Category: Articles

Rev. Gaven M. Mize

“Things happen for a reason.” Such ambiguity never actually offers comfort to a person. What this well-meaning platitude does end up doing is cause the hearer to interject their own reason as to why this thing happened to him. It is a horrible form of self-medication. And the worse the situation, the less meaningful this phrase actually is, and the more insulting it truly is. But, we can’t just stand there in the midst of tragedy and say nothing. We want to fix what is broken. But sometimes it’s not possible. You can’t fix a crack in the heart with a hammer.

“Things happen for a reason,” just doesn’t cut it. And Christians have adopted their own version of this. It often happens when standing by the casket of a loved one. “Why did this happen?” “Sin,” says the good-hearted friend. This is, of course, correct. But it is also incomplete. Yes, Christ makes it clear that the wages of sin is death. And God never promised us that all things would be great. But, where is the hope if we stop at “sin” as the reason?

So we must not stop there. People are confronted with their sin at their death and so the craving for the Gospel is a present reality. They desperately need Christ on the cross, more than ever. And why would we ever give those who survive the saint in the coffin a false gospel in the words of “it happened for a reason.” These words imply that God has a plan that hasn’t been carried out. He took them for a reason. What could that reason be?


God’s will has already been carried out: His own Son there on the cross. He looked down on Good Friday and saw those whom He would soon save from the sin that leads to death. And nothing has changed except the tense of the verbs. You have been bought at a precious and ever-giving price. Jesus. He is the reason that we have been rescued from the grave.

The number one promise that God makes throughout Scripture is that He is with us. And He has told us where He is. The presence of God is found in the baptismal Font and on the Altar in His Body and Blood. And this reality of the forgiveness of sins doesn’t leave us as we leave the church building. It doesn’t leave us as we grow weary and tired of this wicked world. It doesn’t leave us when our eyes grow heavy in death. It doesn’t leave us ever.

God never promised that life would be easy. He didn’t promise earthly happiness. He promised His Presence. “Lo, I am with you always,” in the Supper and in the waters. We may wrestle with God over the stuff of life that rattles us and then try to hold Him to promises of glee and bliss on this earth that He never made. But in the end there is only the Incarnation and the Resurrection. And in between those there is only the crucifixion. So, when our time of dying comes, and we look around for the promises of God we will find the death of Jesus and in that death we shall find life in God.

When all else fails, which includes our hearts, there is always Christ crucified and the forgiveness from Him that flows to font and cup, upon and within us. And I’m good with the true comfort that offers.

Rev. Gaven M. Mize serves as pastor at Augustana Lutheran Church, Hickory, North Carolina.

Bethany Woelmer

Those images are still etched in my head-the picture of Christ, His eyes sunken with the weight of what is yet to come, His head pierced with thorns encircling his brow, and His own bride behind Him. Her arms are crossed and her head is down. She is clothed in a white garment that covers her and makes her beautiful-the kind of beauty that is not found within this world and the kind of beauty that is holy and pure because of Christ. And there’s another picture: the bride, with her arms still crossed and her eyes gazing at her Husband, slain and wounded on the cross, His body hanging in suspension and coming down to meet her, looking at her with eyes filled with love and mercy.

Those sounds are still ringing in my ears-the sounds of hymns that deliver such sweet Gospel, the sounds that carry the words of Christ’s bride, “Zion hears the watchmen singing / And all her heart with joy is springing; / She wakes, she rises from her gloom,” sounds that sprout forth from the faith she has been given, these sounds that blossom in such beautiful harmony and soaring melody. And there’s yet another sound, the sound of the Bridegroom himself, who “comes down all glorious, / The strong in grace, in truth victorious,” the sound of grace in the midst of suffering, triumph in the midst of war, and love in the midst of sin that fights everyday to remove this love found in Christ.

The picture of the church is a glorious one. God’s holiness, as manifest before Moses in the burning bush and in the temple before Isaiah, is full of perfection, power, and loving-kindness. It was made manifest in human form, in the person of Jesus Christ, to bring forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation to a world wounded with suffering and stricken with sin and death. God’s holiness comes from heaven to earth where He has promised: in His Word, His life-giving Body and Blood for the forgiveness of sins, His Holy Absolution, Baptism, and the preaching of the Gospel for sinners.

