Return to Sermon Index	No Room in the Inn

Everyone has a favorite Christmas story that they like to tell. Usually, it is about some unusual experience that they had at Christmas time. For my wife, her favorite story to tell about Christmas time is the Christmas Eve that I left her standing in the swamp at 11 p.m. out on Hooper's Island in the Chesapeake Bay on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Now, I won't go into that story, tonight. But, no doubt, some of you will corner Linda about that one if you want to.

Instead, I'm going to tell my favorite story about a Christmas Eve that took place twenty three years ago. How many of you can remember back that far, to the Christmas of 1968?

I was 18 years old at the time. Having just finished my first semester at Flint Junior College, I was living with my parents while my brother was in his first year at Central High.

Now, you have to understand that my family was not the ordinary, run of the mill kind of family. In fact, my mom and dad were always doing something a bit unusual. For instance, my mother was one of the first women in Genesee County to get her pilot's license. And my Dad was one of those who helped develop the television and later the transistor when he worked for Raytheon Corporation in Massachusetts, as an electrical engineer. My mom also got her Ham radio license when I was about four years old. In fact, I can still remember her communicating with other radio operators using Morse code. When I was about twelve years old my Dad invented a high frequency microwave transmitter to be used by dermatologists for the permanent removal of unwanted facial hair, a machine that is still being used today. So, as you can see, our household was a strange one chocked full of creativity and odd off-the-wall activities.

I can still remember how my brother and I, to stave off boredom, hooked up one of our Dad's 12,000 volt transformers to a milk bottle full of water and collected the hydrogen in a large plastic bag. This worked really well until my brother lit the gas, causing one heck of a nice explo sion, breaking the milk bottle, and singeing his eyebrows, but otherwise not causing any physical damage.

So, you can understand that my family was not one which was afraid to try something new. And that goes for some of the Christmas vacations we took. 1968: That year was the year my mom and dad decid ed that they wanted to drive down to Mexico to visit a man by the name of Bob Yeager who they had gotten to know as they talked on their ama teur radio. Over the years they had made a schedule of talking with this man who had moved to Guadalajara after retiring as a millionaire from the speculative real estate business in Chicago. So, when Bob invited my mom and dad to bring the family down to Guadalajara to stay with him in his nice penthouse, they took him up on it. And they decided to drive the distance. They planned on driving the big ham radio-equipped Olds mobile Delta 88, pulling the 20 foot trailer. And my brother and I would follow them driving the old, red Volkswagen Squareback, car that looked kind of like a Ford Escort Wagon.

I still remember that strange trip down to Mexico, of how my broth er and I got separated from our parents outside of Nashville and how we had to stop to call home where my brother-in-law was talking to them on the Ham Radio as they drove down the highway. I can still remember the strange feeling of talking to my Dad in Tennessee on radio through a telephone call from Tennessee where I was to my home in Flint. Oh, the marvels of modern technology!

So, I remember the trip down to Mexico. But, I especially remember our arrival in the beautiful city of Guadalajara on Christmas Eve. Our plan was to drive over to the building where Bob lived, a fifteen story office building with a large "Nes Cafe" sign on the top. We would then park our cars and take the elevator up to Bob's penthouse, go out for dinner, and have a nice leisurely evening together. Well, the plan didn't quite work out this way.

It was about 5 p.m. and the streets of Guadalajara were busy with a lot of last minute shopping. Christmas lights were strung across the streets in almost every direction. And, just as we were getting into the busiest part of downtown Guadalajara, a city about the size of Detroit, my father, who was driving the Oldsmobile with that 20 foot trailer on the back, decided that this was his moment to pretend he was a New York taxi driver.

The last I saw of that car was when it turned a corner and left me sitting at a red light. When I finally had the chance to make the turn he was no where in sight. And, without my father, who knew the way to Bob's house, it would prove to be very difficult for my brother and me to find our way. And, what's worse was that nighttime was coming on very quickly.

I can remember how my brother and I decided to stop at a gas station to ask for directions. Neither one of us knew much Spanish, so we simply asked for the telephone directory. Unfortunately Bob had an unlisted number. Then, we asked where the building was that had a "Nes Cafe" sign on it. By this time we were getting a small crowd of persons around us who wanted to help. But, everyone thought that all we wanted to have was a cup of coffee and started to tell us where their favorite cafe was. So, we thanked them politely and got back into our car.

