You're the Expert

Luke 5:1-11
5:1 Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God,
5:2 he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets.
5:3 He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat.
5:4 When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch."
5:5 Simon answered, "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets."
5:6 When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break.
5:7 So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.
5:8 But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!"
5:9 For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken;
5:10 and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who are partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people."
5:11 When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.



SERMON                                    "You're the Expert"                    Rev. Dr. James McTyre

I have a friend whose wife tells him her next husband is going to know how to fix things.
One of our church members told me he can fix anything with a couple of YouTube videos and a beer. Or two.
The definition of an expert is a sliding scale.
All you need to be an expert is to know a little bit more than the next person.
If you can fix your mom's iPhone just once – boom – you're an expert.
Or, as they say at the Apple Store, you're a "genius."
If you're a former Baptist who can quote scripture verses from memory, you're intimidating.
To most Presbyterians.
Close enough to expert.
If you have a degree in something or a job doing it, people will assume you're an expert, whether you're good at it or not.
Simon Peter, James and John were experts.
At least, we assume they were.
They were not Bass Pro browsers.
They were fishermen.
REAL fisherpersons.
These men were not at leisure on the water.
They were professionals.
Professional fishermen.
Experts.

Except Simon Peter, James and John weren't the ESPN-type competitive fishermen with million-dollar boats and corporate sponsors.
They were more like the boys in those sunset photographs – standing shirtless in their rickety boat, casting their net, its twisting shape silhouetted against the orange sky.
For Simon-Peter and all, fish in the nets meant food on the table, meant shoes for the kids, meant another day of life.
Workers.
Searchers.
Providers.
They were people who depended on luck and the grace of God and they knew it every time they shoved off into the deep.
Experience teaches even experts there's always more to learn.

So, they were pros.
They had wisdom that comes from experience, and experience that comes from doing the same thing, over and over, day after day.
Experts.

But in another sense, they were anything but.
They depended on the weather.
Depended on seasons.
Depended on the fish.
Depended on the fish to be where they were supposed to be and tiny-brain fish are not dependable.
Fishing is educated guesswork.
Even if you're a pro with sonar rigs, you're still on this side of the water.
Nobody can MAKE a fish take your bait.
Good luck and the grace of God have to blow your direction for you to be successful.
The best you can do is be prepared, be ready, be watchful, and be patient.

Think of the things you do every day.
How much of your success – how much of your failure – depends on your expertise?

How much of your daily success – depends on dumb luck and the grace of God?
When days go well, is God smiling on you?
When things turn dark, has God looked away?
Or is it all just luck?

Simon Peter almost missed the greatest day of his life.
He almost missed the miracle Jesus brought into his boat.
Almost missed it, because he was an expert.

--

Think of how much of this story happens by accident.
Jesus is teaching by the shore of Lake Gennesaret.
Nobody knows exactly what Gennesaret means.
It could be close to "kingly gardens."
We know the land was beautiful, and fertile.
Jesus liked the water.
He liked gardens.
He's so often in them or beside them -- teaching, praying, hooking disciples.
Today he's exploring the lake and gardens of Gennesaret, not as a king, but as a teacher.

The crowd Jesus is teaching starts pressing in on him.
Crowds can be scary. Out of control.
Imagine the power of a crowd, like a wild ocean, pressing in – not to pull down goalposts, but to hear the expert Jesus.
Not even Jesus can control a crowd.
Crowds turn into mobs.
Excitement can turn into incitement, on a word.

Jesus looks for a way out.
He didn't have an exit strategy for this.
But he sees some empty boats floating by the shore.
He grabs a spot in one.
Turns out, it's Simon Peter's boat.
Did Jesus know that in advance?
Or was it random choice?


Jesus asks Simon Peter to take him out, just far enough to escape the crowd.
And then the boat becomes his classroom, his pulpit.
Simon the fisherman becomes Simon the chauffeur.
Not something he's an expert at.
I can't imagine anything like this has happened to him before.

