A Christmas, Sword-Pierced Love ~ Luke 2:25-35 (A Sermon of love for those who are hurting this Christmas)

 

It’s funny how the Christmas season can involve two very different spirits at the same time. On one hand we have the joy of lights and laughter, the cookies, and the music—but for many of us, there’s another weight, a quieter one: the ache of an empty chair at the table, the dull heaviness of fear about the future, or the simple exhaustion of trying to hold everything together when life hasn’t gone according to plan.

If that’s where you are today—if you’re carrying something heavy—then Christmas is actually for you. Not the greeting-card Christmas, but the Gospel one. The Christmas that gives us Mary… and Simeon… and a God who enters the world not in glitter but in grief, not into a perfect Hallmark movie but into real human suffering.

Luke tells us that eight days after Jesus’ birth, an old man named Simeon entered the temple at what must have been a record-breaking pace for someone with arthritis and terrible eyesight. He didn’t know why. He just woke up with an ache—an urge—to get there. He just knew God wanted him to see something or someone.

He rushes into the temple courts, pushing past the crowds, mumbling a prayer under his breath, scanning every face. And then his eyes land on a poor couple holding a baby. Their clothes and sacrifice, reveal their poverty - just two turtledoves. That was the offering for families who couldn’t afford a lamb. But Simeon hardly notices any of that. Because the moment he sees them, something in him breaks open. He starts weeping, stumbling toward them. This… this is the One. The promise he has waited his whole life to see. And then this old man—with more boldness than manners—plucks the baby right out of Mary’s arms. And he sings:

“Then,” Luke tells us, “Simeon blessed them.” That word in Greek—eulogeo—means “to speak a good word.” It’s where we get eulogy. Except here it’s the dying man giving the eulogy to the living. Imagine Mary in that moment. Young. Tired. Poor. Brand new mom. Still unsure of what this calling means. And yet somehow… Simeon sees her. Along with declaring Jesus’ mission he blesses her. Speaks good words over her life.

 Friends, Simeon knows something we forget: Life is short and hard so bless while you can. Speak “good words” to others while you’re still alive.

This is where Mary becomes our model. She didn’t have everything together. She wasn’t powerful or wealthy or influential. She didn’t earn an honor but simply received a blessing—and offered a blessing – Jesus - to the world. That’s all any of us can do.

And I want to speak especially to those feeling weighed down this Christmas: Look for Simeons in your life who want to bless you. And let them. And if you’re one of the Simeons don’t underestimate the power you have to bless someone who feels as unsure as Mary and Joseph. Not with empty platitudes. Not with nostalgia. Not with comparisons. But with the kind of encouragement that points people to Jesus. With words that recognize their struggle, their calling, their need for hope. Good words. Truthful words. Healing words.

Church, we need more Simeons. We need people who bless instead of complain.
Who point to Jesus instead of pointing fingers. Who look at younger parents—exhausted, overwhelmed, trying their best—and say, “Jesus is the savior of all and you are lovely. You can do this. God is with you.”

But Simeon doesn’t stop with a blessing. He looks at Mary and Joseph—perhaps with tears still drying on his cheeks—and he offers a challenging definition of peace:

 

In other words: This baby will comfort you and this baby will disturb you. This baby will make things right and turn the world upside down. He will bring light and expose what’s hidden in the dark. He will inspire love and draw out our greed, our pride, our resistance. The peace this baby brings is not the absence of tension but the presence of justice. And this is where Christmas gets painfully real.

Friends, we love Christmas. We love the glow, the treats, the songs. But many of our Christmas songs are very soft-focus. Very sentimental. Very snow-globeish. They skip the hard parts of the story.

Mary didn’t get a soft-focus Christmas. Neither did Joseph. Neither did Simeon. Jesus was born into political turmoil, into poverty, into violence. And the songs Scripture gives us—the songs of Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon—aren’t sentimental at all. They talk about the proud falling, the poor rising, hungry people filled, powerful people dethroned, a Savior who will be opposed. They talk about the real world. And a real Savior. And a real peace – in all its joy and pain.

Which means this baby is not the kind of Messiah you and I would naturally choose. He doesn’t just join our team. He exposes what’s inside our hearts—the parts that love God and neighbor and the parts that resist  - our preference for a comfortable faith instead of a crucified one. Like Mary, we must become the kind of disciple who can stand at the foot of a cross because she first listened to the hard words at the foot of the cradle. “Peace on earth” and little bundled up blessings of God offer disruption and rejection as they bring true justice and real peace.  “Peace on earth” will bring you joy and bring you pain, will offer grace and entail rejection, will involve unconditional love in the face of incomprehensible hate. “Peace on earth” doesn’t invite us to stand-by but to stand against anything that doesn’t bring the blessing of God. I recently learned Martin Luther King Jr., recipient of the Noble Peace Prize, was arrested 29 times for non-violent, Christian activism. Most of those times he was charged with “disturbing the peace.” Let that vision of “peace” sink in.

