Today is a cold and dreary December day. A constant drizzle falls, and the sun appears feeble, unable to force its rays through the clouds. The half-light leaves me with the sense that I have not quite fully woken up. Christmas day is around the corner and after 6 years of living in France our beach time, sun-soaked Christmas’ from South Africa are banished to mere memory. The annual laments of the season sound out on social media, now as common place as carols in the store. It just would not feel like Christmas without them. Today I find myself reading from a non-traditional text at Christmas time. Rather than the stories of Jesus’ birth in Matthew and Luke, it was the words of John the Baptist that moved me. “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, but whoever rejects the Son will not see life, for God’s wrath remains on him” (Jn 3:36 NIV).

I have read these words many times before. Today they hit differently. I began to think about what it means to be a focus of God’s wrath. A role that each one of us once occupied and many still do. It is not something my mind can process. To have the King of creation, all that is, was and ever will be, focus His tremendous power on me because of my rebellion against Him. Awesome and terrifying, I have no way of processing His holiness or His deserved wrath. I am aware that I am just not good enough; my very best efforts fall short. My sin has driven a wedge between us so deep that my acts of justice, kindness, serving, and love are still filthy rags, unable to meet His standards of righteousness on my own. At one point, the whole world was in this place. Every human being, pursuing separation from Him. We are dead in our sins.

But God.

God did not leave it that way. Our sin separated us, but He came to us, Jesus as Emmanuel, so that we would have life. More than life. In Him everything changes. We move from death to life, from darkness to light, from alien to son. We are transformed from a subject of wrath to one of overwhelming affection. It is a gift so profound that it shapes our entire reality, rewrites our past and secures our future. But only some of us.

Only some of us. The gift is free, the gift is for everyone who wants it but not everyone knows that it is available and not everyone who does, wants it. John makes clear what Jesus will later teach again, not everyone will experience life. Not everyone will accept the offer for peace with their creator. Not everyone will call Him Father. Some will remain subjects of His wrath. Two intensely different emotions wash over me in waves as I contemplate this truth. The first is deep joy, that amid all our failures, Jesus came. Amid suffering, mourning, disappointment and all the evils the dark consequences of sin bring, Jesus loved us and came for us. None of us deserved it. Yet He came to die on our behalf. To become the subject of wrath on our behalf. Knowing Jesus changes everything.  At the same time, I am devastated for those who do not know this yet. How could I keep such life-altering news to myself? It is not going to turn out ok for everyone. That is what the Bible teaches us. Leaving them be, is going to help no one. Will I delight in my Christmas feast and let others stand around the table and starve? It was not so long ago that I was hungry and did not know that food was available. There is room at the table for anyone and everyone. Am I willing to invite them? Yes, the risk is there, many will scoff at the bread of life on offer to them, convinced their scraps and crumbs are better. Jesus tells the parable of the great banquet with plenty of room at the table. Many reject the invitation, but the servants are sent out to find anyone and everyone and offer them a place at the feast. Christmas is a reminder of the incredible gift of Christ to us all, it is also a reminder of how hungry the world is for the very real hope we know. It is celebration and commission, both in tension. Not just an event that happened and is remembered, but an event that has real world consequence for our everyday lives. When we pause and remember, let it be in this way. Celebration and commission. As we contemplate the coming of Christ, may we be stirred with gratefulness and compassion.