I can remember the fearful, almost panicky thoughts that were going through my mind: "What would we do if we couldn't find our par ents? We didn't have much money with us. And, where would we sleep that night? Could we find a place in a motel on Christmas Eve? Why had God let us get into such a predicament -- two teenage boys lost in a foreign country -- so far away from home? Was it so I could write a few sermons about it 20 years later?" But, I though: "What would become of us? Who would help us?"

And, because it was Christmas Eve, I started to think of two other persons who were also homeless travelers in a strange city 2,000 years earlier. Somehow, the predicament my brother and I were in and the one that Mary and Joseph were in seemed to be related. I almost began to identify with them in my own unusual way.

Well, as it was getting dark we thought it would be easier just to drive through the downtown of the city and look up for the big Nes Cafe sign. But it was harder than we thought. Someone turned on all of the strings of Christmas lights and decorations, criss-crossing the streets, making it very difficult to see anything above those lights. So, no mat ter where we drove in Guadalajara, we were unable to find the building with the sign. The Christmas lights were getting in the way.

After driving around for about an hour, we decided to stop and go up to the top of a building. We thought that if we could get above those lights and see out over the city, we'd be able to spot Bob's building and then find our way.

So, we found a likely looking building, parked our car, and went inside. We took the elevator as far up as we could, then took the stairs to the roof. I can remember the puzzled look of a woman who lived in the penthouse as she asked us in Spanish what we were doing. We ex plained in English and she laughed and pointed about ten blocks across the business district to the very building we were looking for and even said that she knew Bob. We gratefully thanked her and then took one more look just to make sure we would know which direction to go when we got down to the street, again.

I can still remember taking those stairs back down to the elevator and then getting back down to the street. We must have gone around and around several times in doing that, so that when we went out the door on the street we were all turned around. Nevertheless, I was pretty sure that I knew where to go, and my brother was pretty sure that he had it figured out, as well. He insisted on walking there, and, of course, I would get there in the car. It took me another hour before I finally found that building. And when I got to the place, neither my brother, nor my parents, were there. But, the maid told me that my parents had gone to the market down on the street. So, I went to the market and located my parents, who seemed to be somewhat relieved to see me. And, then, just as we went out of the market, who should come running up the street, out of breath, but my brother! He had gotten confused, as well, but had gotten straightened out once again by going to the top of a parking ramp and getting another look.

So, there we were, after several hours, back together again!

One of the interesting things about this story is that it reminds us of how easy it could be for any one of us to suddenly find ourselves homeless, without a place to sleep, or food to eat.

We think we are so secure with our jobs, our pensions, our social security, our homes, and our grocery stores full of food, and K-Marts full of supplies. But, you never know. Any or all of those things could be suddenly taken away from us without our being able to do anything about it. Without warning, due to circumstances beyond our control, disease, mental illness, tragedy, financial disaster, could take everything we have away from us.

It's already happened to thousands upon thousands of people living in our country today; and millions more around the world. They sleep tonight in shelters, over metal sidewalk grates, under bridges, in con demned buildings, large cardboard boxes, and sewer pipes. And much of society looks down on them. Many folks in the middle class don't even want to help them, forgetting, or perhaps not wanting to be reminded of the fact that homelessness is closer to all of us than we would like to think.

Mary and Joseph had to lay their baby in a manger. Joseph didn't have enough money to get a place in the Holiday Inn. I know, the story says that there was no room. But, you know how it is: If someone flashes a $100.00 bill at a desk clerk in a full hotel its amazing how many empty rooms can be found! But Jo didn't have the $100.00. And, turning away from the desk clerk, he was all too painfully aware that all he real ly did have in the world was Mary, about to give birth, sitting on a dusty, tired out, old donkey, standing out in the parking lot.

But, Joseph didn't give up hope. Looking up into the night sky he could see a star that had never been there before. And he had had a dream. And, somehow, he knew that this was a special time when God would take care of him and the ones he loved.

So, how are we, tonight, my friends? As we look up at the sky, can we still see that star shining through all of the Christmas lights that we've strung between every lightpole of our life? And in spite of the present-day temptation to be callous as we consider the plight of the homeless and the needy, can we still make the connection between them and the birth of Jesus? As we sit around our trees, throwing Christmas wrapping paper, can we remember what the first Christmas was really like? As we fear for our jobs, as we worry about a recession, can we still remember that Jesus came for and even was born in the midst of those who are poor?

Let us, then, not take comfort nor find our security in our worldly possessions, but, rather, in the One who was sent to earth for the salva tion of us all. Amen.