Many of you know that I grew up outside of any religious faith. As a child, I didn’t know anything about Christianity. I couldn’t tell you a single book in the Bible. I couldn’t name a single character in the Bible except Jesus. For the first sixteen years of my life I knew nothing about Christianity.
I did, however, know three images from the Christian faith: the manger, the cross, and the tomb. My family always observed Christmas. And even though it had very little spiritual significance for us, I had seen the Charlie Brown Christmas special enough to know that Christmas revolved around the story a baby in a manger. In addition, my family always observed Easter. We rarely attended church on Easter, but we usually had Easter egg hunts. And I knew, from friends and television, that Easter was tied up with two symbols: the cross and the tomb. Though I knew nothing of the significance of them, I had heard that a man named Jesus died on a cross and rose from a tomb.
Though I was ignorant of Christianity, its three major symbols still found their way into my consciousness: manger, cross, and tomb. In fact, the most basic stories of Jesus which many know are the manger, the cross, and the tomb. We still see manger scenes at Christmas in public places. We still see crosses on jewelry and in art. And we still find people who know to associate Easter with a tomb—they just can’t explain its meaning.
These three images are an important part of how the Bible summarizes the story of Jesus. As we saw last Sunday, there are a handful of places in Scripture when the author stops to give us an overview of Jesus’ story. These overviews are comprised of six chapters. We can imagine this large book as the story of Jesus told in six chapters (the first three chapters are those more well-known stories):
- First, there is the manger. Jesus’ comes to earth as a human. We call this the Incarnation.
- Second, there is the cross. Jesus dies in our place. We call this the Crucifixion.
- Third, there is the tomb. Three days after his death Jesus is raised. This is the Resurrection.
- Fourth, there are clouds. Jesus’ followers watch him rise to heaven in the clouds. This is called the Ascension.
- Fifth, there is the fire. Jesus sends the Spirit on his followers in the form of tongues of fire. This is called Pentecost.
- Sixth, there is the trumpet. With a loud trumpet call Jesus returns to reign finally and fully. This is known as the Second Coming.
These are the key chapters in the story of Jesus.
And as I pointed out last Sunday, these six chapters teach us a lot about sharing Jesus. Dr. Monte Cox from Harding University spent time with the Highland staff earlier this year and showed us that we can learn a lot about how to share Jesus with others by looking at how God shared Jesus with us. This Sunday morning series is built on that assumption. We are exploring what we learn about sharing Jesus with others by looking at how God shared Jesus with us through manger, cross, tomb, clouds, fire, and trumpet.
Last Sunday we considered the tomb. This morning we’ll look at cross and manger. First, the manger. What does the manger teach us about sharing Jesus with others? At our staff retreat with Monte Cox, he suggested this: through the manger, Jesus acted in a way that communicated to people far from God: “I want to be with you.” If we could boil down the meaning of the manger to its essence, it is this: Jesus acting in a way that said to those far away from God: “I want to be with you.” It was Jesus moving onto our turf. It was Jesus closing the distance between himself and us. It was Jesus creating a presence in the midst of the people he longed to save.
I want to build onto this point. This closing of the gap did not come without cost. Eugene Peterson translates one of the summary texts—Phil. 2—in this way: Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! (Phil. 2:5-7 The Message). Jesus set aside the privileges of deity to become human. In order to live out the story of the manger, Jesus had to set aside his way of life. Jesus could not continue his current way of life and act in a way that said to those far from God “I want to be with you.” Jesus’ current way of life and his goal of drawing close to those far from God were incompatible. Jesus had to set something aside in order to live out the story of the manger. And among the many things Jesus set aside was this: community. Jesus was enjoying perfect community with Father and Spirit for eternity. And in order to move onto our turf so we’d know without a doubt that God wants to be with us, Jesus had to give that community up. He had to leave that divine community in order to live out the story of the manger.
One of the greatest steps we can take in sharing Jesus is to act in ways that communicate to people far from God: “I want to be with you.” I’m convinced that the most significant thing Christians can do today to share Jesus is to start living in ways that communicate to people far from God: “I want to be with you.” Why? Because far too often we communicate explicitly or implicitly that we do not want to be with people who are far from God. When it comes to our posture toward people who are far from God and who act like they are far from God, too often we Christians communicate something like, “I do not want to be with you. I do not want to be anywhere near you. I don’t want you in my neighborhood. I don’t want you in my school. I don’t want you on my radio or my television. I don’t want you in my workplace. And I certainly do not want you in my life.” Too often, when it comes to those far from God, we Christians simply shake our heads at them. We snicker at them. We condemn them. We gossip about them. And worse, we avoid them. But if we are truly interested in sharing Jesus with others the way God shared Jesus with us, we must repent! We must start living in ways that tell non Christians we truly wish to be with them.