Sinners. That means all of us, poor and miserable, beating our breasts in utter depravity and crying out, “Lord, have mercy on me.” That means all of us, who “daily sin much and surely deserve nothing but punishment.” We have been ashamed of our nakedness since the time we were stripped of our perfectness in the Garden of Eden.

The Church. That means all of us, too, washed and cleansed in the waters of Holy Baptism, fed by the Word made flesh, and filled with the words of the sweet Gospel melody that says, “You are saved by Christ alone. He bought you with His blood. You are His Own to live under Him in His kingdom.”

The picture of the Church is a glorious one, because she is adorned with salvation. Her jewels sparkle with the light of Christ’s truth, her garments flowing with the eternal blessing of life and salvation, her robe adorning her body with righteousness as she shares in the union with God, the Three in One-this “mystic, sweet communion” in which she delights and rejoices in hope for the eternal life that is to come.

This picture is a mere glimpse and a foretaste of the fuller picture that is to come on the Last Day when the Lord will come again in triumph to bring His bride, the church, to a more perfect home in heaven. The pictures and sounds we experience here on earth that connect us to the true picture of Christ and the Church are mere fragments of the bigger picture of perfectness that we will experience when God will “take us from this valley of sorrow to Himself in heaven.” There, the picture, given to us by faith, of those bright jewels and white garments of righteousness will find its place with all the saints surrounding God’s throne of salvation. There, the sounds carried to us by words and music of glorious truth and splendor will find a place amidst the faithful warriors, triumphant soldiers, and saints of Christ whose “gleaming robes of white” shine bright within this sweet land of paradise the blest.

Here on earth, the sinful flesh needs Christ. It needs to be reminded of the image of Christ and the Church, over and over again. Such blessed imagery fills our eyes and ears with this glimpse of heaven, while our souls are forgiven time and time again by the Gospel. Here on earth, as long as suffering and sin continues, the church will always remain, because Christ will never leave us nor forsake us. He is with us every step of the way on our journey to heaven, as a true Bridegroom leads His bride, reminding her of the eternal joys yet to come when He will “wipe away every tear from her eyes” and present her as His Own to live with Him in heaven forever.


Bethany Woelmer is a member of St. John’s Lutheran in Topeka, KS.

Rev. Randy Blankschaen

“You are the same species as God.” That’s what a visiting presenter said about a month ago at Immanuel Lutheran Church of Pensacola, Florida. As I sat there, I’d like to say that you could hear a pin drop, but that wasn’t the case. What I saw instead were people who had their systems shocked. They weren’t angry or appalled. The audience didn’t disagree. It was just that the gears got jolted. We all paused. We all pondered. We all thought, “Yep. Can’t argue with that.” Of course, context is everything.

How could we disagree? St. John wrote, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). We confess Christ in the Nicene Creed: “who (that’s Jesus!) for us men and for our salvation came down from heaven and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary and was made man.” Jesus is true God. Yep. Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit. God was in the Virgin’s womb. God was in the feeding trough all swaddled up. Although He was stripped and crucified for you, Jesus didn’t take off His flesh or slough off His body when He rose from the grave. He is evermore true man. You are the same species as God.

This Christmas, take a pause. After cramming down cookies, sing a carol. After you’re done inserting silly stuff into “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” maybe attend service at your church, and hear and sing of Christ the Lord who was born for you. Receive God’s true Body and Blood under bread and wine for the forgiveness of sins, for your life, for your salvation. After all, Jesus isn’t in the manger and stall. But He is where He has promised to be.

Take a pause and take some time to ponder God’s love for you. Slugs or worms can’t say that God became what they are. But we sinner-slugs and bags of worms can. God became flesh. Jesus is true man. How honored are you? How graced are you? How much does God love you? God came down to earth from heaven so that He’s with you and you’re with Him evermore.

Merry Christmas!

Rev. Randy Blankschaen serves as pastor at Immanuel Lutheran Church, Pensacola, Florida.

Paul Soulek

Christmas, Christmas time is near
Time for toys and time for cheer
We’ve been good, but we can’t last
Hurry Christmas, hurry fast

I love Alvin and the Chipmunks as much as the next guy. But hearing “Christmas time is near” makes me think of the endless to-do lists and stress that often mark this season. Real Christmas music doesn’t direct us to holiday-themed, liturgically colored overfunctioning. It replaces “Do this!” with “It is finished!” Take a quick journey down a road of comfort and joy…

“You came to share my misery that You might share Your joy with me.” No reindeer or elves are included in Luther’s Christmas hymn From Heaven Above to Earth I Come (LSB 358). God’s love in Christ faces real challenges in a real world (Hebrews 4:14-16).

