Merry Christmas! We talk about the upside down world we live in and how Jesus sets it right.

Manuscript:

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, the Holy Three in One, who has come to be born as a child in order to set our world back upright. Amen.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

We’re almost there. We’re really just counting down now until midnight tonight. And at midnight tonight, something very important happens.

At midnight, a story is renewed and continued. At midnight, there is a moment many people are excited about. That moment, of course, is the release of Part Two of the final season of Stranger Things on Netflix. If you’ve been watching, you know what I mean. If you haven’t, don’t worry—we’ll catch you up just enough for the sermon.

But while we’re counting down to that story continuing, we’re also counting down to another story being renewed and continued—the story of our salvation. A story that begins with Jesus Christ being born in the town of Bethlehem. A story about a child born into a world that is deeply upside down because of our sin.

To understand that, I need to tell you a little bit about another town that is upside down: the town of Hawkins.

Hawkins is the fictional town where Stranger Things takes place. And the event that sets the whole story in motion is the disappearance of a young boy named Will Byers. Will doesn’t just go missing—he slips into an alternate reality known as “the Upside Down.”

The Upside Down looks a lot like Hawkins, but everything is wrong. It’s dark. The skies are filled with lightning. The buildings are all there—the school, the library, people’s houses—but they’re decaying, covered in thick roots and grime. It’s familiar, but corrupted.

And to make matters worse, the Upside Down isn’t empty. It’s filled with monsters. It’s ruled by an evil being named Vecna, who has plans not only for those who enter the Upside Down, but for the people of Hawkins itself.

There’s something about that story that resonates with us.

We live in God’s world. Things are generally where they’re supposed to be. Florida is where Florida should be. The oceans are where the oceans should be. The clouds are where the clouds should be. And yet, we know something is wrong. Something is broken.

Sin has infected this world. And behind that sin stands an enemy—not Vecna, but Satan. The deceiver. The one who has evil planned for God’s creation and for us.

Sometimes we feel a bit like Will Byers. We know there should be something better than this. And yet here we are. The skies feel dark. The monsters feel close.

When we turn to the readings appointed for tonight, we see just how upside down things really are.

In Isaiah, we meet King Ahaz. He’s the king of God’s people, and he’s under threat. God offers him a sign—something to trust, something to cling to. And Ahaz refuses. “I will not test the Lord,” he says. It sounds faithful, but it’s actually faithless. Something is deeply upside down.

So God responds by giving a sign anyway: a child will be born into this upside down world, and his name will be Emmanuel—God with us.

Then the psalm speaks of a king who will battle evil, whose enemies will be made his footstool. If there is a battle, then there must be an enemy.

And then we hear from 1 John, where it’s love, love, love all the way through. And we might think, At least we get love right.

But we don’t.

John has to write those words precisely because we get love twisted and distorted. We separate love from God. We treat love as something above God, or apart from Him, instead of something that flows directly from who God is. In this upside down world, even love gets turned around.

So what does God do?

He sends His Son into our upside down existence. And He does it in ways that seem upside down to us.

God doesn’t come in a palace. He doesn’t come in a temple. He doesn’t even come in a respectable home. He’s born in a small side room and laid in a feeding trough.

The announcement doesn’t go to politicians or priests, but to shepherds—ordinary, overlooked people out in the fields, doing the night shift.

It all seems strange to us because we live in an upside down world. A world that tells us power matters most. A world built on hierarchy, status, and exclusion. A world that teaches us who is worth associating with and who isn’t.

But God’s Word made flesh comes into our world and shows us what is truly right side up.

And unlike Stranger Things, where the Upside Down is filled with monsters called Demogorgons, God doesn’t come into our world to wipe out the monsters.

Because in a sinful world, we’re the monsters.

We sin. We harm. We live turned in on ourselves.

But God does not come to eradicate us. He comes to transform us.

He comes to make us new. He comes to make us fit for His right side up world.

And He does it through a baby born in Bethlehem, to parents who don’t look impressive, announced by messengers no one would expect. This child grows up, dies on a cross, pays for our sins, rises from the grave, and promises to come again to set everything right.

Until that day, He continues to set things right now—through forgiveness, through His Word, through His body and blood given for us.

So as you go back out into this upside down world—yes, even after a warm Christmas Eve service—know this:

You belong to a right side up world,
given by a right side up Savior,
born into our upside down existence.

Amen.