Simon had almost made it to quitting time.
Still working, but getting ready for the next night.
Mending his nets so he could go out again when the sun went down.
They fished at night in Gennesaret.
Because it's really hot in the day.
Simon Peter's workday was interrupted at the last minute, after Jesus had been interrupted, after the crowd happened to get too big, the day Jesus happened to be teaching by this lake, the day Jesus jumped into his boat.

Sun comes up, the bell rings.
Class is over.
Church heads to Cracker Barrel.
Or CB's.
Have you seen the crowds there?
Every Sunday, line goes around the building.
You'd almost have to skip church to get a table there.
Shh. Don't tell.
Jesus gives the benediction and then when it's finally quiet again on the waterfront, Jesus tells Simon Peter to put out his nets into the deep water.

And what happens?
The miraculous catch?
Not yet.
And almost not at all.

Jesus tells him to put out his nets in the deep water and for a moment, maybe two, Simon thinks about it.
He thinks about it.
And Simon says, "No." No.
Why does Simon say no?
You know why.
Because Simon Peter's an expert.

"We have worked all night long.
We have been working all night long, doing our jobs, fishing for our living.
Fishing for our lives.
Fishing for the livelihood of our families.
Working.
Providing.
This is what we do.
All night long.
Every night.
We fish.
We know fishing.
And we have caught nothing."

You see, before Simon Peter is obedient, before miracles start to happen, before he becomes a disciple – Simon Peter is an expert.
Simon Peter says, "No."

Would you say No to Jesus?
Have you said No to him?
Why would you tell Jesus no?

It isn't because we're unbelieving.
It's not because we're not faithful, or don't love Jesus sincerely enough.
It's not because we're not good enough, or because of our failures.
More often than not, we say No to Jesus because we're experts.
Experts at our jobs.
Experts at ourselves.
We do this.
We know this.
Whatever this is.
We're experts.
So, Lord Jesus, "No."

--

And what comes next?
It's so easy to know what happens next in church, isn't it?
What happens next?
Whatever the bulletin says.
Same thing that always happens.
We sing a hymn.
We say the Creed.
We pray.
We take up the Offering.
Of course we take up the Offering.
Sunday after Sunday.
Pretty much the same thing.
We're experts.
We've done this before.
We're smarter than Simon Peter.

…he said to Simon, "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch."
Simon answered, "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing.
Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets."

Was Simon Peter suddenly being obedient?
Was he hopeful?
Was he playing along to satisfy Jesus and get him out of his maritime Uber?

When has someone given you a begrudging Yes to something you know they don't really want to do?
We hear that every now and then, in church.

In church, sometimes, we'll be looking for someone to chair a particular committee.
Or to be an elder on session.
And they say,
"Well, keep looking, and if you can't find anyone else to do it, I guess I will."
We say OK, we'd accept those terms.

Now, you know, we stop looking right then and there.
Because in church, even to Jesus, a begrudging yes is still a yes.

So Peter says, "Yet, if you say so… I will let down the nets."
Does it matter?
Jesus doesn't seem to mind if our Yes to him is begrudging or not.
Sincere or not.
Excited and bouncy or not.

Does Jesus care if you really want to be up at sunrise, feeding the homeless?
Does Jesus care if you really want to sell all you have and give it to the poor?
Does Jesus care if you really want to visit the sick, welcome the stranger, bring comfort to prisoners?

Do you think the hungry care?
Do you think the homeless, the sick, the strangers, the prisoners care if you're getting something out of caring for them?
I'm sure they'd prefer you weren't all crabby and rude.
But even if you do the work of Jesus with a grumpy heart, the work of Jesus is going to get done.
Jesus doesn't care if you like it or not.
Doesn't care if you think you're right or not.
Doesn't care if you think you're an expert or not.

Nobody wants to be proved wrong.
None of us want to be shown up by some amateur at something we're expert at.
No professional fisherman wants some failed ex-carpenter telling them where to throw the nets.

But it happens.
And sometimes, by the grace of God, sometimes WITH the grace of God, those buttinsky upstarts teach us –
not how to do our jobs,
but teach us how much of what we think we know,
how much of our expertise,
they remind us how much of every day, depends on luck and the grace of God blowing our direction.

Praise God for the times when we're not experts.
Praise Jesus – for times when we don't know what we're doing.
Because those are the times when we might notice what God is doing, whether we appreciate it or not.