But here’s the most salient point: In order for us to live out the story of the manger, we will have to set aside our way of life. Just as Jesus could not continue his way of life in order to live out the story of the manger, neither can we. If we want to start communicating to people far from God how much we want to be with them, it’s going to cost us something.
One of the primary things standing in the way is our compartmentalization. I’ve borrowed this word from Alan Hirsh and Lance Ford in their book Right Here, Right Now.[1] They explain it in this way: “Prior to modern suburban design and zoning categories, living was done across a rather seamless landscape. People were significantly connected to others beyond their immediate family through a network of relationships that were formed as a natural by-product of daily living. There was consistent and genuine connection with others. People frequently interacted with one another as they walked to the neighborhood drugstore, pub, or corner market. As they were on their way, off-the-cuff conversations took place with neighbors sitting on their front porches having morning coffee or catching an afternoon breeze. This was just one of the ways people got to know one another. Over the years friendships developed and true community was nurtured and developed.”[2] In other words, there was once a time in our culture when we connected with the same group of people across the spheres of our lives—work, play, church, school, etc. We were in contact with one group of people, including those far from God, and we saw them regularly and formed relationships with them naturally as we lived together, shopped together, schooled together, and recreated together.
Then culture changed. Central air-conditioning and television drew more and more neighbors inside. The front porch was traded for the living room. Friendships with neighbors were replaced with friendships with the Bunkers and Waltons.[3] Our lives become compartmentalized into “silos” for commerce, employment, worship, exercise, education, etc. Hirsh and Ford write, “This results in a life that becomes compartmentalized. We live multiple lives (e.g., home life, work life, church life, exercise life) among different sets of people. So, the people we live near are usually not the same people with whom we work, shop, or worship. There is no genuine network of relationships, just sets of relationships.”[4] I see this in my own life. There are a small set of people I see for about one hour each day when I exercise at the gym. There’s a different set of people I see for a moment when I walk around my neighborhood praying each morning. There’s a different set of people I interact with perhaps once a month who are publishers and authors. I don’t have any in depth relationships with these people, especially those who may be far from God. Rarely are there relaxed moments of off-the-cuff conversations and easy discussions that lead naturally to talk of faith.
Here’s the bottom line: There was once a time when we had many opportunities to form natural relationships with some people because we lived near them, shopped with them, worked with them, and even played together. Today, we have neighborhood friends, work friends, exercise friends, school friends, shopping friends and we have very few opportunities to form natural relationships with people because we see them so briefly each week. And this compartmentalization is standing in the way of our living out the story of the manger. If we want to share Jesus with others the way God shared Jesus with us, we have to become dissatisfied with our current compartmentalized way of life. We have to work hard at creating ways of getting into meaningful relationships with people who may be far from God so that conversations about faith and life can naturally happen. We’ve got to pay whatever price is necessary to leave our silos and start connecting deeply with people who are far from God.
A few years ago the Chicago Tribune ran the story of Steve Bankes.[5] Bankes was very interested in forming friendships with his neighbors through which he could have faith conversations. But he knew he could not maintain the status quo of neighborhood life and accomplish this goal. He knew he couldn’t accept the way so few neighbors interact these days. Specifically, he realized relationships could not form easily when the only porches in his neighborhood were back porches. So Bankes built a patio in his front yard. It included shade trees, lots of chairs, and a fire pit. No one else in the neighborhood had a front patio. Neighbors started coming over and just sitting and relaxing and talking. And in the context of these naturally occurring relationships, Bankes began sharing the good news of Jesus. It was one way of decompartmentalizing life, moving out and connecting with people, and thus living out the story of the manger.
Living out the story of the cross is equally as critical. The cross has many things to teach us about sharing Jesus. I want us to consider just one. Through the cross, Jesus acted in a way that communicated to people far from God: “You can measure God’s love for you by my love for you.” How do those far from God know that God so loved them? They know it because Jesus so loved them. People were able to measure the depth of God’s love for them by measuring Jesus’ love for them. Jesus became a living example of just how passionately God loves humanity. It is virtually impossible to stare at the cross and still wonder whether God loves you or cares for you. We can measure God’s love for us by Jesus’ love for us on the cross.
But just as with the story of the manger, living out the story of the cross did not come easily. Jesus did not merely have to set aside his way of life. In order to live out the story of the cross, Jesus had to set aside his very life. To show us that we meant everything to God, Jesus had to give up everything. Jesus could not express how deeply God loved us without a deep and costly sacrifice himself.
