Behold

Good evening, everyone. And Merry Christmas to you. Will you bow your heads in prayer.

Father we are so thankful to be gathered together here on this holy night. We pray that You help us remember the birth of Jesus, that we may share in the song of the angels, the gladness of the shepherds, and worship of the wise men. Let kindness come with every gift and good desires with every greeting. Deliver us by the blessing that Christ brings, and teach us to be merry. For we ask this in Your Son’s name, Amen.

Lighting of the Christ Candle

There’s a final candle on our Advent wreath that we’re going to light tonight, and that is the Christ candle.

As we light the Christ candle to celebrate the end of Advent and the arrival of Jesus, let us remember how our savior came as a lowly baby, that through him the world might be saved, and how he will one day return in glory.

“I am the light of the world,” Jesus said. “Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

Sermon

It’s probably the most familiar story in the Bible for both Christians and non-Christians. We read about the birth of Christ every year, we know it forward and backward. And if you’re like me, every time you read it silently, it’s always in the voice of Linus from Charlie Brown.

There’s a deep sense of familiarity to these verses, which is wonderful. But familiarity can take away the true power of a story. I’d like to do something about that tonight, because this is a story we all need to look at with fresh eyes.

This is a story about expectations, and how the clearest way to encounter God is to let go of our expectations of what we think God should be or do. Because if we’re focused on our opinions of God rather than on God Himself, it’s easy to miss him.

Most of all, it’s a story of how God came down into the mud and mire of this world for the sake of every person who will ever live, regardless of who they might be.

Turn with me to the Gospel of Luke, chapter 2. We’ll be reading verses 8-18:

And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear.

And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest,

and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.”

And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them.

And this is God’s holy word.

At this time in history, Judea was occupied by Rome. It paid taxes to the Roman emperor. Judea’s king was even a Roman governor named Herod.

Often in those days, a census was taken as the first steps to making a new tax. But a tax doesn’t seem to be the case this time. This seems to be simply a counting of the people in order to make certain how many Jews lived under Roman rule, and what sort of property they had.

Augustus didn’t want this process to be slow but he did want it to be precise, so he came up with a great solution to make sure the census happened in the most effective way possible. Everyone had to go to the place of his birth, where his inheritance laid, to be counted.

And as it happened, the place where Joseph had to go to be registered was the town where it was prophesied the Messiah would be born — Bethlehem.

Joseph was of the house and lineage of David. A great-great-great grandson of the king. He would have to make the trip to Bethlehem, a tiny little town that no one paid attention to but which still took pride in being known as the town of the king, the place where David was born. And Mary went with him.

In the Hebrew, the word Bethlehem means “the house of bread.” That makes it a very fitting birthplace for a child who would grow up to be called the Bread of Life. And there in that small backwater town, Mary gave birth to Christ.

We don’t know the exact date of his birth. It’s not December 25. But we do know it happened in the night because of what’s written at the end of verse 8.

And so far, that night had been largely quiet. Even those around the inn where Mary and Joseph had tried to find lodging had no idea a child had been born. This was the greatest event in history, and yet life went on in Bethlehem as it always had.

But in the lonely fields far from town were shepherds watching over their flocks. Very special flocks, as it happened, because the sheep raised in and around Bethlehem would become sacrifices at the Temple for people’s sins.

Think about that, too: not only was the man who would be called the bread of life born in a town called “the house of bread,” the one who would also be called the lamb of God, who would sacrifice himself for our sins, was also born in a place where shepherds raised sheep to be sacrificed in the temple.

These shepherds spent their lives under the open sky with their flocks to keep them from straying and to protect them from predators.

A shepherd’s life was a lonely and thankless one. The closest thing we have to a shepherd is probably a cowboy. But cowboys have it a lot better than these shepherds did. Almost everybody wants to be a cowboy. Almost no one really wanted to be a shepherd.

Because in many ways these men were a people unto themselves, castoffs from the rest of society. Their job meant spending long periods of time alone in the wilderness. As a result, shepherds couldn’t keep the religious rules that Jewish people had to follow.

