When I was a child, I remember my parents telling my older brother and me that we could not get out of bed on Christmas morning until the sunlight was coming through the window. I think that might have been because, in the previous year, we woke mom and dad up a good hour or two before sunrise to let them know, to their shock and surprise, that Santa had come. And let me tell you, those early morning hours talking about what we hoped Santa had brought, while keeping an eye on the brightness of the window, seemed like an eternity. Minutes stretched into hours as the excitement built at an unrelenting pace. The whole memory is so magical and full of wonder as we would finally go down the stairs to see the treasures left under the tree or the stockings hung by the chimney.

Those Christmas mornings are now a distant memory. My own kids have grown far beyond those early years of wonder and excitement. And being part of a pastor’s family, our traditions were quite different from the ones I grew up with. Since I work every Christmas Day, I found I was almost always the first one up on Christmas morning. Instead of sneaking out to get a look at the presents under the tree, I would quietly get dressed, make some coffee, and turn the lights on the tree before rousing our slumbering kids. Now, I am not sure how my children will remember Christmas mornings, and while I have great memories of seeing their little faces light up as they come into the living room, there is something else I really enjoy about Christmas morning. It is a little, selfish ritual in those moments before anyone else is up, when the house is quiet, and the tree is lit. I like to sit and ponder what it all means, to pray and give thanks for what I have been given out of the pure grace and mercy of my God.

In a way, today is a moment like that, a little, quiet moment of Christmas before Christmas. This morning, we hear the Christmas story from Matthew’s Gospel. This telling of the birth of our Lord is void of all the usual trappings that come with the celebration of Christmas. There are no shepherds tending their flocks by night, no angel choirs, and no discussion of the child wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger. Instead, Matthew tells the story from Joseph’s point of view, showing how God communicates His will through dreams. In other words, it does not have any of the things our children will act out on Christmas Eve. And this gives us all an opportunity to contemplate the meaning of Christmas in our lives.

Joseph is presented to us as a kind and faithful man. He finds out his betrothed is pregnant and decides to call off the marriage, but he resolves to do so privately, so as not to cause Mary any greater shame or public humiliation. Joseph makes this decision based on the information he has. He takes stock of what he can control and figures out a plan forward. But we are immediately told Joseph is not in control, for everything that is unfolding in his life is the work of God, and he is called to a task greater than he had ever imagined.

We read how an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.” The work of God is the sending of a Son by the Holy Spirit through Mary. This great work will begin as a baby, an infant in need of care and protection, and Joseph is to provide for that for both Mary and the child. What is unfolding in Joseph’s life is not an accident but the purposeful work of God, and it will change everything. God’s son will be born of a woman, born under the Law, to redeem those under the Law.

Sometimes, this simple proclamation gets lost in all our Christmas activities. We all have a moment like Charlie Brown in the famous Christmas special. Charlie Brown selects the little sad-looking Christmas tree for the pageant, and all the other kids make fun of him. He is so overwhelmed with the gifts, the glitter, the extravagance of the season that he finally cries out, “I guess I really do not know what Christmas is all about. Isn’t there anyone who can tell me what Christmas is all about?” And good old Linus steps up to tell him. What he does is recite the Christmas story from Luke 2. At the end, he says, “That is what Christmas is all about.” Or to put it more simply, today we might say, “Jesus is the reason for the season.”

And that name, Jesus, is important. It is the name Joseph is commanded to give the child. The name “Jesus” means “Yahweh Saves.” So, the name describes what He will do. The angel says to Joseph, “You shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.” So, we see how Linus’ answer to Charlie Brown is only half of the true meaning of Christmas. Jesus may be the reason for the season, but you are the reason for Jesus. He came for you. He came because you needed saving. He came because you are bound in sin.

As Matthew reminds us in his Christmas story, “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: ‘Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call His name Immanuel.’” Now, Immanuel means “God with us.” And the God who is with us is this child born of Mary. The God who is with us is the God who saves. God is with us in the person and work of our saving Lord. God is with you as He calls you to repent and believe the Good News. God is with you as He washes you in His righteousness and clothes you in His holy garments. God is with you as He speaks His Word of forgiveness into your ears. God is with you as He comes in, with, and under the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper, so you might not doubt but believe in His promises.

Beneath the gifts and the decorations and the pressures of this time of year, this simple truth remains, and I hope you find a quiet moment or two to take in the wonder of it all. For in the coming of God, in the birth of Christ, you will find you are not forgotten or cast off. You are loved. You are forgiven.