One of the greatest steps we can take in sharing Jesus is to act in ways that communicate to people far from God: “You can measure God’s love for you by my love for you.” Not only do people far from God need to know we want to be with them. They need to know we love them and that they can measure God’s love for them by our love for them. Consider for a second your actions or lack of actions toward people who are far from God. On a scale from 1 to 10, 1 being “no love” and 10 being “unbelievable love,” how would people far from God in your life rate your love for them? Would any of them rate us above a 3? If we want people to fall in love with God, they need to meet a God who fell in love with them. And in order for them to know how deeply God’s fallen in love with them, they need to feel how deeply we’ve fallen in love with them.
In order for us to live out the story of the cross, we may have to set aside our very life.
It may cost us a great deal to love people far from God. It may require great sacrifice of time, energy, or resources in order for us to become a living expression of God’s love just as the cross was.
There is, I think, one place to begin living out the story of the manger and the story of the cross. It is not easy. But it is simple. A first step toward living out the stories of the manger and the cross is hospitality. By hospitality I don’t mean inviting church friends over for a meal. I mean sitting down with a person far from God and eating a meal together. Hirsh and Ford write: “I clearly remember when Nick Wight, friend and church planter, suggested that if every Christian household regularly invited a stranger, or a poor person, or a work colleague into their home for a meal with the family once a week, we would literally change the world by eating! At first I thought that this was an overstatement, but upon reflection we actually believe it is true. There are at least five million Christian households in America. What if each of these adopted the missional practice of regular hospitality? What do you think would happen?”[6] One author named Michael Frost writes about his congregation.[7] They are a congregation deeply committed to sharing Jesus. To achieve that goal, every member makes this commitment: they will eat a meal with a non Christian person once a week. It is as simple as that. I call this Divine Dinners. Living out the stories of the manger and cross can begin by simply planning a Divine Dinner once a week. Imagine what might happen if every person at Highland committed to sharing a meal once a week with someone far from God.
I believe that in our compartmentalized culture, in our busy and hectic world, in our society in which few have meaningful relationships, being invited to share a meal is immensely appealing. It is a powerful statement of friendship and love. It says “I want to be with you.” It’s a concrete step toward saying, “You can measure God’s love for you by my love for you.” A simple way for those of us who live such compartmentalized lives to form a relationship in a natural way with a person far from God is to share a meal together. And a simple way for us to demonstrate real love is to pay the price of time, energy, and expense to share a meal weekly with people who are far from God.
In his book Outlive Your Life, Max Lucado writes about hospitality.[8] He’s writing largely about Christians showing hospitality to other believers. But his point is still valid for Christians showing hospitality to those far from God: Not everyone can serve in a foreign land, lead a relief effort, or volunteer at the downtown soup kitchen. But who can’t be hospitable? Do you have a front door? A table? Chairs? Bread and meat for sandwiches? Congratulations! You just qualified to serve in the most ancient of ministries: hospitality. Something holy happens around a dinner table that will never happen in a sanctuary. In a church auditorium you see the backs of heads. Around the table you see the expressions on faces. In the auditorium one person speaks; around the table everyone has a voice. Church services are on the clock. Around the table there is time to talk. Hospitality opens the door to uncommon community. It’s no accident that hospitality and hospital come from the same Latin word, for they both lead to the same result: healing. When you open your door to someone, you are sending this message: “You matter to me and to God.” You may think you are saying, “Come over for a visit.” But what your guest hears is, “I’m worth the effort.” That simple but costly invitation to share a meal in your home says “You matter to me and to God.” Do you want to live out the story of the manger? Do you want to live out the story of the cross? Let it begin this week with something as simple as a table, chairs, meal and the invitation, “Come over for a visit.” I guarantee that person far from God will hear, “I’m worth the effort.”
Before the sun goes down today, try to answer two questions:
- What is the name of one person far from God whom I can share a Divine Dinner in some form this week (it could be breakfast, brunch, lunch, midafternoon snack, coffee, supper, or dessert)?
- What day this week am I going to share that meal?
Start with those answers and you’ll start living out the story of the manger and the cross.
[1] Alan Hirsch and Lance Ford, Right Here, Right Now (Baker Books, 2011), Kindle Edition.
[2] Ibid., 2381.
[3] Ibid., 2396.
[4] Ibid., 2418.
[5] Barbara Brotman, “Front patio makes a great hook if fishing for people.” Chicago Tribune (8-3-09); Barbara Brotman “Oak Park neighbors’ spot has East Chicago.
[6] Ibid., 3035.
[7] Ibid., 2828.
[8] Max Lucado, Outlive Your Life (Nelson, 2010), 55.
