Christmas Eve Service – December 24 @ 4 p.m.
If you don’t know me, my name is Ryan. I’m one of the pastors here, and I get to launch us into our Christmas series.
I was thinking that Christmas traditions have power. Think of how Christmas traditions influence us. I was thinking of music in particular. In one way, if you’re in the service industry or you work in the retail world, you are more aware than anybody else in the world of how much Christmas music is played this time of year. You listen to it whether you want to or not. It’s coming at you.
Christmas affects the food we eat. If you’re a Ferguson on Christmas morning, there will be cheese strudel. It’s a rule. It has to happen.
It affects what people drink. Did you know, for Welch’s grape juice, there’s a disproportionate amount of revenue from sparkling grape juice sales that peak in December?
It makes us move. Christmas traditions make us travel. In 2024, 119.3 million people traveled more than 50 miles for the Christmas holidays, rendering the chorus “I’ll be home for Christmas” prophetic.
House decor. It changes what we have in our houses. As comedian Jim Gaffigan offers, at Christmas, “let’s chop down a tree and bring it inside and take our lights and put them outside.” It moves everything. It has power.
The church also has powerful traditions, things that we do at this time of year, and we’ve done them annually. I think that there are scripture passages that many of us think have to be read at Christmas for it to actually be Christmas. I believe that so much, I think many of you—especially if you grew up in the church—can actually fill in the blanks of passages that we always read at Christmas. So we’re going to actually give it a whirl. We’re going to put it up on the screen and see if you can, out loud, with a little Christmas spirit, fill in the blanks of a couple of verses. Here we go.
“In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered” (Luke 2:1).
Pretty good. Now that’s a slow pitch. That’s an easy one. Let’s see the next verse. See if you can do this one.
“This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria” (Luke 2:2).
Okay, not bad. You’re spiritual, a little bit. Maybe not as much as first service, but we’ll get there. We can even do this in the Old Testament. Let’s see if you can get some out of the Old Testament. Isaiah 9:6,
“…and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).
Yeah, like, you have to have Luke 2 and Isaiah read this time of year. We use passages like this to focus on the incarnation: the reality that God, in the person of Jesus, came into reality and time as a human, born of the Virgin Mary, through the power of the Holy Spirit. We focus on that often this time of year.
But powerful traditions can also be tricky. What I mean by that is we can compartmentalize the humanity of Jesus, of Jesus being in the manger. That’s Jesus being human. We can almost overfocus by accident that Jesus’s humanity is equivalent to him being a baby born in the manger.
Jesus’s life continues to matter after the decorations are taken down, after New Year’s resolutions are chosen and broken, and we enter the doldrums of February. His humanity still matters. So this year, we want to expand the conversation about the tradition of focusing on the humanity of Jesus.
Why does the humanity of Jesus matter to me every day? And it does. Why does it matter to me and you and us every day? So as a church, we’re going to take the next four weeks to explore four passages in Hebrews that describe why the humanity of Jesus matters every day.
Hebrews is a key book in the history and lore of North Hills Church. 20 years ago, on November 20th, 2005, we finished a one-year study of the book of Hebrews. For some of us old timers, we look back on that study with fondness because it had a deep impact on many.
Peter Hubbard summarized the entire book of Hebrews with this statement: Keep at it; he’s worth it. Keep at it: Jesus is worth it.
The author passionately speaks to suffering and persecuted believers, delivering a message of strong encouragement. He says that Jesus is better than the angels, better than Moses, better than the temple, a better way to God, a better covenant, and a better sacrifice.
Because Jesus is better, he’s worth enduring the suffering and persecution we may experience in this life. Jesus is so valuable, it makes our present suffering worth it, so we keep at it.
Would you say this out loud with me? “Keep at it, Jesus is worth it.” Here we go. Keep at it, Jesus is worth it.
The author’s encouragement to keep at it reveals that something threatens keeping at it. There’s something out there that’s going to make us want to give up and stop. The recipients of Hebrews were under daily suffering and persecution and threats.
Have you considered what could be a threat in your life that would make you want to give up, to stop, to not keep at it? As I thought about it, I think some might say, “Well, the greatest threat to life is the devil, right?” We have an enemy. A friend of Jesus’s named Peter wrote this, 1 Peter 5:8,
“Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8).
