Our church tonight is beautiful, festive, and bright… but the story we are celebrating – the story of Christmas – began in a manner that was anything but.

Before Jesus was born, Joseph found himself in a darkness he never expected. His plans for marriage, for family, for a simple life – all of it, suddenly shattered. Mary was with child, and Joseph knew the child was not his. Imagine his shock, confusion, and hurt. 

This is the first darkness of Christmas… the darkness of a life that no longer seemed to make any sense at all.

But into that darkness, God spoke. In a dream, the angel said to Joseph: “Do not be afraid… the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” In other words: Hey, Joseph, the light is already here. You just need to trust it.

This is the way of our God… who often does His best work in the dark. That matters, because darkness comes to us in many forms.

There is the darkness of fear – fear for our families, our health, our future, our world. 

There is the darkness of division – in our communities, our politics, even in our families.

There is the darkness of loneliness – in a world more connected than ever, many of us ache for real relationship.

There is the darkness of grief – perhaps because of an empty chair at this year’s Christmas table.

There is the darkness of exhaustion – the sense that life is moving faster than we can handle.

And there is the darkness of meaninglessness – the nagging suspicion that life is just motion without purpose.

These are not ancient problems. They are our problems. They’re with us here in the pews of this church tonight. But it was into this world – our world – that God came, not with blinding brilliance, but with an infant’s cry in the night.

The light that shines in Bethlehem is not a beaming spotlight. It is a flickering flame… small and vulnerable. God enters a world not above the darkness, but within it. He does not avoid human fragility, He embraces it.

And this is where Christmas speaks directly to you and I in our modern world… 

… a world overflowing with intelligence, but starving for wisdom.

A world that celebrates freedom, but struggles to find purpose.

A world where Christianity is not relic… it is remedy.

Why is that?

Because Christianity gives us a story big enough to make sense of our lives. We’re not accidents. We’re not alone. And we’re not wandering aimlessly. Instead, we are created, known, and loved.

Because Christianity gives us a God who enters our suffering. And in Jesus, God does not watch suffering from a distance… He walks headfirst into it.

Because Christianity gives us a community called to become the light itself. Our Church is not perfect… yet it remains a beacon of hope: feeding the hungry, comforting the grieving, forgiving the sinner, welcoming the stranger, reminding the world that love is stronger than death.

For two thousand years, the Church has carried the small and vulnerable flame of an infant into dark places.

And that very same light that broke into Joseph’s darkness shines for us too. It shines for the parent overwhelmed by responsibility. It shines for the teenager searching for identity. It shines for the elderly person who wonders if they are forgotten. It shines for the person who feels far from God… yet who still showed up here tonight.

So… let’s make this into something that’s greater than just tradition. If you feel the weight of darkness, let the newborn child be your light. If you feel lost, let Him be your way. If you feel empty, let Him become your fullness. If you feel alone, let Him be Emmanuel – and let God be with you.

Because the light is already here. We just need to trust it.