Irish hymn writer Cecil Frances Alexander served in charitable homes for the sick and destitute, so it’s no surprise that her hymn Once in Royal David’s City points out “With the poor and mean and lowly Lived on earth our Savior holy.” We sing that Christ dwells only with sinners. We qualify (Luke 5:27-32).

“For me. For me. For me. And not alone for me.” Twentieth century hymn writer Jaroslav Vajda places us in the middle of the Christmas story in his hymn Where Shepherds Lately Knelt (LSB 369). The first half of each stanza describes part of the birth of Jesus–and the second half speaks of Jesus for you (Ephesians 2:8-9).

During this season, like any other, we sing and confess finished and completed work of Jesus. Amidst all of this time’s to-dos, He is our comfort and joy–our strength, our song, and our salvation. It is finished.

O sing of Christ, whose birth made known The kindness of the Lord,
Eternal Word made flesh and bone So we could be restored.
Upon our frail humanity God’s finger chose to trace
The fullness of His deity, The icon of His grace. (LSB 362:1)

Paul Soulek serves as cantor at St. John Church and School, Seward, Nebraska.

Bethany Woelmer

“Are we wearing angel costumes tonight, Miss Bethany?” asked one of my Sunday School choir students right before the Christmas program. As much as my heart sank to tell her, “No, will not have costumes to wear,” I continued to beam with joy in the anticipation of the children’s voices during the Christmas program that afternoon. All around me the “Shepherds’ Christmas stage” was set. Parents, grandparents, friends, and neighbors flocked in like shepherds, familiar with the toils and struggles of this life. As good parents, of course, they wanted to hear their children. But as sinners, they were ready to hear the Gospel, which was proclaimed on this night from the “mouths of children…a stronghold against [God’s] enemies,” the true good news of salvation through Jesus Christ. These “shepherds” sat in the pews with nothing but empty hands, ready to hear, ready to receive.

We, like the shepherds that Christmas night, carry the weight of sin upon our shoulders, tending to the suffering and cares of this darkened world. We shudder with the coldness of our hearts, knowing that there is nothing from within ourselves that can provide warmth. Our idols cannot save us, the world cannot save us, and our own works cannot save us. We are left only to receive what comes to us outside of this world. We look for a light amidst the darkness, a rose amidst the thorns, a sign of life amidst the ever-present gloom of death, a true treasure of joy and comfort amidst the world’s own treasures of wealth and glory.

Though there were no white robes flashing with brightness, no wings hovering behind little shoulders, no sparkling gold on the children that afternoon, the words from the mouths of angels still resonated in splendor, “Peace on the earth, goodwill to men, from heaven’s all gracious King!” The children spoke of the Word made flesh, our Savior as foretold by ancient prophecies, the One who would “save us all from Satan’s power when we have gone astray.” Their music sparkled like stars and floated to the shepherds’ ears with true gift of the Gospel, and their faces lit up with joy that filled their hearts with the gift of this Baby, born to save us from our sins.

We may await the angel costumes every year, but that doesn’t mean that the “Shepherds’ Christmas stage” is set only once a year as well. Since the beginning of creation, God’s Word continues to shine everyday, and it carries the Gospel in full splendor exactly where He has promised. Shortly after the angels appeared, they directed the shepherds where the Savior was to be found. From the mouths of angels came the good news, along with the proclamation of the place in which this good news is actually present.

This “Shepherds’ Christmas stage” is set every week in the Divine Service, where we come before God as sinners with empty hands in need of forgiveness. The “Gloria” that we sing at the beginning is the message of the angels, taken from the Christmas narrative, and it proclaims the true peace given to us in Christ, who takes away the sin of the world. It directs us toward the readings of this Word made flesh, the preaching of God’s Law and Gospel for sinners, and the presence of Jesus in the Lord’s Supper-our true “Christ’s Mass” given to us as we share in the blessings of the cross.

The shepherds ran to the presence of Jesus because of the faith they had received. This faith sees Jesus’ manger as a paradise for meek souls, His humble stall as a cradle that holds heaven on earth, and the little town of Bethlehem as the place in which the true glory of God came to dwell in mercy mild. The shepherds heard and received, just like Mary and Joseph, and just like you and me.