The devil. Definitely a threat to keeping at it.
What about sin, the wrong things that we might do or think? Paul, a prolific writer of scripture, seems to agree with that as well, Romans 7:21,
“So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand” (Romans 7:21).
Even when doing right, sin sits there and is trying to get me to stop and give up and not keep at it. Sin, definitely a threat.
What about self (just me)? James, half-brother of Jesus, says this, James 1:13-14,
“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God,’ for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one. But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire” (James 1:13-14).
My own wants are a threat to me keeping at it. I’m a threat to myself.
So the devil, sin, self— all of these are threats to keeping at it. But guess what? There’s another threat lurking out there this Christmas season and throughout the year that threatens your capacity to keep at it.
I think this threat is lesser known. It doesn’t get as much airtime as the other three. Compared to those, it seems oddly less dangerous. But make no mistake, this threat has taken out more than one follower of Jesus, more than one Christian pursuing holiness, more than one God-fearing, church attending, song-singing, Bible-reading, prayer-offering, child of God.
What’s the lesser-known threat? Weariness. Weariness. “I’m worn out.” “I’m sick and tired.” “The daily struggles of life have left me exhausted.” “I’m done.” “I’m at the end.” Weariness is a threat to keeping at it.
I want to do something a little different. I’d like to make this very personal and individual for just one moment:
If you resonate with the word “weariness” right now, wherever you are in life, whatever you’re experiencing, those words (weary, worn out, sick and tired, barely holding on, wondering if God is worth it) if that is part of your story and you would have the courage to do so, would you lift your hand up over your head? Now I want people to look around. Put your hand up and have people look around. So I’m going to pray.
Father, would you please let your word encourage weary people? I am convinced your word has hope for this moment. Amen.
The theme of weariness runs throughout the entire Bible. Isaiah 40:30,
“Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted” (Isaiah 40:30).
Weariness isn’t just an old man’s game. Proverbs 30:1,
“The words of Agur son of Jakeh. The oracle. The man declares, I am weary, O God; I am weary, O God, and worn out” (Proverbs 30:1).
He says it three times in a row. Even when we’re doing the right thing, there runs a risk of weariness. Galatians 6:9,
“And let us not grow weary of doing good, [you’d think doing good would be energetic work,] for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9).
“As for you, brothers, do not grow weary in doing good” (2 Thessalonians 3:13).
Weariness threatens our capacity to keep at it. But here’s the hope, and it’s rooted in who Jesus is, the human experience of Jesus (Hebrews 12:1-4):
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or faint-hearted. In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood” (Hebrews 12:1-4).
Why does the humanity of Jesus matter every day? This week’s answer is this: Because carefully considering the human experience of Jesus prevents weariness. How do we deal with weariness? How do we prevent weariness? This author says to carefully consider the human experience of Jesus.
In Hebrews, the humanity of Jesus isn’t just a Christmas scripture trivia answer. It is the source of surviving the daily threat that makes us want to give up, to not keep at it. To prevent weariness, we have to carefully consider. The author says this twice with two words: “look to” and “consider” Jesus.
Look to Jesus. Fix your attention on Jesus. Fix your attention away from all else. I think when we hear the word “looking,” we think of it as generally taking in what’s in front of us. Like, I’m looking at all of you right now. I’m taking it all in. But the author means more “stare.”
With the probable 800 people that are here, it would be like me only looking at Carissa right here for the entirety of my message. (I’m a friend of hers, she’ll be fine if I do this to her.) It would be like, for the next 25 minutes, it’s just me and Carissa in this room. Even she might get a little awkward after about five minutes. All of you would definitely be awkward. But that’s the idea. Fix your attention on Jesus. Stare at him.
Consider Jesus. Think thoroughly and ponder carefully. Considering Jesus is active, time-taking, energy-using work.
I’ve thought of this a couple of times, that I would really like to go to Belgium with my wife, Rebecca, at Christmas. I’ve thought of a couple of things, like we might go into Brussels and see the live nativity and the light show, maybe go to a festival. I’ve thought of maybe some friends that would go with us, to make it more fun.
It’s kind of a daydream. It’s passed through my mind, but I’ve not considered it. I’ve not thought about it thoroughly. I haven’t pondered it carefully. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have supporting material for the idea.