They were considered unclean, so they couldn’t worship at the temple. They couldn’t even enter the temple. And if they couldn’t worship at the temple, they were considered unknown by God.

As far as Jewish society went, shepherds were on the same level as women and Gentiles. Their testimony was considered to be so unreliable that they weren’t even allowed to be witnesses in court. They had almost no protection under the law. One rabbi even wrote that there were two kinds of people no Jew was allowed to help: heathen, and shepherds.

These men out there alone, so far from civilization, were the lowest of the low. But something wonderful is about to happen. Here was a night like every other, quiet and dark beneath the stars. And them everything changes.

We’re all familiar with the King James, which starts out verse 9 with the words “And lo” — meaning it all happened suddenly, in the blink of an eye. An angel “appears to them.” The Greek verb of the phrase “appeared to them” implies that the angel didn’t come down from the sky. Instead he appeared right beside them.

And with that angel came the glory of the Lord shining all round them. The language here doesn’t give what happened its due. That verse might make you think of a bright circle of light around the shepherds. That’s not what happened.

This was no small flicker, this was a piercing of the darkness. It was the sudden appearance of a sun hundreds of times brighter than our own. It was a chasing away of the night. It was glory come.

In the Bible, the word translated as glory is often the same as light, and the words “Lord” and “God” are often used to describe greatness or intensity. Trees of God mean great trees, and hills of God mean tall hills. And the glory of the Lord means a light so great and bright that it it cannot be described.

And what was the shepherds’ reaction? The same as ours would be. They were terrified. Filled with great fear, the verse says. Struck to their very core, so afraid they couldn’t move or breathe.

But what the angel says to them in verse 10 is the message of the entire Bible. Nineteen words that speak to every hurt we feel, and every want that haunts us, and every longing we possess.

“Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.”

This fear that gripped the shepherds was more than terror. It was awe. It was the sight of something so holy, so completely other, something so greater than themselves, that all they could do was be afraid.

But fear not, the angel says to the shepherds.

Of all the messages of Christmas, those two words may offer the most comfort. Fear not. The angel speaks by the side of the shepherds, not from above. His gentle encouragement soothes their terror, but it also has a wider meaning for us.

So much of our lives is spent in fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of hardships, fear of loss. But now here is an angel saying to put all of those fears away, because he has brought good news.

The phrase “good news” is translated from the Greek as a word we all know. It’s the word “gospel.” This angel now serves as the first preacher to spread the good news, these good tidings of great joy. And who is this good news for? Look at the end of verse 10:

“ … for all the people.”

What is this news? Something wonderful. Something unbelievable. Something more shocking than even being visited by an angel.

Because this great thing, this good news of great joy, isn’t just for the Jews. Not even just the Gentiles. It’s for the heathen too.

And the children. And the women. And the poor. And the worthless. And the lost. And the unclean. This good news is even for the lowest of the low. It’s even for shepherds.

And what is this good news? What is this great joy for all people born at any time and in any place?

A child has been born.

Notice the line of titles at the end of verse 11. One builds upon the other — this child born is a Savior. He is Christ. He is the Lord.

Savior means far more than the shepherds knew. It says this child will be the deliverer of us from all evil, both sin and sorrow, but also the giver of all good.

The word “Christ” means that this baby is the fulfillment of prophecy, a priest, the end of all ancient revelation, greater than Moses.

And he is also “the Lord”, which speaks of this child’s authority and dominion. He is to be a person of reverence. This child will be our source of freedom only if we submit our wills to his.

But it isn’t just news that this angel wants to share with the shepherds. This is an invitation, and that invitation is in verse 12.

Go see, the angel says. But this verse is more than directions. It’s a warning. A very important one.

Now listen to this. This is something you need to hear. Think of everything the angel has said so far. Fear not. A savior. Christ. The Lord. All the prophecies set down through the centuries are now being fulfilled. The King of kings is born this night, and you should go and look upon his face.

But be warned, the angel says, because what you’re going to find is not what you expect. This baby won’t be dressed in the fine clothes of a king, he’ll be wrapped in rags. He doesn’t lie in a great house surrounded by attendants. Instead, you’ll find him in a dingy cave.