 But Simeon isn’t done yet. He ends with the words no one wants to hear:

This is where the sermon touches the very heart of Christmas. Because some of you walked into church today loving Jesus with your own soul‐pain. You are carrying grief that others don’t see. You’re anxious. You’re lonely. You’re exhausted. You’re doing your best—and it still hurts. Mary suffered as a mother, as a believer, as someone who loved deeply and said “yes” to God. And friends, this is where Christmas meets us most honestly:

Being faithful doesn’t spare you from suffering. Loving Jesus deeply will cost you deeply. Love always does. Not because God is punishing you. Not because you failed. Not because you necessarily did something wrong. But because you’re doing it right in a broken world.

Christmas is a love story about a baby—yes. But a sentimental love won’t carry you through life - only a suffering-love, only a sword-pierced love will. God’s love is revealed in both the manger and the cross, and our love for Him is revealed not only in our comfort but also in our scarred hands and broken hearts. And the deeper the love, the deeper the ache.

I know many of you carry grief this season—grief for people you’ve lost, dreams that died, relationships that changed, plans that unraveled, politics that are painful. And maybe somewhere deep inside, a question whispers: “What did I do wrong?”

Simeon answers: “The sword in your soul is the cost of love, not the punishment for failure.” Mary shows us this. She lives love that hurts and heals at the same time. She models trust in a God who doesn’t protect her from suffering but who favors her and meets her inside of it. She models a faith that can bear confusion, heartbreak, waiting, and loss—and still carry good news, of great joy, for all people.

So here is my eulogy for you:
Like Mary, what you suffer for reveals what you truly love.
And more than that—
Like Mary, God can use your suffering . . .
To deepen you.
To restore you.
To make you more like Jesus.

To help bring true justice and peace to the world.
To draw you nearer than joy alone ever could.

You are a blessing. Life is hard. Faith can hurt. I know. But don’t be afraid of what this suffering says about you. Mary didn’t suffer because she did anything wrong… but because she did something beautifully right. Because she loved Jesus and loved others. Because she said “yes” to bearing a blessing. Friends, this Christmas—this “Mary Christmas”—let Mary show us the way. Say yes to God even when you don’t understand. Carry Jesus even when the weight feels heavy. Treasure every glimpse of God’s faithfulness. Stand at the cradle and the grave even when it breaks your heart. And trust that nothing—nothing—you suffer in love is ever wasted. And above all— receive the blessing of God. And give it freely away.

May this be a Mary Christmas:
A Christmas where you are blessed and give blessings away.
A Christmas where courage is born in you.
A Christmas where Christ enters your real life—your aching life— and stays.

Amen.

Mary Christmas!: Responding to God in the Real World ~ Luke 1:26-38

 

Imagine this: You’re driving, baking cookies, wrapping presents—Christmas music playing all around you. You’re not reading theology, but you’re singing it. Every carol is a mini sermon. But here’s the question—Who is Mary in our songs? What would you say? Or better yet—what would you sing?

Here’s the surprise: In 381 English Christmas carols, Mary shows up in only 27 percent. The shepherds and angels beat her. Even the late-arriving wise men almost get as many mentions! And when Mary does appear, it’s usually a quiet cameo—more about her body than her bravery.

Out of the top ten beloved carols—the ones pastors dare not skip—only three even mention her at all. Yet Mary herself once sang, “All generations will call me blessed” (Luke 1:48). But in many churches, she’s not “blessed” but overlooked, more porcelain figurine than courageous disciple.

That’s not the real Mary. The Mary of Scripture is authentic, thoughtful, curious, and brave. More Rosie the Riveter than silent statue. She wrestled with fear, asked hard questions, and still said “yes” to God.

For centuries, the Church called her the model believer—not because she was perfect, but because she shows us how to respond to God. So today, we’re going to walk with the real Mary—through honest anxiety, thoughtful reflection, curious questions, and courageous consent.

Mary experiences honest anxiety. ‘Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.’ But she was greatly troubled by his words . . .

“Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” And Mary was greatly troubled—not because an angel showed up, but because of Gabriel’s words. She knew what it meant to be favored by God. In Scripture, those favored by God—Noah, Gideon, Esther—were called to risk, disruption, and danger. Mary understood that “favored one” was a title offered by God on the other side of terror.