That's the beauty of being in a church.
A church doesn't care if you're an expert at anything.
We're all amateurs here.
We're ALL amateurs before Jesus.
You know what it really means to be an amateur?
An amateur is literally just someone who loves what they're doing.
An amateur is someone who loves the people who benefit.
We're all amateurs at this Christian stuff.
Good thing Jesus just jumps in our boats.
And says, Go.

--

Rev. Dr. James McTyre

Transitional Pastor, Evergreen Presbyterian Church (USA), Dothan, AL

865-216-1980

james@evergreenpres.church

www.evergreenpres.church

Another Baptism for You

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
As the people were filled with expectation and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, "I baptize you with water, but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the strap of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."

Now when all the people were baptized and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

—

Now, I don't want to draw too precise a comparison here.
However. Current events are on my mind.
We all see things through the filter of our own experience.
We all do.
To me, when I read Luke chapter 3, to me, John the Baptist is like the Interim Pastor.
I mean, think about it.
He pops up out of "the wilderness."
(Maybe the Great Smoky Mountains. Where people dress weird – in orange, in public.)
And he spends all his time telling people to GET READY.
Get ready for the REAL pastor.
Because the REAL pastor's fixin' to be here.
He just can't say when, exactly.
And he won't even tell people the new pastor's name.
For a Baptist, John sounds mighty Presbyterian to me.

That's really as far as I want to take that little thought experiment.
Because Matthew says John: "wore a garment of camel's hair… and his food was locusts and wild honey."
Camels' hair just sounds stinky.
And eating locusts and wild honey – well, I guess if you're eating insects it helps to cover them in honey, or chocolate.

At raisingthecandybar.com you can order chocolate-covered locusts – KOSHER chocolate-covered locusts, to make the John the Baptist experience even more authentic.

Crafted with precision using premium Swiss chocolate, each locust is meticulously detailed to capture the essence of these fascinating insects. Despite their unconventional inspiration, these chocolate delicacies offer a rich and indulgent flavor experience that is sure to surprise and delight. Whether you're looking to add a touch of whimsy to your dessert table or seeking a conversation starter for your next gathering, our Chocolate Locusts are sure to make a memorable impression. Each box has 4 locusts. $19.95. Please allow 3-5 days for shipping.

Again, that's raisingthecandybar.com.

But for all intents and purposes, John WAS the guy before the REAL guy.
He emerged from the wilderness, stinky as a camel with locust breath.
And John's only job, his one job, was telling people to get right with God and do it fast.

It reminds me of the conversations going on around the church lately.
The activity picking up.
A new Choir Director.
A new Administrator.
The icemaker – cleaned with toothbrushes.
The Resource Closet has open floorspace.
The Parlor – renovated and shiny new.
People are saying things like, "We need to get this – or that – in order before the new pastor gets here."

And that's exactly the way it should be.
John the Baptist appeared.
He told people what to do.
And then he left.
Just like a good Interim Pastor.
Leaving is part of the job.
John may have left, but he didn't get too far out of town.
King Herod had his head chopped off, just as he was heading north.
Headland.
That's how it got its name.
Pause for laughter.
Again. Let's not get carried away.

—

John was all about repentance.
About getting people baptized.
About the forgiveness of sins.
We call him John the BAPTIST, but Presbyterians are all about these things, too.
John, to be correct, wasn't Baptist, wasn't Southern Baptist, wasn't New Independent Fundamentalist Baptist, wasn't even a Cooperative Baptist.
I really like that name, though.
We could use more cooperative Presbyterians.
John wasn't ANY Christian denomination.
John was Jewish.

People think Christians invented baptism.
Actually, no.
Baptism was a Jewish cleansing ceremony, for people to mark atonement for sins and for people converting to the Jewish faith.
Some Jewish groups practiced daily baptism, and there's speculation John was part of this group.

Baptism wasn't about getting saved, as much as about getting reset.
Repentance literally means to "turn around."

You know when your computer stops working?
And you call technical support in a galaxy far, far away?
And the helpful genius suggests all sorts of ways to fix the satanic machine?
And then, finally, you get so mad you just yank the plug out of the wall so the whole thing goes blank?
And then, after you cool down, and because your kid really wants to play Minecraft again, you plug it back in, and Voila! Eureka! It works!

