While it may be considered foolish, I deeply believe that one good sermon can change the world. I know that can sound arrogant on the one hand and naive on the other, but I have realized that, for me, it is a crucial part of the process of crafting a sermon. It pushes me in my work; if I am going to preach at all why, then I had better give it everything I have because, if done right, it can have an immense impact. There is no excuse for shortcuts or laziness; there is too much at stake. A well-preached sermon can be throwing someone a life ring when drowning in despair, whereas a poorly preached one is like forcing their head underwater when they come up gasping for air. But when a sermon is done right, when the law of God does its work to condemn the proud and arrogant, and his Gospel gives healing to the broken, when it hits them where they are why, then there can be real change, even world-defining change.

Or at least that is my hope. And it really is my hope. Even when I go to other churches to preach, I often think to myself that if I can just get this right, if the delivery is on point and the message clear, I can impact this place, even in just one sermon. (You know, when I say it out loud, it really does sound kind of arrogant.) But my point isn’t to highlight my preaching ability or to compare myself to other preachers but to focus on the task, on the office of the ministry of the Word of God. The Word of God is the root of faith and gives hope and promise to our lives. It happens all the time in pulpits worldwide, in little conversations between friends, lecture halls, and counseling centers. Wherever the Word of God is proclaimed from one person to another, there is an opportunity to change the world.

Now, this belief of mine is regularly challenged by a very uncooperative world. The change I hope will happen isn’t readily visible. The world can seem too broken, too warped, and too perverted to be changed. To think that a sermon, that a preached Word of God, can have an impact is perhaps foolhardy. We may well rejoice and celebrate Christmas in the comfort of our homes surrounded by those we love, but there are many who face a far more complicated holiday. Broken families bring stress and disappointment. Our hearts are not just marked by joy and gratitude but by regret and shame. Then, there is the reality of the grave that has stolen the love and companionship once rejoiced in, making Christmas a time of renewed sorrow. Add to all this the financial stresses that fill our hearts with worry and fear. Or the ever-present reality of wars and rumors of wars that rob many of hope. How could a Word make a dent? How could a Word change anything?

And yet, at the beginning of John’s Gospel, we hear just such a story, a story of a Word that changes the world. His Christmas story has nothing to do with shepherds tending their flocks by night, and there is no visitation of angels to Mary or Joseph. It is a story rooted in the creation of the world, a story as old as the foundations of the mountains and as deep as the seas. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” A Word is on the move; the Word is on the move. The Word that made all things, the eternal Word that spoke all things into being, comes as a light shining in the darkness, a light that the darkness, for all its rage, cannot overcome.

This Word of God comes, and it changes everything. John says that this Word “came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.” This Word gives new birth and makes the faithful into God’s children. The Word of God crashes into your life and gets to work. It begins, no doubt, through condemnation. Your pride, selfish desires, and ignorance of sin are all exposed. Slowly, you become aware that you cannot change yourself, you cannot fix what is broken, you are sinners through and through, and you have fallen short of the glory of God in your thoughts, words, and deeds, for the Word is a plumb line dividing between right and wrong. The Word comes at you in commands and decrees that you have not kept; it shines light on the things you would rather keep safely in the darkness. It leaves you without an angle to barter for a better deal.

In our humility, we confess that we cannot do it, that we cannot live as we are called to live, that we regularly do what we know we shouldn’t do, and that we fail to do what we are supposed to. This is the work of the Word. The solution, the answer, and the hope for each and every one of us lies outside of our work and effort. The solution is in that very Word of God that leaves us empty-handed. John says, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” The Word became flesh; the Word dwelt among us, and the Word would do what we could never do. The Word was faithful to the Father; the Word was without spot or stain; the Word would die in your place and pay the price for your salvation; he would go all the way for your hope and assurance. This Word made flesh, was born of Mary in the little town of Bethlehem, born under the law, born to save you. This Word changes the world.

And so, this Christmas, once again, I am reminded of the great work of the Word of God—a Word that not only created the world but now changes it. A Word that you speak to one another as you confess, forgive, and love as God has loved you. A Word that I have been sent to proclaim to you over and over again. So perhaps the change isn’t as visible as I would like it to be; it isn’t highly publicized. But for the hurting, the lonely, the broken-hearted sinner, why, for them, for you, this Word changes everything. You are not cut off; you are not forsaken; you are loved and forgiven. In Christ our Lord, in the Word made flesh, you are born again; you are the children of God and heirs of eternal life. Now, that is worth celebrating, not only on Christmas morning but every moment of every day.