And Mary had every reason to feel afraid. In her world, an unexpected pregnancy wasn’t just awkward—it was dangerous. It could mean public shame, religious trial, and even death. Saying “yes” to God could cost her everything: her reputation, her safety, even her life (Deut. 22:23-24 – note the parallel phrasing with Luke 1:27).

If Mary wished to contest her guilt as a suspected adulteress, she could have experienced the law of bitter waters (Numbers 5). She would have been brought before the priest, required to let her hair hang down and under oath asked to drink a bitter mixture of dust, holy water, and the ink of the priest’s written curse. The curse involved the words: “may the LORD cause you to become a curse among your people when he makes your womb to miscarry and your abdomen swell.”

So she could have said “no” to Gabriel and protected her image. She could have stayed safe, stayed silent, stayed respectable. But she didn’t. She shows us that following God is not fantasy—it’s not neat, clean, or anxiety-free. Real faith is often messy and costly. It brings both great joy and great pain. Mary was the first person to accept Jesus on His own terms—before He was born, before He suffered and carried a cross, she suffered and carried one for Him.

Perhaps the best expression of her bravery is best said by Martin Luther: “How many came in contact with her, talked, and ate and drank with her, who perhaps despised her and counted her but a common, poor, and simple village maiden, and who, had they known, would have fled from her in terror?”

Is it any wonder that in Revelation’s retelling of the Christmas story, Mary is pictured shining like the sun, facing a dragon? Because Mary was not just afraid —she was brave. But Mary did more than that.

She expressed thoughtful reflection— “. . . and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.”

Mary didn’t rush to answer Gabriel; she took time to think. Scripture says she “pondered.” This wasn’t passive meditation—it was active reflection. She probably considered Scripture, the promises of God, and what it might mean for her role in God’s plan. She pondered her role in God’s story as a serious actor. She wasn’t simply a passive vessel but the first apostle – the first messenger of the gospel! No sooner does Gabriel return to God than Mary dashes off to Elizabeth to tell her the good news of Jesus. Mary is one of the first eye-witnesses and story-tellers of what God was up to. Luke reminds us in verse 2:19 that “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Many scholars suggest that she is one of the critical eye-witnesses for Luke’s Gospel (1:1-4). She was the first teacher and the priest that mute Zechariah failed to be. That’s the interesting irony of Luke’s Gospel. He will allow no mansplaining. Men are either marginal to the birth-story or mute. They are not the leaders. Mary was. She wasn’t just a womb but a thoughtful voice, a critical composer of what would become the story we tell of Jesus. She had to rise above the negative stereotypes about women in her context to see herself as a critical thinker and contributor. Mary teaches us that faith is not just emotional—it involves deep thought, imagination, and reflection. The call of God is always worth pondering.

She also held curious questions. ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’

After pondering, Mary asks, “How can this be?” She doesn’t doubt God, but she seeks understanding. Unlike Zechariah, who asks, “How will I know?” Mary asks, “How will this work?” Her question comes from faith, not doubt. Mary as our example reminds us that committed Christians can asks hard questions of God’s word and God’s activity. People practicing faith in the real world can feel free to ask real questions to God and one another like “how?” and “why are things this way?”

She refuses to skirt the obvious problems of biology – but addresses it head on. Her deep faithfulness does not gloss over the real challenges. So the mother of our Lord gives us critical advice if we are going to be faithful responders to God’s word: Question authority. Such questioning is not disloyalty and does not lead to disqualification. An unquestioning faith will rarely give birth to the work of God. Mary’s importance has been modeled and expressed by many women. The 19^th century women’s right’s advocate and evangelical Christian Sojourner Truth who was also willing to ask curious questions to question authority. In a famous speech titled, “Ain’t I a Woman” (speaking at a woman’s rally in 1851), Sojourner said, “Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from?,” she asked. “Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.”

Finally, she offered courageous consent. Then Mary said, ‘Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.’

To honor Mary we need to let her define herself. She hears about God’s plan and her critical part in it and then has the courage to call herself “servant” and not “queen.” That, in and of itself, might be the best revelation of why God picked her in the first place. Her specialness wasn’t a title to be proclaimed but a humble sacrifice to make. I’d like to think that Mary would agree with Dorothy Day who once said, “Don’t make me a saint. I don’t want to be dismissed that easily.” Her obedience wasn't blind—it was thoughtful, informed, and brave. She was truly afraid, didn’t know how everything that would unfold, but she trusted the One who called her.

