Thread

24. December 2025

Christmas Midnight

Luke 2

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

Midnight is not accidental. If you came tonight because you love the quiet, the candlelight, the hymns that feel older than you—and maybe older than your troubles—good. The Church meets at this hour on purpose. Not because we’re trying to be dramatic, but because midnight fits the truth.

The darkness is not only “out there.” It’s in here. And yet tonight is not a scolding service. It’s a rescue celebration. Isaiah calls it “the land of the shadow of death” (Isaiah 9:2). That’s not moody poetry. It’s a plain description of life in a world that breaks down. Bodies age. Relationships strain. Joy gets interrupted. Guilt clings. Even in the good seasons, there’s a quiet awareness that we can’t keep everything we love.

But here is the Christmas shock: God does not stand at a distance and shout instructions into the dark. He comes in. “For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given” (Isaiah 9:6). Not an idea. Not a slogan. A Child. A Son. Given. And Isaiah dares to name Him “Mighty God” (Isaiah 9:6). The One who made the stars enters His own story as a baby you could hold.

That is why we can be joyful tonight without being shallow. Christmas joy is not denial. It’s defiance. It looks the darkness in the face and says: God has stepped into it, and He is not leaving until it’s dealt with. 

Luke tells the story with stubborn concreteness: an emperor, a census, a journey, a town, a manger. “And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger” (Luke 2:7). This is not a myth floating above history. God lands in the middle of it.

And notice the sign the angels give to the shepherds. It’s not a special feeling. It’s not a light show. It’s a baby. “This will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger” (Luke 2:12). That means God chose smallness. God chose closeness. God chose a real human body—one that could be tired, hungry, wounded, and yes, mortal.

And that’s the point. If our deepest problem were ignorance, a teacher would be enough. If our deepest problem were lack of motivation, an example would be enough. If our deepest problem were stress, a few coping skills would be enough.

But our deeper problem is corruption—sin that doesn’t just scratch the surface but bends the heart and ends in death. We don’t just do wrong things; something is wrong with us. The world is not merely confused; it is decaying. And we can’t reverse that from the outside.

So God does something far more radical than sending advice. He enters the very thing that is killing us, to kill it. That’s why Christmas is already aimed at Easter. The manger already points to the cross. The swaddling cloths already whisper about burial linens. The wood of the feeding trough already foreshadows the wood of Calvary. This Child did not come mainly to improve your life. He came to give you His life, because death had you in its grip.

Here is truth, simple and bright: the victory comes through substitution. Not generic “light wins.” Not vague “good triumphs.” The victory is personal, in-your-place, for-you. 

“The Son of Man came… to give His life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).
“He who knew no sin [was made] to be sin for us” (2 Corinthians 5:21).
“Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us” (Galatians 3:13).

This is why Christmas joy is sturdy. It’s not built on your performance. It’s built on His gift. The Child is already Redeemer. The salvation is already in motion, and it cannot fail. That’s also why the angels don’t come with a checklist. They preach.

“I bring you good tidings of great joy” (Luke 2:10). Good tidings—news. Announcement. Not “good advice.” Not “here are ten steps.” News means something has happened that changes everything.

And what has happened? “For there is born to you this day… a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11). A Savior. Not a life coach. Not merely an inspiration. A Savior—because you and I need saving.

Now, that’s a tender truth, but it does carry a gentle sting: it means we’re not fine on our own. We’re not just a little tired. We’re not just “finding ourselves.” We’re lost without Him. And Christmas is God’s answer to that—not with a wagging finger, but with a gift laid in a manger.

Then the song: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!” (Luke 2:14).

Peace. Not a sentimental “let’s all get along.” Peace with God—because the real barrier is addressed. Sin is not brushed aside. Judgment is not ignored. Peace is made. The war ends because the true sacrifice is provided.

And notice the direction of it all: glory goes to God because He does it. Peace comes to earth because He brings it. The angels are not applauding human potential. They are announcing divine mercy.

This is where joy breaks wide open: God is not waiting for you to get your act together before He comes near. He comes near to rescue you. He comes near to carry what you cannot carry. He comes near to take what is yours—your frailty, your vulnerability, your mortality—so that He can give you what is His: righteousness, life, and peace.

And that means the darkness has met its match.

John says it like a banner over the whole night: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1:5). The darkness doesn’t get to set the terms. The light doesn’t negotiate. It shines. It presses in. It wins.

How does it win? By going straight into the enemy’s strongest fortress: death.

That’s the astonishing strategy of God. He doesn’t dodge death. He takes it on in the flesh. He lets death strike Him—so that when He rises, death is broken from the inside.

Scripture says it plainly: “Inasmuch then as the children have partaken of flesh and blood, He Himself likewise shared in the same, that through death He might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the devil”(Hebrews 2:14). Through death… destroy. That’s Christmas aimed at the grave.

So what does this mean for us, here, tonight? It means you can finally stop pretending you can hold everything together. That’s not an accusation; it’s an invitation. Many of us are exhausted from trying to manage what can’t be managed—our regrets, our fears, the people we love, the future we can’t control. Christmas says: you don’t have to be your own savior.

And yes, it also gently exposes a common temptation: we sometimes use the season like emotional insulation—busy enough, bright enough, loud enough to keep the heavier things at bay. But God loves you too much to leave you with distractions. He gives you something better than distraction: a Savior.

And this Savior doesn’t stay theoretical. He attaches His victory to you. He put His Name on you in Baptism. “As many of us as were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death… that… we also should walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:3–4). That means His death counts as yours, and His resurrection life is already working in you.

And He feeds you with the very Body and Blood that death could not hold. “Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day” (John 6:54). Christmas does not end with a memory. It continues with gifts—given, delivered, received.

So, hear this as simply as possible: Christianity is not mainly “be better.” It’s “be rescued.” It’s not “climb up to God.” It’s “God comes down to you.” The heart of it is not your effort. It’s His mercy. And if you’re a die-hard Lutheran, don’t let familiarity dull your wonder. We are hearing again the best news there is: God has come in the flesh to overthrow death. Not manage it. Not soften it. Overthrow it. Midnight proclaims what daylight often tries to ignore: death is beaten, not merely postponed.

And therefore Christmas joy is not fragile. It is anchored. “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Isaiah 9:2). Not a mood. Not a metaphor. A Person. So sing the hymns like people who have been given peace. Hear the angels like people who have been claimed by a Savior. And carry this with you into whatever comes next: the light has entered the darkness, and the darkness will not win.

“For unto us a Child is born… and the government will be upon His shoulder… and of the increase of His government and peace there will be no end” (Isaiah 9:6–7). The Light does not bargain with the darkness. It overwhelms it.

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

Rev. Christopher R. Gillespie
St. John Ev. Lutheran Church & School - Sherman Center
Random Lake, Wisconsin