Do you realize that if the angel hadn’t given the shepherds these words, they would have never found Jesus? They would have never thought to look for the Messiah in a barn.

The angel is preparing them here, giving the shepherds comfort in a way that we all can understand, and in a way we all need.

Don’t lose faith, the angel is saying, just because the truth looks different than you think it should. Don’t let circumstances dictate the strength of your belief.

God often works in ways we can’t understand, in ways that seem to go against what we think is supposed to happen. What we believe God should heal He often keeps broken, at least to our eyes. And what we’re sure needs to remain the same is the very thing He starts changing.

What should we do when we find that all of our expectations of God are not being met? When all of those things we pray for Him to give us go unanswered, and all those things we pray for Him to take away He keeps sending in abundance?

We are to take the angel’s advice here to these shepherds. We shouldn’t focus on what we think God should do or shouldn’t. We should just focus on him, and trust that God knows far more than we.

And as a last bit of encouragement here to the shepherds, one final help of faith, something happens that has never occurred in history before or since, and will not until the end of days.

Suddenly, verse 13 says, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host.

The problem with this account, if there is a problem at all, is that human words aren’t nearly enough to portray the truth of what occurred in this lonely field. A picture in the mind is better.

Imagine this single angel standing with the shepherds, one angel that caused such fear and dread and holy terror in the hearts of these common people like you and me.

One angel has the power to destroy this entire world. Did you know that? A single angel can destroy a planet. If that isn’t scary enough, think of one angel suddenly surrounded by a multitude of angels just like him.

That word multitude is symbolic. In the Greek, it means ten thousand times ten thousand. It’s a term used to describe the indescribable.

But we have to try to describe it, and the only picture I can think to give you is an article I read about an astronaut who was aboard the first mission to the far side of the moon, the side that always faces away from us.

If you look at pictures of astronauts out on a space walk, you’ll see there doesn’t seem to be many stars. That’s because the sun blocks them all. There’s too much light.

But on the far side of the moon, the light from the sun is hidden. And because the light is hidden, you can see everything. This astronaut said that when they slipped into the shadow of the far side of the moon, the view given was one so beautiful it was almost terrible, and in a lot of ways it was probably a lot like what these shepherds must have seen.

Without the sun’s light, the astronauts were able to see space as it truly is. And there were so many stars, this astronaut said, so many multitudes, that it looked like a sheet of white.

That is what the shepherds experienced. Only it wasn’t stars they saw, it was angels.

The host of heaven is a common term in the later books of the Old Testament. It speaks of the armies of God. Plural. Not one host. Not one angel. All of them.

In other words, in that moment, heaven was emptied. Every angel gathered on and above that hillside to sing. They stood in their ranks around the shepherds and filled the night with music from every side, and on every lip was praise.

That is how the event of Christ’s birth was regarded in heaven. That is how it should be regarded on earth.

What did the angels sing? Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

The birth of Christ is an event which above all others brings glory to God. The idea of the words “in the highest” is that their praise is heard in the very heaven of heavens, in the highest regions of the universe.

But how could that be? How could a baby bring peace? Even these shepherds had to wonder of that statement.

Historians have speculated that in all the recorded histories of nations and empires from ancient times until now, there has been a total of seven years that there hasn’t been a war on this planet.

Seven years out of thousands upon thousands. And yet this child was to bring peace.

“On earth, peace among those with whom he is pleased” means peace among those who have the approval and the love of God. Those people are the objects of God’s good will and kindness. There will be no more struggle between God and us, because this baby will be our bridge.

He will bring peace on earth, peace with one another, and peace with God.

He will bring peace of conscience, knowing that we have peace with God.

This child will show the love of God in a way that no other miracle and no prophecy ever did, or could do.

That is why the angels sang. Because by the birth of Christ, peace would come between you and God. Death itself would be defeated. Good would triumph over evil. Love would stamp out hate. And it’s meant for all of us. Even people as filthy as shepherds.

That’s why the angel says to them, “Go. Go meet him. I’m not here just to tell you this happened, I’m here to tell you to go see the baby yourself.”