Considering Jesus is not a daydream about Jesus. It’s not three points we might know about Jesus. It’s thorough. We need extensive considering and pondering of Jesus to prevent the threat of weariness. Without considering Jesus, we lack the fuel to keep at it.
The author provides us the details to consider. He gives us the content. What are we supposed to ponder carefully? We’re going to do that with four questions. What are we supposed to consider? Four things.
Question #1: Who is Jesus? Who is he? He’s the founder and perfecter of our faith. He’s the initiator. He’s the originator. He’s the pioneer leader. He’s the perfecter. He’s the one who completes the task. He finishes the job.
In the middle of weariness, to prevent weariness, fix your attention on Jesus, the founder and perfecter of your faith. Your world may be crazy, your spirit may be exhausted, but don’t forget you did not start the journey of your faith. He did. It is not your sole responsibility to finish the course of your faith. He will finish it. He will perfect it in you.
Jesus, like a pioneer leader in the front of a search party, discovered you like a lost child on the streets, invited you home to meet his father, and gave you a room to live in forever. Jesus initiated a relationship with you, and Jesus will keep that relationship close for the entirety of your story.
Have you ever considered how diligent Jesus is? Jesus is responsible. He will finish what he began in you. Whatever’s happening in your life that is wearisome, Jesus is taking you through it to a final promised destination. It’s where heaven meets earth, and you’re in his presence. Jesus will finish what he started in you. Look to the founder and perfecter of your faith.
Question #2: What did Jesus endure? We’re considering Jesus to prevent weariness. Well, what did Jesus endure? Two things in the text: the cross and hostility.
“Looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross—” (Hebrews 12:2a)
The cross is not a churchy metaphor. The cross was a raw and painful experience. It is a death of blood loss, broken bones, and asphyxiation. The author is saying to ponder the human experience of Jesus on the cross.
But when he says “cross,” he’s doing more than just that literal moment. He’s doing it literarily. It’s literature. The author is using the cross to describe the complete experience of Jesus at the end of his life. The betrayal and abandonment of friends, enduring lies, unjust trials, mockings, beatings, a crown of thorns. Consider what Jesus endured.
I love that the author mentions one specific thing that Jesus endured on the cross. He says, “despising the shame.” He gets really specific. Consider the cross. What did Jesus do there? He despised the shame. Jesus looked down on shame. He scorned shame. Jesus was above shame.
How could that connect to preventing weariness? Why does despising shame matter? In one way, shame is uniquely exhausting because shame keeps on shaming. So the author tells us, “Hey, Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross was a pivotal moment where he dealt with shame. He did something with shame. He looked down upon it.
Consider that Jesus died on the cross as a substitutionary sacrifice for your sin and for my sin. On the cross, Jesus despised, scorned, and looked down upon shame. Jesus took care of sin and shame.
In my life, when I experience shame for things that I have done myself, or I experience shame because of things that have been done to me, the author is saying, consider the experience of Jesus in that moment.
Jesus despised the shame for you. Jesus’ human experience on the cross saved me from sin and freed me from shame. It’s a two-for-one. This one little piece, I think, is a Hebrew’s Christmas present. Open it up and realize you are free from shame.
Jesus also endured hostility. Consider him who endured such hostility, rebellion, opposition, and defiance. Jesus experienced all of that. Have you ever experienced—rejection might be a better word for us—but rejection or defiance or rebellion when you were trying to do something good?
Parents, we get this one. You literally are trying to help your child by doing something good, and their response to you as a parent is to reject or rebel or defy what you say. Defiance is uniquely painful when you receive it for doing good.
Drowning victims regularly attack lifeguards, so much so that lifeguards are taught techniques to keep themselves safe: use a flotation device, rescue from behind the person, and even, in the worst-case scenario (if that person is too aggressive and you’re in danger), you literally fight back against the victim.
Jesus absorbed physical violence and rebellious defiance while saving the victims who attacked him. So when we’re weary, the author says, consider what Jesus endured. Consider the cross, consider the hostility.
Question #3: Where is Jesus now? Where is he? He’s seated at the right hand of the throne of God.
