Heaven Touching Earth

Heaven Touching Earth
Luke 2: 1 – 20
December 24, 2024
Christmas Eve, 4:00pm

I am a great lover of Christmas traditions. I enjoy the Hallmark Christmas movies. I look forward to the traditional Christmas animated shows like A Charlie Brown Christmas or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. C’mon, who hasn’t felt like an inhabitant of the Island of Misfit Toys at some point in their life? Becky and I watched It’s A Wonderful Life just a few nights ago. C’mon, at this time of year, don’t we think about angels and wings when we hear a bell ring?

I always enjoyed putting up Christmas lights. Our daughter, and later their husbands, would spend most of the day after Thanksgiving putting up our lights, and we wouldn’t take them down until after Epiphany Sunday. I never understood everybody tearing things down or setting Christmas trees out to be picked up just a few days after Christmas.

I just love Christmas traditions.

One of those, at least for our family, is watching the 1966 animated version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. We have added the Jim Carrey movie version as well to the play list. I like the Jim Carrey version because it gives us the origin story of how the Grinch became the Grinch. He wasn’t necessarily born like that, although certainly he had his issues. But being mocked and ridiculed for a gift he brings warps and twists his soul. The Grinch became the Grinch as a young boy.

We could probably sing this song together; it is so well known. Can’t you just hear that wonderful, deep voice:

“You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch. You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus; you're as charming as an eel.
Mr. Grinch. You're a bad banana, with a greasy black peel.
You're a monster, Mr. Grinch. Your heart's an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders; you've got garlic in your soul.
Mr. Grinch. I wouldn't touch you, with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole.
You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch. You have termites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness, of a seasick crocodile.
Mr. Grinch. Given the choice between the two of you
I'd take the seasick crocodile.”
 
Yes, the Grinch hates Christmas. Merriment and presents, lights and festivities—they are all linked, in the mind of the Grinch, to a horrible time, a hurtful time, a time that results in the Grinch as an isolated hermit stewing in his own hatred and hurt.
 
You know how the story goes. The Grinch has had it. He has heard one too many carols sang; he is tired of Christmas lights shining throughout Whoville. He decides to steal what he thinks Christmas is all about.
 
And so he takes it all. Presents, lights, trees, ornaments. He takes their food, their drink—everything that he thinks Christmas is all about. It all goes loaded up into a sleigh—every Christmas in Whoville—and Max, poor Max the little dog of the Grinch, hauls it all back to his lair atop the mountain.
 
The Grinch reclines in his chair, exhausted but pleased with his work. And then, do you remember what happens? The Whos down in Whoville gather in the center of town, holding hands as they circle their town tree that has had every light and ornament removed. And they sing. They sing of Christmas—and the reason for it. They sing—devoid of all gifts—but are still thankful for the gift of Christmas—Jesus.
 
The Grinch hears them and is absolutely confused. He had taken every material thing that the Whos in Whoville had used to celebrate Christmas.
 
“He hadn’t stopped Christmas from coming, it came.
Somehow or other it came just the same.
And the Grinch with his Grinch feet ice-cold in the snow,
stood puzzling and puzzling. How could it be so?
 
It came without ribbons. It came without tags.
It came without packages, boxes, or bags.
He puzzled and puzzled ‘till his puzzler was sore,
then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before.
 
Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store.
Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”
 
The Grinch moves beyond hate; he moves beyond his bitterness. The Grinch begins to push hurtful memories back into the past. The Grinch discovers—clearly for the first time—that Christmas is not about us. It is about Jesus.
 
We give gifts to those we care about, imitating the generous gift-giving nature of the God who gave us Jesus. We put up lights, we sponsor parties as acts of joy and celebration for God’s decisive movement in history. We run ourselves ragged—sometimes—forgetting that all of the festivities that surround Christmas are NOT Christmas—they only point us to, as the Grinch says it, that which is a little bit more.
 
Friends, I pray that you have a wonderful, joyous Christmas. I pray that you enjoy every ribbon, light, tag, every package, box, or bag; every cookie, every meal, every opportunity that you have to receive love and share love.
 
But I also pray that we learn a lesson from the Grinch. Christmas is just a little bit more. I pray that your Christmas would be filled with the love, joy, and grace of God. I pray that your Christmas activities would point you to Jesus, who came that we might have life. That gift of love is meant to be received and shared. Amen.