Summary: Evangelistic sermon on a Nativity Sunday
We have seen this morning that Jesus is the way, and that we should seek to follow the way.
Whenever you go on a journey, the first thing to decide is where you are going! The disciples asked Jesus, “We do not know where you are going, and how can we know the way?” Jesus was talking about going back to heaven. He had lived there before being born in this world. He knew the way because He had already been there. It is so much easier to know the way if you have already been there before. The disciples didn’t know how to get to heaven. Jesus then immediately tells them, “I am the way …..”
If you want to go to heaven then how do you get there?
You can try and find the way yourself. Consult this person, consult that person, try your best. Try and work it out for yourself. You will soon realise that you are on the wrong path.
The truth is we are all lost. We don’t know the way to heaven.
We used to have a family tradition when I was a child. Every year wherever we went on holiday we got lost. People get lost in the car for two reasons.
The first is that they do not realise that they are lost. You seem to be following the map perhaps, and then suddenly you see a sign or a road and when you find it on the map you realise you are miles from where you were hoping to be. Sometimes you are ignorant about the fact that you are lost. Joseph M. Stowell tells a story about his worst Christmas experience -
We were on our annual Christmas trek to Chicago. Each year we brought our family to spend time with Grandpa and Grandma and visit the museums. This year we decided to finish our Christmas shopping at suburban Woodfield Mall. In the midst of all the fun and excitement, one of us noticed that little three-and-a-half- year-old Matthew was gone. Terror immediately struck our hearts. We had heard the horror stories: little children kidnapped in malls, rushed to a rest room, donned in different clothes and altered hairstyle, and then swiftly smuggled out, never to be seen again...We split up, each taking an assigned location. Mine was the parking lot. I’ll never forget that night--kicking through the newly fallen snow, calling out his name at the top of my lungs. I felt like an abject fool, yet my concern for his safety outweighed all other feelings.
Unsuccessful, I trudged back to our meeting point. My wife, Martie, had not found him, nor had my mother. And then my dad appeared, holding little Matthew by the hand. Our hearts leapt for joy. Matthew was oblivious to the panic that we all had. He hadn’t been crying, he wasn’t upset. To him, there had been no problem.
I asked my father where he had found him. "The chocolate counter," he replied. "You should have seen him. His eyes came just about as high as the chocolate bars. He held his little hands behind his back and moved his head back and forth, surveying all the luscious options." Matthew didn’t look lost. He didn’t know he was lost. He was oblivious to the phenomenal danger he was in. This is a chocolate culture, where people who don’t look lost and don’t know they’re lost live for consumption.