Dear friends, Christmas is a time of year when our thoughts turn to family and friends and being with loved ones.  Each time we see a nativity, we're reminded of that fleeting moment when the holy parents first gazed upon the child.  The trip was over, the birth pains were in the past, and parenthood had begun.  What were they thinking?  What were they pondering as they looked at their baby?  Do any of you parents remember how you felt when you saw your firstborn and realized all the parental joys and potential heartaches ahead?

          Those first hours in the stable were a short and sweet repose from the reality that lay ahead.  There's not been a parent who has never worried about the child he or she was bringing into this world.  What kind of a world are we giving them, and what kind of child they will become?  Even the relatives and neighbors can worry.  "What's to become of this child?" they asked in this Bible passage, and so do we.

          It's been this way since Eve gave birth to her sons and one killed the other.  It was that way when Jacob saw bitter rivalry arise among his twelve sons, and it was the same when Elizabeth and Zechariah saw their child John being born.  The Bible says, "Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, 'What then is this child going to be?'  For the Lord's hand was with him."

          It almost seems as if the relatives are more worried about the baby than his parents.  Perhaps they thought Zechariah and Elizabeth were too old to care for a newborn.  Already they questioned the choice of his name.  Though a popular name in Jewish homes, the name John was unknown in theirs.  "John" means "God has been gracious," gracious indeed, since God had great plans for him.  He would be the promised prophet, greater than Elijah, the one who'd prepare the way for the Chosen One born a few months later of the Virgin Mary.  And there were, of course, rumors about the angels.  All this was unusual, unsettling.  'What then is this child going to be?' the people wondered.

          Children can be unsettling.  As they develop, they often disappoint their parents, and some of this is our own fault.  We dream of how our kids should be, and they turn out another way.  We'd like them to fit a certain mold, but they shape their own.  That's how it should be, but still we'd like them to be made of a fabric somewhat like ours.

          It's doubtful John turned out anything like his family imagined.  Tradition has it he was orphaned at an early age and grew up among the Essenes, a desert community south of Jerusalem responsible for copying and preserving the Dead Sea Scrolls.  Life there was difficult.  Essenes lived on little and depended on God for everything.  And as he grew, John spoke his mind in a way some found to be offensive.

          John became a desert prophet proclaiming the day of the Messiah's coming.  The baptism he employed came out of Jewish ritual bathing, a baptism of self-renewal and rededication.  But John the Baptizer added a key ingredient, repentance, a holy attitude that would help change lives.  His message was simple, "Don't come to me if you're not willing to change your ways!" (Luke 3:8)  For many, he was a great man, but others merely an interesting prophet.  He was their "prophet du jour," the latest desert celebrity who brought some excitement into a dull existence.

          Like charismatic figures today, John had all kinds of followers.  Some were the rich with time on heir hands, and others aimless ne'er-do-wells seeking direction.  This child wondered about by relatives never owned more than the clothes on his back, but his reputation for honesty was second only to his cousin Jesus.  His message prepared them for the greater message of his cousin.  John would have to decrease in importance, but Jesus would increase. (John 3:30)

          Sometimes our kids turn out far better than we expect.  My father's youngest brother, Francis, was nearly 20 years younger than my Father.  Dad once told me his mother used to worry about Francis who did poorly in school seemed much slower than the others.  "What's to become of our Francis?" she often asked him privately.  But Francis surprised them all.  He married Gladys, a woman from the North Carolina hills and together they worked successfully in the upholstery business for nearly fifty years.  Some of their work was so excellent that it made its way into the North Carolina state legislature.  As they neared retirement, Francis bought some land from his brother-in-law.  They discovered those forty acres of "worthless trees and rocks" held nearly a million cubic yards of pure gravel and underneath it all, a fortune in precious metals.  "Our Francis," the one Grandmother worried about, died a millionaire, the richest of anyone in our family.

          John the Baptizer would never be rich, just more remembered than anyone thought.  He would preach a truth that would shock the commoner and shame kings.  He would be greater than his worried relatives could imagine.  He would introduce Jesus as "the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world." (John 1:29).

          I'm not sure John always knew the meaning of his words, but that's how it is with a prophet.  God gives him a complex message, and listeners think he's off his rocker.  "Who does he think he is?" people ask of the one who speaks God's truth.  How easy it is to pass off God's message as meaningless chatter.  How hard it is to take seriously God's message that comes amid the tinsel and glitter of Christmas.  "Christ the Savior is born," we sing, oblivious to the eternal consequences of our words.

          On a wall of the museum of the Dachau concentration camp is a large and moving photograph of a mother and her little girl standing in a line going to one of the gas chambers.  The child, who is walking in front of her mother, does not know where she is going.  The mother, who walks behind, does know, but she is helpless to stop what is to come.  In her helplessness she performs the only act of love left.  She places her hands over her child's eyes so she will for a few moments be spared the horror that is to come.

          This may well be what Zechariah felt about his son as he said, "And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him." (Luke 1:76-77)  As a priest Zechariah knew the difficult life of a Hebrew prophet.  He knew life was usually shortened by one's enemies.  Though Zechariah was a proud father, he too, must silently have wondered, "What's to become of this child?"

          John the Baptizer had a short and inglorious career by today's standards.  His garment of camel's hair was the harshest of fabrics, total opposite of today's luxurious camel hair jackets.  He ate locusts dipped in honey - high in protein but bitter sweet.  His message left no one untouched -- everyone to clean up his act.  John had a few disciples, and in the end his message cost him his life.  No matter how popular you are, you can't criticize a king without paying the price.  This John, wondered about by all, became greatest of prophets, for he prepared the way for the Son of God.

          That Son of God is our Savior.  That baby in the manger is God in the flesh.  God's first earthly breath smelled of hay and dung, of sweat and smoke.  The eternal love of the Father brought His Son into an unclean world, a world He Himself would cleanse by giving up His life.  "What's to become of this child?" thought Mary and Joseph, and later they found out.  He who was so loved by his mother and foster father would be hated by the religious.  He who tasted the sweat and smoke of the stable would taste the same on a cross for the sins of an unclean world.

          We don't know how our children will turn out.  They will alternately fill us with pride and break our hearts.  My brother Billy raised a lot of cain when he was young.  He drank and caroused far too much and brought many grey hairs to his parents.  He was on a first name basis with all the cops.  But then he went to college and became a high school shop teacher.  For 35 years he shared his artistic skills with thousands of boys and girls.  He called me yesterday morning and we talked about our boys, wondering how they'll turn out.  It's always great to see our children get along better with time.  Mary and Joseph, Zechariah and Elizabeth knew their sons were destined for greatness, but only today can we see the consequences of what they did.  Praise God we are recipients of their greatness.  Christ the Savior is born!  Amen

Copyright © 2000 by Pastor Bob Tasler.  All rights reserved.