God continues to use what is meek and lowly to reveal His glory to us. Even out of the mouths of children He continues to silence the devil and His foes, to still the broken hearts of sinners, and to turn the hearts of his faithful people from sadness into greater gladness and bliss that holds fast to the death and resurrection that we share with Christ. We approach Jesus’ manger of Himself because of the cross, and we, in the cradle of faith, share in this cradle of eternal life brought to us that Christmas night.

Whether or not there are angel costumes, the Gospel still comes as it did from the mouths of angels that Christmas night, and it sings a song of salvation more beautiful than any treasures this world holds:

O Jesus Christ,
Thy Manger Is
My paradise at which my soul reclineth.
For there, O Lord
Doth lie the Word
Made flesh for us; here in Thy grace forth shineth.

Remember thou
What glory now
The Lord prepared thee for all earthly sadness.
The angel host
Can never boast
Of greater glory, greater bliss or gladness.

The world may hold
Her wealth and gold;
But thou, my heart, keep Christ as thy true treasure.
To Him hold fast
Until at last
A crown be thine and honor in full measure.

– LSB 372:1,5,6

Bethany Woelmer is a member at St. John’s Lutheran Church in Topeka, KS, and a graduate student in church music at the University of Kansas.

Rev. Michael Keith

As I have written several times here: I love the practices that we have in the Church. I love learning about them and why we do what we do. Coming from an unchurched background, I had to learn everthing. I didn’t know anything. The truth is, as a kid, I didn’t know what a nativity scene had to do with Christmas. Christmas was about Santa. What’s with these people wearing bathrobes anyway?

There are lots of practices, observances, and traditions around this time of year. I love hearing about all the ancient practices of Christians around Christmas time. I love learning about what they mean and why we have kept observing many of them in our day. There are a lot of great practices that we find at this time of year that point us to Jesus, but here is my favorite:

It is an old practice in the Christian church to take the Christmas tree after the Christmas Season is over and make it into a cross. To do so you take all the branches off so that you have just the trunk of the tree and then you cut the trunk into two pieces–one piece roughly twice as long as the other. You then attach the shorter piece to the longer piece with either some cord or some nails making a cross. And there you have it: a cross made out of the Christmas tree. This cross is then often displayed in the church building throughout the Season of Lent.

The reason why I like this practice is because it cuts through all the sappy sentimentality that we often find at this time of year. Truth be told: I am a little Grinch-y this time of year. Christmas has truly become the most “Hallmarkiest” of holy-days. The cute little pictures of the baby Jesus laying in a cozy manger really have a way of distracting our attention away from the fact that this little baby born of the Virgin is the Lamb of God. This Jesus is the Lamb of God who was born to be the sacrificial Lamb and die for the world’s sin. Many of our favorite Christmas hymns do not shy away from this grizzly fact and point us to the cross even as we peer into the manger at Christmas. I encourage you to pay special attention to the words of the familiar hymns this year and take note of how often the cross and Jesus’ sacrificial death is mentioned. The manger without the cross leaves us with empty, sweet sentimentality and a hopeless hope that people will somehow just be nice to each other because, well, look… there is this cute baby in a manger and all .

The practice of taking the Christmas tree and fashioning a cross from it is an explicit reminder and connection that the shadow of the cross always fell on the manger. This Jesus was born to die for you.

Christmas is not about how cute and cuddly Jesus was as a baby. It’s about your dire and desperate need for a Savior from sin, death, and hell. We rejoice and sing with joy because out of His mercy God sent forth His Son, and Jesus came on a rescue mission. He was sent to rescue you from your sin. He came to rescue you from the devil’s grips. He came to rescue you from eternal fire. He came to rescue you from yourself.

And He has accomplished His rescue of you. It is finished. His life, death on the cross, and His resurrection has saved you. We rejoice and sing that we have been saved and that our Savior has come and we are safe with Him! In the waters of holy Baptism He has rescued you from the curse, far as it is found. In the words of Holy Absolution you hear words of truth and grace spoken to you from your Savior through the pastor. As you kneel at the altar, your incarnate Lord comes to you with His Body and Blood for the forgiveness of sins–and we wonder at His love.