Friends, Mary was the first person to accept Jesus on His terms—regardless of the cost. Christmas is not just about baby Jesus in a manger—it’s about Mary’s response, and our response, to God’s radical invitation. God is still speaking. God is still looking for willing partners, favored ones. And maybe, this Christmas, He is calling you to your own Mary Christmas moment—to say, “Here am I. Let it be with me according to Your word.” So this season, don’t just say “Merry Christmas.” Say “Mary Christmas”—and let it mean an honest, thoughtful, curious, courageous “yes” to God. Amen.

Living the Upside-Down Kingdom ~ Mark 1:14-15; Matthew 7:24-27

 

We live in a world drunk on power—where the loudest voices win, the richest get all the breaks, borders define belonging, outrage is currency, and “winning” means someone always has to lose. Everyone’s climbing, canceling, curating, performing, protecting their tribe while the weak get crushed under the ladder of success.

Then Jesus walks in and flips-the-script, overturns the rules, and upside-downs the world. His kingdom runs on a completely different operating system: the last are first, the poor are the VIPs, enemies get prayers instead of punches, and the broken are the ones God brags about. Strength looks like weakness, winning looks like losing, and the guest of honor is the person the world never looked at.

This isn’t a polite adjustment to the way things are; it’s a divine insurrection against everything we’ve been trained to worship. And it’s not coming someday—it’s breaking in right now, daring us to defect from the empire of first and self and step into the Upside-Down Kingdom where Jesus, not us, sits on the throne.

Are You ready to lean in and live upside-down? Let’s look back and name eight values we’ve encountered in this Upside-Down Kingdom series.

1. Today, Not Someday — Live Heaven on Earth

The kingdom of God isn’t waiting for heaven. It starts here, now, within us and among us. When Jesus said, “Repent,” at the beginning of his ministry (Mark 1), He wasn’t saying, “Feel guilty.” He was saying, “See differently. Think differently.” Repent literally means, “go beyond the mind you have.” It’s not “feel bad” but turn toward something good. It’s not “try harder,” it’s “come closer.” It’s an invitation to joy, curiosity, and transformation. It doesn’t so much look like someone ashamed but someone like this . . . 

 

 

It’s truly seeing, not blind faith. It’s a gift, not a punishment.

And Jesus said, “Today, the kingdom of God has come near.” Not someday. Not after you fix your life. Not after death. Today. The kingdom is not just where we go when we die; it’s how we live before we die. It shapes how we treat the vulnerable, the immigrant, the poor, the stranger, and even our enemy – now, as if heaven were already here. Jesus didn’t just save souls—He restored lives. He healed bodies, affirmed dignity, and challenged harmful practices. And the kingdom is heaven coming to earth through people who live like Jesus—starting today. The sermon quotable: We are to repentantly listen to Jesus’ way, Jesus’ time, Jesus’ mission, and invert everything that is not as Jesus intends it to be. For those of you who might only wish to ask, “Are you saved?” Jesus would add, “Do kids have enough to eat today?” To those who might only worry about economic concerns, Jesus would ask, “Do you need forgiveness now?”

2. The kingdom is built for you not on you.

In Matthew 4 and Luke 4, we watched Jesus in the wilderness as He faced a battle between two types of kingdoms: God’s and Satan’s. We learned the battle was Jesus’ do-over of Adam’s and Israel’s failure to conquer sin and bless the world. His victory showed us this (sermon quotable): the Upside-Down Kingdom is not centered on me. It includes me. It invites me. But it does not revolve around me. It’s not built on my talents, opinions, or abilities—it’s built on Jesus’ faithfulness. That’s good news. Because if it rested on us, it would fall apart. But because it rests on Him, it stands forever. The kingdom has everything to do with you—but it’s not built on you. You can courageously fail, fantastically flop, and still be with this kingdom.

3. Cross Before Crown

The way of Jesus is not the path of comfort, but of sacrificial love. In the wilderness, Jesus was tempted three times and each temptation was basically an offer to get the prize without paying the price. It was an invitation to get the crown without the cost by choosing power over obedience, demanding proof instead of having trust, and grabbing for glory while dodging suffering. But Jesus chose a different way. This beloved son of God revealed that the means of the kingdom matter as much as the ends. In the same way, “child of God” isn’t just some title that you are given but an identity that we are also asked to live out. It's kind of like a marriage vow. The “I do” is declared publicly at the ceremony, in front of family and friends. And – boom – you’re married. But the vow is really proven in the tough, private moments through sickness, disagreements, and hard times. And that matters particularly to the one you made all those promises to. Jesus showed us that obedience matters, humility matters, sacrifice matters not just to God but to people in need. In this kingdom, we do not grasp for power—we take up our cross and follow Him.