The angels leave, and so do the shepherds. They ran straight to Bethlehem find Joseph and Mary and the Christ.

They found the baby just as the angel described, wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.

When a Hebrew child was born, it was washed in water and rubbed in salt, then wrapped. It was the same with Jesus. This was God come to earth, but there was nothing special in the way he was born.

The question can be asked, though, of what good the angels’ appearance to the shepherds did. You would think that a night like this one these shepherds experienced would change their lives forever. That news of this event would spread everywhere and reach every ear. But scripture doesn’t say that was the case.

All the glories of this night seem to have had no effect on Bethlehem at all, much less the wider world. The circumstances of Christ’s birth seem to have been pretty well forgotten when Jesus began his ministry 30 years later. How could something like that have passed from memory?

There are some people who say all of that is evidence that the birth of Christ never happened this way at all. It was all made up.

I don’t think so. First, there were only a few shepherds in the field that night, not dozens. And given the hard lives they led, most of them had likely died before Christ began his preaching.

Remember, too, that these were shepherds. Scum. Unclean souls who were not even allowed inside the temple, whose testimony was not even allowed in court. Which is probably why verse 18 says the people they told “wondered” at what the shepherds said. Doesn’t say the shepherds were believed.

Joseph and Mary were strangers in Bethlehem. No one knew they were there. As far as we know, Jesus never visited the place of his birth.

So it makes sense that not much of this story would ever spread far. But why was this announcement made at all then, since it seems to have been of so little use?

Here’s why. For the same reason that he was born in a manger instead of a palace. For the same reason he was born to a mother and an earthly father who were poor.

Christ was promised to shepherds because he is the chief shepherd. His birth was common, because we are common.

The first notice of Christ’s birth wasn’t given to kings or the chief priests. Not to the wise and holy men in Jerusalem. It was instead to men who were weak and ignorant. But through people every bit as weak and ignorant as them, the gospel would be preached throughout all the world.

The miracle of Christmas isn’t angels or a star. Not shepherds or prophecies come to pass. The miracle of Christmas is a child.

John in his Gospel writes that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. What does that mean, “Word”?

When can you truly say that you’ve met someone? You can read about them. See them. Hear them. But it’s only when you talk with someone that you can say you’ve met them, only when their words have been spoken to you.

John says that Christ is God’s Word. In him, we meet God.

And in him is a miracle unlike any other, because of one simple fact: A miracle, by its very definition, involves something less being transformed into something greater.

The sick are made well. The blind see. The deaf hear. The dead are given life. Where there was only a few loaves and fish, there becomes enough food to feed a multitude.

But Christmas is the only miracle where something greater became less. A word that on Christmas Day became flesh. Became soft. Became weak. Became like us. That’s the miracle. We in our sinfulness could never approach God in His holiness, and so he came down to us.

It’s a miracle that never ends. A miracle that can never be repeated. And a miracle that means the way to God would never depend on who we are or what we have or what we do.

This night we wait in expectation of a gift. I took down my dictionary this week and looked that word up, gift. Here’s what it said: “a thing given willingly to someone without payment.”

What better way to describe Christ? Given willingly to everyone, given by a love without end, and the only payment required is that we accept him.

Let’s pray:

Father we are thankful every year for the Christmas season and for all it means, but we are especially thankful in this year. For in all this darkness around us, Your light shines brighter than ever before. Let us carry the hope, the joy, the peace, and the love of this season all through the year.

Thank you for reaching down to us in the form of a child. Thank you for reaching down to us still, in every day, in every circumstance, letting us know that You are always here in every way. Let it always be Christmas in our hearts. For we ask it in Jesus’s name, Amen.

We will close our service by singing Silent Night. Before we do that, I’m going to light a candle from the Christ candle and go right down the center aisle here. If you’re at the end of an aisle, I’ll light your candle and ask that you pass the flame to the person next to you. Will you please stand before we sing.

Benediction

Father now as we return out into the world, let it be with the joy of the angels, and the rejoicing of the shepherds, and the peace of Mary treasuring all these things in her heart. Be with us. Protect us. And God bless us, every one. Amen.