Rev. Michael Keith serves as pastor at St. Matthew Lutheran Church and SML Christian Academy in Stony Plain, Alberta, Canada. He can be reached at keith@st-matthew.com.

Rev. Jacob Ehrhard

What a ridiculous thing to say: God is born. A contradiction of terms. God is eternal. Without beginning. How can He be born? There must be some divine trick, some heavenly illusion at work at Christmas. But against all human reason, the angel appears to Mary and says, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Highest will overshadow you; therefore, also, that Holy One who is to be born will be called the Son of God” (Luke 1:35 NKJV). No tricks here, just the promise of the ages coming to its fulfillment in time: the Seed of the woman born to crush the serpent’s head (Genesis 3:15).

The question, “Who is Jesus?” was one that kept coming up in the first 400 years of the New Testament church’s history. Four church-wide councils were held to work out this question based upon the witness of Scripture. The statements of these ancient church councils were incorporated into the Lutheran Confessions. The Lutheran church is not a new church, but a continuation of the one, holy, catholic (universal), and apostolic church, and we boldly confess what the church has always confessed concerning our Lord, Jesus Christ.

The Formula of Concord takes up the issue of the person of Christ in its eighth article, and gives us a little Christmas cheer right in the middle:

We believe, teach, and confess that God is man and man is God. This could not be the case if the divine and human natures has (in deed and in truth) absolutely no communion with each other. For how could the man, the Son of Mary, in truth be called or be God, or the Son of God the Most High, if His humanity were not personally united with the Son of God? How could He have no real communion (that is, in deed and in truth) with the Most High, but only share in God’s name? So we believe, teach, and confess that Mary conceived and bore not merely a man and no more, but God’s true Son. Therefore, she also is rightly called and truly is “the mother of God.”

God is born. It’s a ridiculous thing to say according to human reason. But God often does foolish things to put to shame the wise in the world. And His foolishness is wiser than the wisdom of men. Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God-who is Himself God-unites Himself so completely with our human nature that the virgin who bore Him receives the title, “the mother of God.” This is not so much to teach us about who Mary is, but about who Jesus is. The nature of God is so intimately united with the nature of man that now of Jesus it can be said, “God is born.”

But even more importantly, because of this personal union of the divine and human natures in Jesus Christ, it can also be said, “God died.” St. Paul writes to the Corinthians: “they crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Corinthians 2:8). If it was only a man, or only human nature that was crucified, then it would do us no good. But it was no mere man who hung bleeding on the cross. God has purchased us with His own blood (Acts 20:28). No blood except God’s blood could pay such a price.

The great mystery of the Incarnation, of God becoming flesh-which we celebrate this holy day-has one last blessing for us. Because Jesus is risen from the dead and ascended to heaven to sit at the Father’s right hand, this means human nature is also exalted. As true as it is that God was born on that first Christmas, so it is also true now that a man sits at God’s right hand. This man feeds you His Body and Blood-the same Body and Blood born of His virgin mother, the same body that hung on the cross, the same blood that spilled from His veins. And as you join Him in this holy Supper, you also are raised to new life and exalted with the Man who is also God.

Rev. Jacob Ehrhard is pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in New Haven, Missouri.

Rev. Christopher Raffa

Life is fragile. Hold onto it too hard and fiercely and you will break it. Hold it too softly and detached and you will miss its giftedness. Tonight almighty God descends to fragile human flesh. Christmas Eve is a fragile flood of emotions fraying our flesh into its greatest need. So much is wrapped up into this night. The jumbled and incriminating past is often relived-its trail of tears an ocean so deep. The present is grasped by any means necessary, by a toy, a cookie, a smile, a hug, a kiss next to the Christmas tree. The future is pregnant with both joy and fear, with hope and skepticism. And although St. Luke pens for us what many envision as a holy and silent night, a moment when angels bent the heavens low in song and shepherds stoically tended their flocks by night, Mary and Joseph were awed by the face of God cooing celestial sounds, it was, in reality, a fragile night. It was a night not unlike yours.

