Fear Not

Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 9: 2-7 and Luke 2: 1-20 Sermon Title: Fear Not Preached on December 24, 2020 The Scripture Lesson I just read from the Gospel of Luke is the same one read by Linus in the Peanuts Christmas Special. It’s a well-known passage, featuring those mainstays of every nativity scene, the shepherds, who answered the call from the angels to go and see this thing that God had done on that very first Christmas so long ago. I wonder if they left their flocks behind or brought them. Does that sound like a good question? It might sound too fanciful or beside the point, as our questions often are. In the comics last Sunday, the mom in the Family Circus was trying to tell the Christmas story but couldn’t for all the kids who were asking: who wrote this story? Should Joseph have called sooner to get a reservation at the Inn? Why didn’t the Wise Men bring baby Jesus some better presents? I don’t mean to get in the way of the story with this question, but truly, I do think about the flocks, and I bet they left them because hearing the great Good News which changes everything demands that we leave something behind, namely, our fear. To quote from the 90’s movie Defending Your Life, “Fear is like a giant fog. It sits on your brain and blocks everything – real feelings, true happiness, real joy. They can’t get through that fog. But you lift it, and buddy, you’re in for the ride of your life.” That’s how it was. Maybe they left one shepherd behind the way Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon while what’s his name stayed back on the ship. We remember the shepherds because they took that step of faith right over their fear. That’s worth thinking about on Christmas Eve. In this season of abundant anxiety “Fear not,” is the part of this Second Scripture Lesson which I find impossible to ignore, because that’s just such a challenge in the time of a viral pandemic. “Fear not,” is a radical instruction in this time when there is much to fear. Yet, something that I never would have noticed on my own is that as Linus, the Peanut’s character known for always carrying around his blankie, drops it when he says this verse from the Gospel of Luke, “And the angel said unto them, “Fear not!” There’s a message for this age which glimmers from that scene as well as from all the best Christmas movies. “Fear not,” George Bailey. “And see that you’ve had a wonderful life.” “Fear not,” Ebenezer Scrooge. “Your life isn’t over. You can do it all different, starting now.” “Fear not,” ancient shepherds. “Fear not,” my brothers and sisters, for fear is holding all of us captive in one way or another. And I’m not talking about whether or not you’re wearing a mask in public. I’m talking about giving life a chance to be new and surprising. I’m talking about real risk, truly opening yourself up to the transforming power of the Gospel, which requires us to let go of our fear. My brother-in-law is a Methodist pastor. He’s a chaplain down at Oxford College of Emory University, and he frequently writes for the local paper. This week he pointed out that even Christmas movies like Home Alone contain a glimmer of what it means to let go of fear. Do you remember the character with the shovel in that movie? That old man who lurks the neighborhood salting the sidewalks? The kids in the neighborhood are afraid of him. They call him Old Man Marley and the rumor is that he distributes the remains of his murder victims in that salt, slowly getting rid of the evidence, bit by bit and piece by piece. On Christmas Eve he sits down with Kevin, the main character, in church. There it’s revealed that Old Man Marley carries guilt more than evil intentions around with him as he salts the sidewalk, having years ago broken ties with his son. “Why don’t you call him?” Kevin asks. “What if he won’t talk to me?” Old Man Marley responds. You see, he’s afraid. There’s always something to be afraid of, and this has been a fear packed year where there’s something to be afraid of around each and every corner. The obvious fear is of a virus. Some say it’s no worse than the flu, yet it’s taken the lives of more than 300,000 Americans. Some compare the daily death count to other tragedies, saying it’s like a 9/11 every day. We know it’s overwhelming some of our hospitals, it’s beating down the work force, making educators do backflips (as though their jobs weren’t hard enough already), all while some voices are saying: what’s the big deal? It’s easy to be afraid of the truth, but it’s also easy to be even more afraid when it’s not clear what the truth is. That’s made calling home more difficult. Maybe your mother is relieved that you’re not coming. Maybe she’s mad and eating at a buffet right now before she goes to Walmart without a mask on. Ours is a Christmas veiled in a fear that not everyone is facing but all of us are feeling, yet the angels come again with that same message, be not afraid, fear not, come to Bethlehem and see. Drop your burden, let go of whatever it is that you’ve been depending on for comfort be it denial or hand sanitizer, and take comfort in the truth that God is doing something new tonight which changes things. Even though sometimes it’s hard to believe that anything could ever really change. The vaccine is here, but that has some just cautiously optimistic. For example: my Mom works in mental health at the hospital on a Cherokee reservation, so she’s one on that front line to receive a vaccine for this virus, only one of her friends who is Cherokee said, “I was honored that Native Americans are among the first to receive the vaccine, until I started thinking about the last time the government offered to help us out. Is this a cure or another delivery of smallpox blankets?” It’s hard sometime to get excited about the future if you’ve been hurt in the past. It’s hard to be hopeful if you’ve been let down before. It’s hard not to be afraid if you have a good reason to be, but I heard a three-year-old named Dalton quoted this week. She said, “Sometimes it makes me a little nervous to go down the slide,” but guess what, she still goes down them and if we can drop our fear, we’re in for the ride of our lives. That’s what the shepherds did. All at once they could see that there was a power greater than whatever they were afraid of breaking into the world, and the same is true for us. That’s what Christmas is always all about. God breaking into our lives, revealing what fear has hidden from our eyes. Think about it. On Christmas Eve do you really know enough to be hopeless? Wayne Dyer, an author, once wrote: “No one really knows enough to be pessimistic,” especially on the night before hope was born. Fear not. Fear not. What are you holding so tightly that you can’t hear them? Are you ready to recognize that fear could have you seeing it all wrong? For George Bailey was certain he was a failure. Though he had been a hero his whole life regret was blinding him to it. He’s on that bridge, trapped in this whirlwind of emotions and unfulfilled dreams. He never got to do any of things that he wanted to do. He wanted to travel the world but had to stay home to take care of his family. He wanted to be a war hero, but the brother, whose life he saved, got to do that instead. He saved countless lives, he prevented financial ruin, he elevated the lowly, he prevented the degradation of women, he built a community for families where instead there would be a graveyard, and he looks down into the water from a bridge wondering if it had made a lick of difference. “Fear not” George Bailey. “Fear not” Ebenezer. It’s not too late. This Christmas Eve, fear not. Let go of such worries. Forget how to keep score. Look up from the water of hopelessness to see the bright shining star overhead, for the angels are singing, “fear not.” Fear not, all you nurses, underwater, caring for too many people at once. Rushing from one bedside to the next, while friends go to parties and act like everything is fine. Tonight, fear not, because your life of virtue makes a bigger difference than you’ll ever know. Fear not, all you teachers. Abraham Lincoln had to learn remotely too, and look at where he ended up. Fear not all you parents, for learning how to do without never hurt anybody, and it won’t hurt your kids. They should fear not as well. Fear not all you children. Tomorrow is a new day, shining bright with potential. Fear not, even you who mourn, because the God who takes death’s sting away is born unto us. Fear not if you’re hopeless, for there is more to the story. And fear not all you who are alone, because you’re not. The light of the world is breaking into our lives. Drop your fear, anxiety, worry, and angst for just long enough to see that something different is happening for unto us is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. Amen.