If you are reading this, the world around you has likely finally quieted down. The rush to buy gifts is over. The emails have (hopefully) st...
Whether you are in a crowded city in Asia, a quiet suburb in the West, or somewhere in between, we all share a common feeling tonight: a mixture of exhaustion and expectation. We are tired of the noise, yet we are hoping for a sound that actually matters.
The texts for the Midnight Mass—the ancient poetry of Isaiah, the instruction of Titus, and the narrative of Luke—weave together a story that is quite different from the "Christmas" we see in commercials. They tell us that God does not arrive with a parade. He arrives with a Light, in Lowliness, to bring Peace.
Let’s unpack these three gifts tonight.
1. The Light in the Darkness (Isaiah)
We begin with the prophet Isaiah. He speaks to a people who know what it feels like to be lost. "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light."
In our modern world, we don't really know "darkness" anymore. We have LED streetlights, 24/7 convenience stores, and the glowing screens of our smartphones that we doom-scroll in bed. But Isaiah isn't talking about the absence of photons. He is talking about the darkness of uncertainty. The darkness of anxiety. The feeling of "What is happening to the world?" and "Am I going to be okay?"
I remember a story of a man who got lost while hiking in a dense forest as the sun went down. He had a high-tech GPS, but the battery died. He had a phone, but no signal. Panic set in. He sat in the pitch black, terrified.
Suddenly, miles away, he saw a tiny flicker. It wasn't a searchlight; it was just a lantern hanging on a ranger’s porch. That tiny speck of light didn't illuminate the roots at his feet, but it gave him something far more important: Orientation. He knew where to walk.
The Christmas message of Isaiah is that Christ is that point of orientation. He is the Light. He doesn't necessarily promise to turn on a floodlight that solves every political crisis or personal financial struggle instantly. But He offers a light that says, "Head this way. You are not alone." In a world that feels like it’s spinning out of control, the Light of Christ is the North Star that tells us we are not abandoned in the dark.
2. The Scandal of Lowliness (Luke)
This leads us to the Gospel of Luke. If God is the "Light," surely He should arrive in a palace, right? If a Prime Minister or a CEO visits a city, we roll out the red carpet. We clear the traffic. We reserve the presidential suite.
But Luke tells us something shocking. When the Creator of the Universe stepped into human history, there was "no room for them in the inn."
Think about that. The God who made the galaxies was homeless. He was born in a manger—a feeding trough for animals.
In our Asian context, and indeed in the West, we are often obsessed with "upgrades." We want the VIP table, the business class seat, the latest phone, the verified checkmark. We are terrified of being overlooked or considered unimportant.
Yet, God chose the "economy class" of existence. He chose the smell of hay over the scent of perfume. He chose shepherds—who were considered the lowest class of people at the time, rough and uneducated—to be the first guests at His party.
Why? To tell you that you don't need to be "somebody" to be loved by Him.
There is a Japanese art form called Kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired with gold lacquer. The artist doesn't hide the cracks; they highlight them. The broken bowl becomes more valuable than the new one.
The Manger is God’s way of doing Kintsugi with humanity. He comes into the poverty, the mess, and the brokenness of a stable to show us that He isn't afraid of our mess. If you feel "broken" tonight—if you feel you aren't successful enough, holy enough, or good enough—look at the manger. That is exactly where God prefers to be.
3. The Disruptive Peace (Titus & Luke)
Finally, we have the result of this Light and this Lowliness: Peace.
The angels sang it: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests." And Saint Paul, in his letter to Titus, tells us that this grace trains us to live lives that are self-controlled and upright.
Peace is the most elusive commodity in the world today. We have "peacekeepers," but we still have wars. We have "meditation apps," but we still have anxiety. Why? Because we think peace is just the absence of noise.
But the Peace of Christmas is not a passive silence. It is an active disruption of hatred.
There is a famous story from World War I, known as the Christmas Truce of 1914. Along the Western Front, British and German soldiers—who had been killing each other for months—slowly climbed out of their trenches on Christmas Eve. They didn't have a treaty signed by generals. They just had a shared recognition of this Holy Night. They exchanged cigarettes, showed photos of their families, and played soccer in No Man’s Land.
For a few hours, the presence of Christ stopped the war. That is the peace Isaiah promised: "The boot of the tramping warrior... shall be burned."
For us, the trenches aren't usually on a battlefield. They are in our dining rooms. They are in our comment sections on Facebook. They are the grudges we hold against a sibling or a former friend.
Titus reminds us that because "Grace has appeared," we must change. We cannot kneel at the manger and then stand up to gossip about our neighbor. We cannot accept the Light and then throw shade at others. The Peace of Christmas demands that we unclench our fists. It invites us to be the first one to say, "I’m sorry," or "I forgive you."
Friends, as you log off tonight or step away from this screen, remember the connection of these readings.
God saw our Darkness, so He sent a Light (Isaiah). He didn't send it from a distance; He brought it down into the Lowliness of a manger (Luke). And He did this so that we might finally have Peace (Titus).
Tonight, let us not just celebrate a holiday. Let us allow this reality to touch us.
May you find the Light when you are confused.
May you find dignity in your own Lowliness and simplicity.
And may you become an instrument of His Peace in a noisy world.
Merry Christmas.
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