This one might be a little different because how is Jesus being seated at the right hand of the throne of God a human experience? We might consider that a divine experience, but Luke, a brilliant biographer of Jesus, uniquely records Jesus’s last earthly event, the last thing Jesus did (Luke 24:50-53). These are the last words of the book of Luke:
“And [Jesus] led [his disciples] out as far as Bethany, and lifting up his hands he blessed them. While he blessed them, he parted from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple blessing God”(Luke 24:50-53).
In modern terms, this story is an easter egg. It’s in there to spark our imagination. What we’re coming out of in the book of Luke, right there, is Jesus’s resurrection and events after he was resurrected. Jesus was resurrected in a perfect human body. He reunites with his disciples. He shares a couple meals (bread in one and fish in another).
Then he says, Jesus ascended to heaven in that resurrected, physical body: the body that people saw and touched. The body that ate a fish sandwich. So the conclusion is, Jesus is perpetually and perfectly human. Jesus is perpetually and perfectly human. Human at the right hand of the throne of God.
That has to mean something for us. That he’s still perfectly human. Jesus talks about this a lot, and John recorded it. How can that connect to us? Jesus being carried up as a human. John puts it this way (all of these are Jesus’s words):
“And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me [“nothing” is people. I won’t lose any of the people God gave to me, but do what?], but raise it up on the last day. For this is the will of my Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day” (John 6:39-40).
“No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. And I will raise him up on the last day” (John 6:44).
“Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?’” (John 11:25-26)
Why does it matter where Jesus is right now in his perfect humanity? Because Jesus promised all of us who believe, live, and follow him the same experience. We get to be raised up like he was carried up. Our destination will be the same place as his.
Jesus’s human experience at the right hand of God gives us hope that our real life is more than the sufferings and persecutions of this world. Our real, perfect human experience is still in the future. So don’t give up, weary people. There is a future coming you can’t imagine. Don’t give up. Keep at it. He’s worth it.
Question #4. From whom did Jesus endure hostility? From whom did Jesus endure hostility?
“Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself…” (Hebrews 12:3a)
Jesus endured rebellion and defiance from people who missed God’s standard. People like Pharisees and religious leaders who criticized, set traps, lied, manipulated, and worked with an occupying government to kill Jesus. Jesus endured their hostility and died to save them.
The disciples often didn’t understand Jesus. They squabbled for better positions. They actually denied knowing Jesus and ran away when he was being killed. Jesus endured their hostility and died to save them.
Crowds of Jews, Jesus’s own people, only a week before he died, were cheering him through Jerusalem, waiting for social and political redemption. A week later, they freed a real criminal and chanted, “Crucify Jesus.” Jesus endured that hostility and died to save all of those people.
People like Ryan Ferguson, who for ages after Jesus died continued to rebel, defy, and oppose him. Jesus endured my hostility and died to save me.
Consider what Jesus endured to prevent weariness: the cross and hostility.
The author of Hebrews gives us all of the supporting material. Consider all of this: who Jesus is (the founder and perfecter), what Jesus endured (hostility and the cross), where Jesus is now (human, seated at the right hand of the throne of God), from whom did he endure hostility (people who missed the mark). Consider that “so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted” (12:3b).
Fainthearted: you’re going to lose, give up, give out. “Fainthearted” is a compound word. That word “hearted” is literally soul, your life, your breath. Faintheartedness is a hopeless heart, a soul surrender. It’s when life’s breath is knocked out of you.
The sufferings and situations and potential persecutions of this life snowball, pile up, and multiply, and we find ourselves struggling for air, just hoping to hold on for a little bit more. As John Piper poetically wrote about weariness and suffering:
“I cling with feeble fingers to the ledge of your great grace.”
Just clinging and holding on for all we’re worth. Weary people, and those in this room who said you’re not weary (you’re getting ready to face weariness), carefully consider the human experience of Jesus.
Now, at this point, you could rightly ask me, but how does it work? You’ve told me to do some things (i.e. carefully consider). We’ve looked at what we’re supposed to consider out of Hebrews, but does that mean if I just think through all of those things that I won’t ever be weary? Or that, if I am weary, it’ll all disappear, and I’ll be fine? That’s not how it works.
Carefully considering the human experience of Jesus is a reality check. That’s how it works for us. That’s what it does. It gives us a reality check.
I have, for about 20 years, Monday to Thursday, gotten up very early in the morning. It’s a pattern of my life. About 4:45, I wake up, I try to be quiet so I don’t wake up Rebecca, and of course, I don’t turn on any lights, but I am perpetually scared of stubbing my toe, which I think is the worst pain in the world.
