock of Faith: It is Nothing Like I Thought it Would Be”. Brooks tells his own story of coming to faith as an adult and only in the last 10 or 15 years. He writes in a refreshingly personal and honest way. As he tries to find the words to describe both his faith and his journey to faith, he drops in quotes from scholars and theologians. But it was his own words at the very end of the piece I found most compelling. Brooks comes to the conclusion that for him,  “faith” just isn’t the right word. He writes, “The word “faith” implies possession of something, whereas I experience faith as a yearning for something beautiful that I can sense but not fully grasp. For me faith is more about longing and thirsting than knowing and possessing.” Brooks continues “Sometimes I feel pulled by a goodness that seems grand and far-off, a divine luminosity that hovers over the far horizon. Sometimes I feel pulled by concrete moments of holy delight that I witness right in front of my face — the sight of a rabbi laughing uproariously as his children pile over him during a Shabbat meal, the sight of a Catholic priest at a poor church looking radiantly to heaven as he holds the bread of Christ above his head. I’ve found that the most compelling proofs of God’s love come in moments of radical delight or radical goodness — in the example of those who serve the marginalized with postures of self-emptying love. Some days this longing for God feels like loneliness, separation from the thing desired. But mostly it feels like a venture toward something unbelievably worth wanting, some ultimate concern.”

Yearning for something beautiful that can’t be fully grasped. Longing for a goodness that is not just on some far horizon but a goodness revealed in concrete moments of holy delight right in front of our face. Compelling proof of God’s love in the example of those who serve the marginalized with postures of self-emptying love. Postures of self-emptying love. Use the word faith or not but it sounds a whole lot like a life of following the gospel that comes from the lips of the Christ Child lying in the manger tonight.

Another preacher once suggested that many seem to prefer the Jesus of the manger because he hasn’t said anything yet. Cute and cuddly is always safer than touching a leper or serving the poor or taking on the religious or forgiving a sinner or turning the other cheek or announcing a kingdom or dying and rising. Cute and cuddly is always safer than allowing your flesh to be transformed by his and knowing deep within his love for you is forever and seeing the world through his eyes and not yours. Cute and cuddly is always safer than holding the light of his glory up to the world’s darkness and then bearing witness in how you live to the wonders of his love. His love yearns to make of this old world, a new own in and through those who are his hands and feet.

Many seem to prefer a Jesus bound to the manger. When the earth aches for peace and people in far too many places in the world can’t remember a silent night, you can’t keep Jesus in the manger. When a heart somewhere near you is broken or forgiveness has become a lost art in a family or a lost soul is longing for home, you can’t just leave Jesus in the manger. When grief among those you love is real and raw, when the frailty of our humanity hits you like a truck, when death’s shout threatens to drown out resurrection hope and promise, you can’t leave Jesus in the manger. When people you love are afraid, when strangers around you live in fear, when so many aren’t sure who or what to trust, you can’t leave Jesus in the manger. When the shadows of hatred lengthen and blinding fear is stoked and the darkness of bitterness once again threatens the light, you can’t settle for a Jesus bound to the manger. When the empires of this world have run amok on power, serving the richest and most privileged while trampling on the weak and most vulnerable, those in power would of course prefer that Jesus and his gospel teaching be left shackled and drawn there in the manger. The powers and principalities of this world prefer a Baby Jesus in the manger who hasn’t said anything……yet.

But Jesus can’t be kept in the manger. Yes, the call of the light of God’s glory at Christmas is to stand and look into the manger and be overwhelmed, forever changed, by the Child’s fullness. Full of grace. Full of truth.  And to be forever moved and transformed by his enduring love that will not let you go. Full of his grace. Full of his truth. Full of his love. Kneeling at the manger tonight, earning for something beautiful that can’t be fully grasped. Longing for a goodness that is not just on some far horizon but a goodness revealed in concrete moments of holy delight right in front of our face, crazing postures of self-emptying love. As you kneel at the manger tonight, never forget that God’s call on our lives is the call to unbind Jesus from the manger and turn to change the world with the shine of his love, the glory of his love.