Baptism in the classic Jewish sense was a way to say publicly, and to show publicly, that your life was getting a hard reboot.
An unplug, re-plug fix.
You were still the same person;
you'd just been reformatted.
Installed a new OS.

OK, that's enough computer stuff.
I hope you get what I mean.
Presbyterians mostly would agree:
you don't have to be baptized to go to heaven.
You don't have to be dunked in holy water.
In the case of some infants, you don't even have to be awake to be baptized.
In our Presbyterian tradition, and in John's tradition, baptism is personal, but not private.
Baptism involves the person being baptized, the congregation who takes vows to support and care for the person, and God.
Presbyterians believe any baptism done in the name of the Triune God is done correctly.
And once you're baptized – no matter the age – you're baptized.
For life.
Again, I think this is affirmation that you're still the same person.
You just have a new orientation.
You've turned your life around, or promised to keep turning your child's life around if and when they need it.
Even Jesus was baptized.
Not because he had lots of sins to confess.
But because he was showing – to himself, to God, and to his community – he was showing that his life was going to be something new.
Something different.
Something God could be pleased about.

—

Evergreen Presbyterian Church (USA) is in a season of baptism.
Over the next 2 months, between now and when the new pastor emerges from the wilderness, you're going to be in a time of repentance.
You're already in a time of cleaning up and cleaning out.
Of clearing your threshing floor and gathering the wheat.
A time to burn the chaff away.
We don't burn trash, like John must have – we dispose of it responsibly.
Not just physical trash and grime.
But also spiritual leftovers.
Habits that have been left out too long.
Loaves and fishes that, once upon a time were nourishing, but are now moldy and stinky.

I'm really excited for you.
I know this is going to be a good season of rebirth and renewal.
You're ready for it.
So when I disappear back into the wilderness –
as I shall – hopefully with my head still attached –
you will know, without a doubt, that you are ready to rise up from the waters, refreshed and renewed.
You're ready to be re-directed in the rebirth of a spiritual repentance so that you can be rebooted, can be re-plugged into God's power source once again.
Moving ahead together, lights shining, and all systems go.
Interim no more.
Time to for a new pastor and time for YOU to be fully installed.

What's not to love about Evergreen?
You are God's beloved people.
With you God is – and always will be – well-pleased.
And I know the new pastor will be pleased, too.

A Long Story Short

SERMON                                                                                                                        Rev. Dr.  James McTyre

2025-01-05 Matthew 02 01-12
My favorite stuffy BBC history host is Philomena Cunk.
She's not actually a real person.
She's a character played by a comedian who does straight-faced interviews with real professors and scientists, asking them idiotic questions as calmly as only a British person could.
You can find her on YouTube.  Also has a new special on Netflix.
Lightens the mood of 2025.

In an episode pulled from the headlines of today's scripture, Philomena goes to Buckingham Palace to interview the Chaplain to the Queen (now, the King), the Rev. Canon Ann Easter.
And yes, Ann Easter is the Reverend's real name, and yes she is indeed a Canon.
Canon is another title for a Priest in the Church of England.
If only the Presbyterian Church had Canons.
At least stun guns. To keep meetings decent and orderly.

Long story short -- and I must add, never believe anyone who says, "Long story short."
Especially a preacher.
By the time someone says, "Long Story Short," it's always way too late.
So, I'll use the kids' social media abbreviation, LSS.
LSS, then, Philomena looks directly at the Very Reverend Canon Ann in her robe and vestments and asks,
"So, how many three wise men were there?"
To her credit, Canon Ann answers with a very calm, "Who knows?"
She points out that only one Gospel -- Matthew -- even mentions wise men and that the number three is simply a very good number.
Philomena follows up asking, "So there could have been fifteen three wise men?"
To which Canon Ann replies in British form, "Quite possibly, yes."

