It was a collection of miners' shacks, a general store, and a half dozen shanty saloons, where the rough-and-tumble men of the 1849 Gold Rush spent their leisure time. It was called Roaring Camp.

Bret Harte wrote about it a hundred years ago. He told of a dissolute woman, Cherokee Sal, the only woman in the camp, who became pregnant and bore a child out of wedlock.

Harte wrote, "the situation was novel. Deaths were by no means uncommon in Roaring Camp, but a birth … well that was a new thing."

The mother did not survive the hardships of the camp's primitive conditions. The child, however, became the darling of every miner there. And despite everything, the child thrived.

With a store-bought crib and the desire for cleanliness around the infant, the miners determined that the nursery room itself had to be improved and better furniture provided.

Personal cleanliness was required throughout the settlement. If any persons hoped to hold the baby, they had to get close to soap and water first.

"And so the work of regeneration began in Roaring Camp," writes Harte. "Almost imperceptibly a change came over the settlement."

Each act of cleanliness exposed that much more dirt and filth in the vicinity, so that new measures were taken to keep an ever-wider expanse of the camp clean.

Since the baby needed rest, the camp became quieter and more dignified, less noisy and boisterous, no longer the Roaring Camp of the story's title.

The presence of that little baby changed it forever.

And so we gather on this Christmas Eve to celebrate a birth that has the ability to change our lives forever.  The birth of our Savior, our Emmanuel, God with us. 

When we affirm God’s presence in our lives we tend to live life a little cleaner, more peaceful, and certainly more loving.  And that is the real message of Christmas.

Because, you see, if you remove all the Christmas carols, the lights, the trees, the poinsettias, the presents and Santa Claus – what you have left is an amazing, miraculous story of love – a love that will never let us go. 

And the effect his birth can have on our lives – if we let it – is limitless. 

And isn’t that the message of the Gospel? Love and acceptance for the outcast, the wounded, the ones who don’t have any room in the inn…

The truth is that God comes to us, most often, not in dramatic displays of power but in the ordinary stuff of human life—like the birth of a child, like parents trying to make a home for their baby with whatever they can find, like an inn full of guests enjoying hospitality and one another’s good company late into the night; like shepherds— blue-collar, economically marginal, somehow sensing that something important is happening, dropping whatever it was they were doing and running to Bethlehem.

Revel Howe wrote, “We do not find love by looking for it. We find it by giving it, and when we find love by loving, we find God. If someone asked, ‘How can I find God?’ I would answer, ‘Go find someone to love and you will find God.’”

Who doesn’t know and love the story of Bethlehem and the birth and the angels and shepherds?

But the purpose of the story is not simply to make us feel good but to change you and me, to transform us into the kind of men and women God wants us to be.

The point of the story is quite personal, actually. It is to let each one of us know that we are loved with an infinite love.

God’s purpose is to transform us into agents of that love and through you and me—and all who this night travel to Bethlehem—to transform our families, our neighborhoods, our cities, indeed the whole world.

I saw exactly that just a couple of days ago - right here.  I was sitting at my desk and a woman I had never met before, let’s call her Shirley, entered.  Shirley is a wonderfully perky woman.  She is a proud grandmother and obviously wore her heart on her sleeve. 

She asked if she could talk with me.  Of course, I said sure – I was just sitting there, after all.  She then proceeded to tell me about an experience she’d had the night before. 

She thought she heard an unusual amount of noise coming from the apartment above her, which confused her since they were generally very quiet people. 

Shirley stepped outside and was about to ask the neighbors across the hall if maybe someone new had moved in upstairs when she realized it was coming from their very apartment.  A woman was obviously very distraught with her young son and he was now very loud and out of control. 

Shirley asked what was wrong and the woman talked about how her husband was out of work, how the bills were piling up and how this was going to be a very bleak Christmas – a Christmas without presents. And to top it off – now her son had gone off on one of his rampages and she was just beside herself.

Shirley offered to talk to the woman’s son and in doing so in a “grandmotherly way” got him to quiet down. During her visit, she was also able to make a quick survey of their apartment and as the woman had lamented, it was obviously devoid of any Christmas cheer. And that saddened Shirley’s heart.   

Something had to be done. No one, especially kids (and there were three of them), should go without Christmas. 

So she decided to go out and purchase three gift cards (one for each child) and have them delivered anonymously to the family.  And that’s where I came in – would I play Santa Claus for the family? 

Certainly I could do that and offered to throw in a Christmas basket of goodies and food as well.  Later that night she went back to the woman’s apartment and even offered them her Christmas tree (explaining that she would be out of town for Christmas and her tree needed loving attention).  It was gratefully accepted.

Shirley felt a tug at her heart and she responded with love and care.  It didn’t take a lot of effort.  It probably won’t dramatically change the lives of the family she ministered to – but it will lighten their load for just a bit and those kids will experience the wonder of Christmas yet again for another year. 

And Shirley’s invitation to me to participate in her moment of grace and love moved me too.  Often we pastors are so busy preparing worship services, paying attention to all the logistics that go with the Christmas season, that we don’t take the time to stop and really reflect on why we do what we do. 

Shirley helped me stop and remember what Christmas is all about from a very practical standpoint. And in so doing she helped to reignite a fire inside me that was just waiting to be stoked. 

God took Shirley by the hand (whether she realized it or not) and blessed that family.  God was with Shirley – Emmanuel.

What are we doing to let God walk with us and lead us by the hand to bless others?

Emmanuel, they called Jesus – God with us; and this is the truth of it. It means that God really does live here now – in our hearts and in our actions. Emmanuel means that God is forever standing at the door of our loneliness, waiting to be invited in. And when he is invited in, he wants us to return the favor. 

Emmanuel means a love so tenacious, so outrageous – a love that won’t back out on us, a love that will bear the full weight of our life-long trust.

And Emmanuel means that God in Christ, is here tonight – now. Jesus is the gift of God’s real presence every night and every day. God has come near, offering us a love that can only be received as we give it away.

I’d like to close with something I read yesterday on a Christmas card. It goes like this:

Each time we hold a hand or share a hug with one another, and each time we gather together in love…

Each time we give from our hearts and laugh from our bellies, and each time we say thank you for something that has made us smile…

Each time we look upon the heavens with wide-eyed wonder, and each time we see God in ourselves and one another …

Each time we choose to be a voice of hope and joy in the world … IT IS CHRISTMAS

May each of us feel anew a relationship that calls us to receive the one who is all of the grace of God and all of the truth of God and all of the love of God – Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us. And may each day be Christmas for us all.

Merry Christmas, my friends. 

Amen.