I can’t see anything in my room until I tap the front of my phone and use it as a really light, barely able to see anything flashlight, and I can make my way through. That little phone illuminates the reality of my room.
Carefully considering the human experience of Jesus illuminates the reality of our daily life. It lets us see what’s really going on and lets us make some conclusions. It’s like we’re given these illuminated realities about life when we carefully consider Jesus.
Illuminated reality #1: We can conclude, in weariness, I’m not sinning. Weariness is a threat, not a sin.
If you raised your hand because you’re weary, guilt and shame are not the intended or appropriate response for you. This passage right here is comfort, not confrontation. Weariness is the result of suffering, burden, and potentially sin that we’ve committed or been committed to us. But weariness itself is not sinning.
Weariness is something we’re all going to face. We might be in it right now or it’s coming to us. Weariness in the book of Hebrews is assumed. That’s why he’s providing us preventative measures, countermeasures for weariness.
The author doesn’t tell us to repent of being weary. Our response to weariness or to prevent it is to look and carefully consider who Jesus is. When we do that, we’re able to clearly see, “Okay, in this thing, I’m not sinning. I might be sinning in other areas of life, but in being weary, I’m not sinning.”
Illuminated reality #2 when we consider Jesus: I’m not alone. I’m not alone in battling weariness. We’ve never been alone in battling weariness. Why can I say that? Because of the beginning of our text. The author says,
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses…” (Hebrews 12:1a)
Because there are other witnesses here, keep on enduring. Look to Jesus.
Who are those people? You have to back up and read chapter 11, and you’ll get 17 unique stories of people who battled for their faith in the middle of weariness and made it. And one of the reasons I asked you to courageously raise your hands was so that we could see we’re not alone in being weary.
Illuminated reality #3: When we carefully consider the experience of Jesus, we can see we’re not bleeding…yet.
“In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood” (Hebrews 12:4).
The author comes in and gives everybody who will ever read this book a reality check: In your weariness right now, are you bleeding because of your battle against sin? The author isn’t diminishing how hard any type of suffering is or any type of persecution.
He would be in front of us going, “Yes, you might be weary, but are you bleeding yet?” If the answer is no, reality check. “Okay, I know where I am. I know what’s going on.” So while we carefully consider Jesus here at North Hills, we are not people who are shedding our blood…yet.
The final illuminated reality when we consider the humanity of Jesus is I’m not writing my own story. I’m not the one who gets to write out all of my life’s experiences and story, although that would be really cool. These stories from Hebrews 11 (go back and read them), all of these stories, Jesus is authoring them. He’s the founder, the author of what’s going on in your life.
When we carefully consider Jesus’s story, we can energize our own. We can remember that Jesus radically loves me to the point of dying for me and defeating sin and shame for me. My daily life is not defined by guilt and shame, but forgiveness and love.
Jesus endured the cross by looking toward “the joy that was set before him” (Hebrews 12:2b). How did Jesus endure suffering and persecution? He looked forward to something better. Even Jesus had to use future hope to survive present suffering. We’re the same. We get to look at his story and go, “Okay, you promised that even as I go through this life, that I’m going to be raised up into the experience that you have.”
I endure the weariness, struggle, suffering, and potential persecution of today by looking forward to the promised reality of being with Jesus in his presence in a new heaven and new earth forever. It’s a reality check, what’s really going on in life. This moment is not the full experience of what my real life is. The humanity of Jesus matters to us every day. Any day when you can be weary, the reality of the human experience of Jesus matters.
Monthly, as a church, we celebrate a powerful tradition that is now about 2,000 years old. It’s called communion, the Lord’s table, the Lord’s Supper, depending on what you might have heard. This is a moment where we remember the human experience of Jesus dying. Paul writes about communion this way in 1 Corinthians 11,
“For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, ‘This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ In the same way also he took the cup, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’ For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Corinthians 11:23-26).
You proclaim the human experience of Jesus dying until he comes back.
Whenever bread and wine or juice are present, God’s people have an opportunity to consider the humanity of Jesus. So we’re going to have people pass out bread and juice. Once it’s all passed around, I will come back up here, and we will consider the humanity of Jesus together.
