Sermon for the First Sunday after Christmas, Year A (12-28-25)
The Rev. Drake Douglas
Readings: Isaiah 61:10-62:3;
Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7;
John 1:1-18;
Psalm 147:1-12
Christmas trains us to ask a particular question, and often without realizing it. We begin to ask, "What am I getting?" And not just what gifts will I receive - but, what feelings should this season deliver—joy, peace, wonder, hope? Even in worship we can slip into that mindset. Will this service move me? Will it help me feel like it's Christmas?
But the gospel interrupts that question with another, deeper one: Not, what will we get? But, who do we belong to?
From the beginning, the Christian faith has confessed that Christmas is not about consumption, but about communion. Not about acquiring something, but about being claimed by someone. Christmas is nothing less than the eternal Son of God - God from God, Light from Light - taking flesh for us and make one giant leap in the project of salvation.
Paul names this mystery in Galatians today: “When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law.” This is not sentimental language. It is theological precision. The Son is truly sent by the Father. He is truly born of Mary. He truly enters our human condition, subject to the law, subject to weakness, subject even to death. And then Paul tells us why: “In order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.”
Redemption comes before adoption - and this order of operations is critical. Christ does not simply affirm us as we are; he saves us. He enters our bondage to sin and death in order to liberate us. And having redeemed us, he does something even more astonishing—he restores us to what we were created to be. Children of God.
Adoption is not just metaphorical sentiment here - it's salvation’s goal. We aren't merely forgiven sinners; we are incorporated into Christ. We are brought into the Son’s own relationship with the Father by the power of the Holy Spirit. And John’s Gospel - poetic and rich - intones the same truth in cosmic language. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” The one born in Bethlehem is not a created messenger or a spiritual teacher. He is the eternal Word through whom all things were made. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”
This is both the scandal and the glory of Christian faith: God does not save us from a distance. God saves us by drawing near. The Word assumes our humanity so that our humanity might be healed, restored, and drawn into divine life. John then says, “To all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God.” Notice this language carefully. This is not self-made spirituality. This is not moral achievement. This is not simply leaving the world better than we found it. This is grace. To receive Christ is to receive what God has done for us in him, and to trust that his life, death, and resurrection are sufficient.
The manger tells us what kind of God this is. God does not arrive in power that overwhelms. God arrives in humility that invites. The Son of God comes not as a consumer of our devotion but as a gift given for the life of the world. He comes dependent, vulnerable, and small, revealing that salvation is not something we purchase, but something we receive.
And because of this, Christmas becomes a bit like Halloween, actually. Christmas speaks directly to our deepest fears. We fear that we are not enough. We fear that we have failed too often. We fear that we must earn our place even with God. But the Incarnation declares otherwise. God becomes what we are so that we might realize and accept - by grace - what Christ is and what we are. Beloved children of God.
Paul makes this unmistakably Trinitarian: because we are children God sends the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” Salvation is not merely a legal change; it is a relational reality. The Spirit unites us to Christ and teaches us to pray with Christ’s own voice.
And in this life-long conversion we also begin to adopt Christ's own heart. The love of doing the will of God. The constant pull for communion with God, and seeking warmth and meaning in the service to God's creation.
Salvation. Then adoption. Then transformation.
This is not consumer religion. This is covenant love. Consumers are anxious because belonging is conditional. Children rest because belonging is secure. Consumers are valued for performance. Children are valued because they are loved. At Christmas, the Church does not celebrate a feeling. We confess a truth: that in Jesus Christ, God has acted decisively to save, adopt, and dwell with us. God does not hand us a receipt or a set of terms. God gives us a Son—and in that Son, gives us a home.
So this Christmas, receive the gift the Church has proclaimed for centuries. Receive Christ. Receive forgiveness. Receive adoption. Receive transformation. And hear the good news at the heart of the Incarnation: in Christ, you are no longer a slave to sin, but a child. And if a child, then an heir by the grace of God.
Amen.