Matthew doesn't specify a number of wise men, but he does say there were three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
So since we men can't handle more than one Christmas gift, three makes sense.
Some churches say there were twelve wise men, one for each of the twelve days of Christmas,
just like in that other carol where the True Love is obviously making up for mistakes.
This morning, we had the Evergreen Men's Ensemble.
We had six men singing We Three Kings.
So, in our church we have at least two Three Wise Men, perhaps more.

Church math is an inexact science.
Ask any minister, "How many members does your church have?"
You mean "on the rolls," "in the pews," or "contributing to the budget"?
Church math's a bit like voter rolls in Georgia.
It all depends on which Apostle you're asking and how many fingers he counts with.

Now. Where was I? Oh yes.
Three Wise Men. L-S-L -- Long Story Longer...
If you Google "Three Wise Men in the Bible," you'll see that some people DO call them Wise Men.
Others say they were Three KINGS, as in the song.
They're also called Magi.
Sometimes, astrologers.
In Tennessee we know they were firemen.
Because, the Bible says, they came from "afar."
(That's Presbyterian Humor.)

Wise men deserve to be identified as such as quickly as possible.
We need names.

OK. L-S-G-L -- Long Story Getting Longer -- but there's good reason.
30 years ago, for Christmas, the Presbyterian Women of Evergreen Presbyterian Church gave to Me, and Kristen, a super-nice Fontanini Nativity Scene.
Made in Bagni di Lucca, Italy.
Made from hand painted polymer.
So not only is it  expertly crafted, it's also child-proof.
I don't THINK the ladies were encouraging us to have children, but the foresight eventually paid off.
We put the Nativity set out every Christmas and remember y'all.

Something you might not have known is that if you turn the kings over, their names are printed on their bottoms.
The bottom of the stands, I mean.
There's Melchior, Balthasar, and Gaspar.
How did those crafty Italians know the names and how did they know which one was which?

Well, L-S-G-Even-Ls.
Turns out, none of these names are in the Bible and none were the names of any kings within camel-riding and star-following distance.
Like all smart Americans, I did my own extensive Internet research.

The names of the Three Wise Men, or Magi, are believed to come from an Armenian infancy gospel written around 500 AD.
Melchior: From the Armenian name Melkon.
Balthasar: from the Armenian name Baldassar.
And Gaspar, from the Armenian name... Gaspar.
They didn't even try to make him sound like a foreigner.
The name Gaspar derives from the biblical Hebrew word, "gizzard," which is probably why there are so few Gaspars today.
After a few centuries of Nativity sets, songs, and church plays with children in bathrobes, the names stuck.
All of this takes me the long way back to Canon Ann Easter's answer.
"Who knows?"
Who knows?

If you start pulling the threads of scripture, you can take just about any short story and make it much longer.
With imagination, and a song, and even some ridiculous questions, the Bible becomes a fertile hunting ground for pretty much any wild idea you're shooting for.
It happens a lot.

We can get so caught up arguing about how many three wise men there were,
or whether this one's Melchior, Balthassar, or Gizzard,
or what their occupations were, or which brought what gift, that we forget all about the Baby Jesus.

And that, in my opinion, is what happens to Christmas way more often than not.
We get in arguments over how the decorations are to be hung, fights about menus and oven temperatures, brand-names and charging cables --
We get so distracted by short stories grown way too long that we miss the whole point of Jesus.
Jesus is the ultimate long story short, intended to be brief, to the point, and with a heartfelt "Amen."
It's a BABY for goodness' sake.

The Baby Jesus is God's sign that love made alive will be the salvation of us all.
And thank God for this simple, priceless gift.
Thank God at Christmas.
Thank God in the new year.
And thank God every day for this unending, uncontrolling, undefined, and simply understandable love.

--

Not long after leaving Alabama for Tennessee, one Christmas we had some friends over.
They had a little boy about five years old.
He comes into the living room and sees our Fontanini Nativity set I mentioned.
His face just lights up. He says, "Oh wow! We have that game, too!"

His mother explained that not only did he play games, like, Hide the Baby Jesus, but also that other toys made special guest manger appearances.
Toys definitely not in the Bible.
Dinosaurs. Race cars.
Mary, did you know who was going to show up the night you gave birth?
You had no idea.