It’s a fragile night. It’s a night that we must not cradle in sentimentality the birth of Jesus nor sanitize Him of our sin and brokenness. We must not strip Christmas from the miracle of divinity coming to humanity, of divine love coming to a warped and weary love, of unmerited grace to those living in the fantasy that the manger need not come into their space. We must not see the time of Christmas as an escape clause, a time to mask our ills, deny our sins, and hide our wounds; a time to leave the world in a cocoon of merriment as its life and hope descends from heaven above; a time of two ships passing in the night, one fleeing from the darkness and the other being born into it. And although the entanglement of December’s miracle on 34th Street can hardly be unwrapped from the miracle on the streets of Bethlehem, this night is about almighty God coming to fragile human flesh, of the Father’s insistence that His Son be born, die, and rise for you.

It’s an almighty God in fragile flesh, bouncing about in His virgin mother’s womb. You hear the beast of burden clopping along in the dust of the earth. Joseph’s voice calms the restless and frightened Mary. You see the shadows of animals milling about as they reach their divine destination. Joseph prepares the cruel and cold cattle stall where God comes for all. Mary’s hour has come. Labor and sweat, cries and tears, pierce the midnight air. Suddenly you hear the cry of God, “This is My beloved Son, He is born for you. He is My fragile flesh joined to your fragile flesh, He has come only to rescue you.” From the hills and pastures of the earth, where shepherds roam and you find no home, you hear this cry of newborn life, a home for eternal life. You see Him, lowly in a manger, heaven on earth, Christ the Son of God, born for man on earth. His presence pierces your body and soul to see that He comes to die for you. His glory is hidden beneath an impending cross. His life is freely given to a world that is lost.

It’s a fragile flesh that covers your bones, holds your heart, and encases your soul. It’s a flesh that had no room for Him-your sin too grievous, too deep, to think that He could rouse you from your sinful sleep. Yet what you failed to see is that He takes this heavy sin-filled life and dies with it on a tree. Yes, you are poor shepherds, who adore God’s holy birth, and yet you are foolish virgins who sit idly by as this gift comes down to earth. You travail this thorny and thistled life, with scars too numerous to cover, yet greater is the One who lies in a manger whose scars will bring you righteous and heavenly life. You are children who sit on the edge of your pew, enchanted by the beauty of this night, with all this candlelight, yet you are grownups filled with the varied emotions of many Christmas nights. Your name is one of many in a grand family tree, perhaps reunited on this Christmas Eve, yet you sit alone as your branches of love are buried beneath the deep winter snow. The saints and Christmas angels surround you, this child’s kingdom spanning from age to age, uniting flesh that lives far away, flesh that lies in the gave, flesh that stand at odds with other flesh, and barren flesh that never gave birth to flesh. This is you. This is me. This is the church on Christmas Eve.

So you come to the manger of Jesus and He looks up at you. In His eyes He sees Himself, joined to you from eternity. This is the joy that is set before Him, to live, to die, to rise for you, His children so frail and so few. It’s that simple and it’s free. This night you come to celebrate the birth of Jesus and yet the birth of Jesus is all about you. Jesus is not the reason for season. You are. The birth of God is your second birth-set free from this thistled and thorny earth. Jesus is born into your incriminating past, wiping the memory of your sins so deep and so fresh into a cradle and cross that doesn’t count the cost. Jesus is born into your time, into your day, into your night, into all of your life, so that you may hold it sacred and be not afraid that it will soon pass away. Jesus is born into your future; a life that you confess will be the masterful work of this child, the beginning of your endless days, never to pass away. There is no part of your life that Jesus has not assumed as His own. He takes full responsibility for your sin and death while you take the place of honor and gladness as He puts away all your sadness.

Indeed, much is wrapped up into this night. It’s not only a flood of emotions, it’s a flood of fleshly mercy and fleshly forgiveness. Jesus is wrapped in the swaddling Word, His flesh audibly heard, a promise spoken that can never be broken. Jesus is wrapped in the Baptismal waters, His flesh new birth to weary sons and daughters. Jesus is wrapped in the Supper, His flesh forgiving food, His blood merciful drink. Jesus is wrapped in your mess to give you new and immortal dress. This is a fragile yet fleshly night. No sentiment lies here, only salvation. No sanitizing or airbrushing of life’s treacherous path, just simple fragile flesh given in love that comes from heaven above. Beloved, Christmas Eve is almighty God in fragile flesh, incarnate and redeeming love, coming to you and to me. It’s that simple. It’s that free.

Rev. Christopher Raffa is Associate Pastor of Pilgrim Evangelical Lutheran Church in West Bend, Wisconsin. You can email him at revcraffa@att.net.