4. Embrace Before Fixing

Jesus didn’t wait for people to change before He loved them. He loved them, and that became the space where change was possible. In Mark 1, when a leper said, “Are you willing to make me whole?” Jesus didn’t just heal him—He said, “I am willing.” And he touched him - first. Before anything changed, Jesus became “unclean” himself so the man could belong again. It's this idea called “the will to embrace” that Jesus and his kingdom movement affirm a person's worth, their dignity, their basic humanity as being worthy of love without conditions. That’s the heart of God. Love over laws. Embrace before evaluation. We don’t first see a problem—we need to see a person. Jesus’ way reminds us that people don’t become worthy of love—they discover their worth in love. People aren’t invited to believe so that they may belong. They are invited to belong so that they may believe. And what are we asked to believe: that God’s love is so extravagant that he would leave ninety-nine of those who are safe for one that is lost and look until he finds them (Luke 15). The sermon quotable: The response to people struggling with sin, isolated by sin, harmed by sin, isn’t to hate sin but to listen to people, to forgive people, to embrace people. It isn’t to separate from sin but to lean into people with touchable compassion.

5. Mercy Over Merit

We noticed in Matthew 20 that the kingdom isn't earned—it’s received. Jesus told a story of workers in a vineyard—some worked all day, some only one hour—but all received the same reward. And it bothered people, just like it bothers us. Because we love fairness. But the kingdom isn’t built on fairness—it’s built on mercy. God doesn’t give us what we deserve; He gives us what we need. Grace levels the ground because we know that we have all been that last worker to show up. Sermon quotable: “Because in the end, the kingdom of God isn’t about who worked the hardest — it’s about who’s willing to rejoice that everyone got paid.”

6. Shared Work, Shared Welcome

In this Upside-Down Kingdom, everyone serves and everyone belongs. In Luke 10, Jesus shattered categories of who gets to do what. In Mary and Martha’s home, we saw Mary sit at Jesus’ feet—a place reserved only for male disciples. But Jesus didn’t send her back to the kitchen. He protected her right to learn, to grow, to lead. In Jesus’ kingdom, there are no “men’s roles” or “women’s roles”—there are only kingdom roles. Everyone gets to serve, learn, lead, and love. The question isn’t, “Am I Mary or Martha?” The better question is, “Whose burden can I lift so they too can sit at Jesus’ feet?” Show the sermon quotable.

7. Bless the Broken

In Luke 6, Jesus changed the meaning of “blessed.” In His culture, like ours, “blessed” meant wealthy, successful, powerful, favored by God. But Jesus looked at the poor, the grieving, the weary, the lonely, and said, “You are blessed.” Why? Because blessing is not about having it together—it’s about being noticed and held by God. Blessing isn’t a reward—it’s a relationship. The Upside-Down Kingdom starts not with strength, but with weakness, not with our faithfulness but with God’s faithfulness. God doesn’t wait for the polished and impressive—He starts with the broken and honest. Because in this kingdom, blessing is not found in being important—but in helping others know they are important. The sermon quotable: God's kingdom, true blessedness, is not found when you've got it all together. It's found in the exact opposite place, in the places of our need. The kingdom of God is built specifically for the frail and the fragile. It's a space where it's genuinely 100% okay to not be okay.

8. Love Your Enemy, Not Just Your Friends

Kingdom love isn’t wimpy—it’s courage. It crosses lines. It breaks cycles. It speaks to love and truth to the powerful. Jesus said, “Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” This isn’t weakness—it’s freedom. He seeks to free us from the tyranny of others by not allowing them to determine our response or dictate our actions. He teaches us that people are never the enemy – injustice is. He encourages us not to spread hatred but to live imaginatively into way of being that seeks to remake the world through mercy, generosity, and blessing. You can’t shame someone into transformation. You can’t bully someone into blessing. Kingdom love transforms bitterness into forgiveness, anger into compassion, enemies into neighbors, by receiving grace ourselves and using it as our secret weapon  - killing them with kindness. The sermon quotable comes from one of the mad-libs created by a parishioner where you were asked to finish the statement from Isaiah2:4: They will beat their swords into cookies. That’s the imagination that will enable us to live upside down.

Friends, the Upside-Down Kingdom is not just an idea—it’s how we fight. It’s not safe – it’s infuriating to some and dangerous for others. It will take you into lonely places, just like Jesus. It may get you misunderstood, rejected, or labeled. But don’t be afraid. Because this way of Jesus—ultimately is the work of Jesus and he has already won. When we live this way, we don’t so much build the kingdom—we reveal it. When we live this way, we don’t so much secure our place in heaven – we help heaven be a place on earth. Amen.