A lot of us minister-types, who want everything to be just as it says in the Bible -- a lot of us take exception to certain Christmas songs.
The one that really gets our goat is, "The Little Drummer Boy."
The Little Drummer Boy is definitely an add-on.
No, he's not in the Bible.
But it's a sweet song.
It speaks to little kids.
It gives them a place at the manger.
Still, you have to wonder, is a kid banging on a drum the best gift for a newborn?
Maybe he could have been a Little Harpist Boy?

It's kind of like the Armenian kings' names: you work with what's at hand.
A little boy, or a little girl, might not be able to play softly and tenderly, but they can get a spoon and bang on a pot.
Or do a dance.
Or bring a dinosaur.

Matthew, in his telling of the gospel story, had the wise men bring gifts.
Matthew wasn't going for accuracy.
Or even practicality.
If you're visiting a mother with a newborn, you bring sensible things.
Blankies. Huggies.
Matthew has his impractical wise men bring gifts.
But the gifts are really to help us.
Matthew has them bring things to help tell the story of Jesus, to help tell the story of his whole life.

Gold.
Jesus is going to be -- Jesus IS the king.
That's what made King Herod so paranoid that he sent the wise men as spies.
Gold stands for kingship, earthly kingship.
You brought the king your very best, your most valuable offerings.

Frankincense.
Frankincense it's a very strong incense.
Used lavishly in religious rites.
Used by the priests who performed the rituals that brought the people closer to God (and vice versa).
It symbolizes Jesus' as Priest, as the one who would bring the people closer to God (and vice versa).

Myrrh.
Myrrh was another kind of incense, even stronger than frankincense.
Myrrh was worth more than its weight in gold.
Myrrh was for life's end.
Myrrh was used in embalming, and was burned at funerals.
Myrrh is Matthew giving us a foreshadowing of Jesus's earthly death, and how significant it's going to be.

The gifts don't belong in a newborn's nursery.
Any more than a little drummer boy.
That's because the gifts the wise men brought weren't supposed to be practical.
Matthew picks them and hands them to the wise men because he wants wise hearers of his Gospel to hear the story of Jesus's WHOLE life, not just his birth.
The wise men and their gifts are hints.
They're clues.
They're peeks under the blanket to see the baby as more than just one more of the countless babies born that night.

The kings and their gifts ARE out-of-place in this story.
As out-of-place as a drummer boy, or even a dinosaur.
Who are the wise men?
What are their names?
How many were there?
Who knows?
They aren't the point.
The point is the Baby Jesus.
The point is the Baby Jesus.
It's really that simple.
A long story, made short.
Love, made an infant.

---

The church celebrates the holy day of Epiphany.
Epiphany comes after the 12 days of Christmas.
Technically, today IS the 12th day of Christmas.
The wise men don't arrive until the THIRTEENTH day, tomorrow.
Tomorrow is officially Epiphany day.
Technically, we're a day early.
We beat the three kings.
Which makes us even wiser than the wise.

But are we right?
Are we absolutely, positively sure we're getting the numbers right?
And the dates right?
And the names right?
Did we mess up and leave out a couple of three wise men?
Who knows?

A big part of being serious about Jesus is being un-serious about ourselves.
To be serious about God, you have to laugh at little at yourself.
When you think about all the infinite number of ways you can be wrong, the odds that you're getting ANYTHING seriously right have to be pretty slim.
When you think about the Creator of the Universe taking the form of a newborn baby, in a stable, surrounded by the wise, the kingly, the lowly, the shepherd-y.
And, oh yes, an angel choir.
The whole scene defies reason.
Love does that.
Love defies all sense of reason.
Because reason isn't the point.
Love is. The point.

Who knows how many wise men or wise women showed up to see the Baby Jesus?
The bigger question is: how many loving men, how many loving women, how many loving drummer boys and drummer girls --
how many LOVING people show up to show off the love that sent Jesus to earth in the first place?
How many show up today? Tomorrow?

You can get the story right.
But you can also get the story loving.
You can tell the story in your life by being loving.
You can relive your Epiphany of Jesus's love today, and tomorrow, and any day.
Just show up to share the birth of love.
And the birth of a baby.
And the birth of whatever epiphany that brings to you.