Philippians 2:12-16 (New International Version, ©2010)

Do Everything Without Grumbling
 12 Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, 13 for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.
 14 Do everything without grumbling or arguing, 15 so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.”[a] Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky 16 as you hold firmly to the word of life. And then I will be able to boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor in vain.

Philippians 2:5, 16 (Epistles/Now – Leslie Brandt)
“Now, as God’s redeemed and restored children,
we are commissioned and assigned to brighten up this dark world
like stars that brighten up the night.
And like those stars that reflect the sun’s glory after the darkness has fallen,
we are to spell out the promise of the coming dawn.”
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Last year, at about this time,
I preached a couple of messages called AFFIRMATIONS …
and I began with the following words:
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Most Sunday mornings,
after the welcome and opening chorus and announcements
and invitation to worship, we sing our gathering hymn,
and after singing we stand and read together An Affirmation of Faith.
I like to begin the service this way because for me, through those words,
it becomes the joyful celebration of who we are and whose we are.

To affirm means “to assert strongly” …
“to make a formal declaration.”
To affirm is to say ”yes” in this instance, to the faith we hold to.

As I have thought about it,
it seems to me that as meaningful as those affirmations are,
and as much as we are able to say, with believing hearts,
that this is true for us,
an affirmation, after all, is only words.

The greater affirmation isn’t in what we say:
the greater affirmation is in what we do after we say, “I believe.”

The greater affirmation for those whose lives touch ours
isn’t found in what they hear from us
but in what they see in us and experience from us.

It has been said that “A saint is a person who lets the light shine through.”

That is telling to me because it doesn’t say a saint is a person
who has their theology all figured out …
it doesn’t say that a saint is a person
who has all of the doctrinal t’s crossed and i’s dotted.
It does say that a saint is a person
who has let the light of their faith shine through in their living.

So let me share some other affirmations today
because there are countless people, including many of us  ~
in a world full of troubles
and with lives full of pain and sorrow and sickness  and fear and doubt and struggle  ~
who need to see and experience this love of God in Christ come to life
so that they can claim it for themselves.
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Today, I am painting these affirmations on the canvas of the words of Paul.

In the passage of scripture read a few moments ago,
Paul encourages his friends “to work out (their) salvation” …
    and reminds them that “it is God who works in you        
to will and to act according to his good purpose.” 
  It is God’s work that we do when we love one another.   
            It is God’s good purpose that we fulfill.

And then Paul went on to say that they should live in such a way
that “you shine as stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life.” 

Leslie Brandt has paraphrased these words in an particularly beautiful way.
“Now, as God’s redeemed and restored children,
we are commissioned and assigned to brighten up this dark world
like stars that brighten up the night.
And like those stars that reflect the sun’s glory after the darkness has fallen,
we are to spell out the promise of the coming dawn.”  

Jesus might just as easily have said
that for those on whom darkness had fallen  ~
whatever kind of darkness that may be  ~
it is by our living …
it is by our loving …
like stars that brighten up the night after darkness has fallen …
that we are called to spell out the promise of the coming dawn.
         
Why?
Because it is those things done in the name of love
that have the power to transform the world …
one person at a time.
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On Christmas Eve the children and youth of our congregation  -
          along with the Angel Choir made up of some of our angel families  -
                   presented, for the 13th year, The Pageant of the Nativity.
                             And for the 13th year we had a real baby in the lead role:
                                      little Emmi Luhowy, just one day shy of being eight months old.

When her mother, Edielee, playing the role of Mary,
          stepped off the stage to receive her from her mother,
                   you could hear the oohs and ahhs from the children there
                             as she took her in her arms and brought her centre stage
                                      and laid her in the manger.

The narrator read:
“To keep him warm she wrapped him in warm cloths
and laid him in the hay in a manger –
the place where the animals ate.”

But little Emmi was more than a little fussy.
She was not a happy baby lying in the hay in a manger where the animals ate.
So her Mom picked her up and rocked her in her arms,
but the rocking didn’t quiet the baby.
And poor old Joseph was like a lot of dads – not particularly helpful.

And when the Angel Choir sang “Away In A Manger”
and started verse two with the words
“The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes”
and then sang
“but little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes,”
our little Lord Jesus let out a howl
that had the congregation smiling and chuckling and thinking, perhaps,
that the real Bethlehem baby was probably just like every other baby.

Little Emmi fussed the entire time.
At the end of the service,
while some children went to the bell tower to ring the bell for Christmas
others came forward to see Mary and Joseph and our Christmas Eve baby.

She was still fussing as her mother placed her in the manger
when a little girl, probably about three years old, round faced with brown hair,
came up and leaned into the manger to look at the baby.
She had with her a little Raggedy Ann doll.
And in a moment full of grace,
she set her doll in the manger beside the baby Jesus
and stroked the baby’s forehead.
And it was then that a Christmas miracle happened:
our baby, who had fussed throughout the night
looked at the little doll and the little girl, and stopped crying.

I am quite convinced that the little manger visitor truly believed
that it was the little Lord Jesus lying there, crying there,
and in that moment gifted her with her love.                    

If ever one needed an affirmation
of the power of a believing heart
and the power of a simple, loving gesture
all they had to do was look at this little saint
who let love’s light shine through,
who brightened up one little baby’s world
like a star that brightened up a Bethlehem night.

On December 26th, the Sunday after Christmas Day,
two days after that moment,
we gathered in this sacred place for worship.

There was a good congregation present.
The busyness of Christmas, for most, was past.
The rush of the season, for most, was over.

But the meaning of it all  -
the birth of a Child whose life changed everything, everywhere,
for everyone, forever  -
was still very present.
                                                                                   
Two moments, within sixty minutes of moments, stand out for me.

The first was when the children gathered at the step for the Children’s Time.
As they gathered with me, little Kaleigh Brown came up and sat on my knee.
And I talked about a song I heard before the service
being sung by Samantha Pergau, who was sitting with her Aunt Julia.
Samantha is the daughter of Katie and Dan Pergau,
who provided the music for the service that day.
And I asked Samantha if she would come and sit on my knee
and sing the song for us.

Without hesitation this two-year old came up.
I set Kaleigh down at my right side and invited Samantha sit on my knee.
When she was settled in, I asked if she would sing her song –
“Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”

And with the sweetness of her little voice and the innocence of her being, she sang:
“Twinkle, twinkle little star - how I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle little star – how I wonder what you are.”

It was the loveliest rendition of that song I think I ever heard.
The congregation clapped in appreciation, and love.

And then I reminded the children, and everyone there,
that it was a twinkling star, as it shone like a diamond in the sky,
that led wise men to a stable where they came into the presence of a boy
whose life would shine brighter than any star
and who would become the light of the world.
And I reminded them that His light still shines.
And then I asked Samantha if she would sing her song again – which she did.

If ever one needed an affirmation
of the life’s sweet innocence and goodness
                   in a world sometimes full of meanness and sadness, 
all they had to do was listen to this little saint
who let her little light shine
and in a children’s song about a twinkling star
brightened up this place
like a star that brightened up a Bethlehem night.

And then I baptized four children who are a part of our Collier family,
the daughters of Remi and Rhonda Haars: Tiana, Ryley, Kalia and Livia.
They were beautiful in their matching dresses that matched their Mom’s.
One of them even had a doll dressed in her matching dress.
All of them were lovely in their open manner.
And I asked them, in turn:
where they were born,
how much they weighed when they were born,
and what colour their hair was when they were born,
and where they slept after they were born.
There were smiles, and shrugs, and giggles as they answered.

And I reminded them that Jesus was born in a little town,
and we don’t know how much He weighed,
and we don’t know what colour His hair was,
and he first slept in a manger  – not in a comfortable crib.

And as I asked their parents
if they would raise their girls in such a way
that through home and church, and them,
they would come to know the love of God made known in Jesus,
the girls turned and looked loving towards them.
And having asked the Godparents if they would fulfil their role
I baptized the girls in turn, from the oldest to the youngest.
It was a precious moment.

And reminding them, and all of us,
that Jesus said one time,
“Let the children come to me,
for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven,”
they were welcomed into that Kingdom  -
a kingdom where the love of God and love for each other matters most.

If ever one needed an affirmation
of the promise of life,
                   and the goodness of love,
all they had to do was see this family  -
two loving parents and four lovely girls –
and a brief moment where with a little bit of water
this place was brightened up
like a star brightened up a Bethlehem night.

Just think of it.
On Christmas Eve a little girl set a Raggedy Ann doll beside a baby
I am sure she thought was the Baby Jesus
and stroked its head to stop it from crying.
On the day after Christmas a little girl sang a song about a twinkling star
as lovely as the angels sang the night our Saviour was born.
And on that same day, in faith and love,
two parents stood with their four girls as they were baptized and welcomed,
as we are all welcomed, into God’s kingdom.

In those real moments affirmations were made:
affirmations by children and parents about the love of God for us all.
They twinkled, twinkled, as Paul said
“like stars that brighten up this dark world
like stars that brighten up the night.
And like those stars that reflect the sun’s glory after the darkness has fallen,
they spelled out the promise of the coming dawn” –
the Light of the World for us all.

SOLI  DEO  GLOIA
To God Alone The Glory