No Room

Welcome

Well, good morning Lifepoint! If we haven’t met yet, my name is Dan and I serve here as the teaching pastor for the Worthington Campus. I’m really grateful you’re here with us today!

If this is your first time…

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We are continuing in short series leading up to Christmas [EXPAND to Connect to Bumper]. If you have a bible with you, meet me in Luke 2. Luke chapter 2 and we’ll be in the first 7 verses today.

And while you’re turning there…

Introduction

I have this core memory that sticks out to me from when I was a kid. And it’s an odd one, because it’s really petty.

When I was in third grade - my school had a program where we all go swim lessons. It was like the thing about third grade that everyone looked forward to. For about a two plus hour block of the day, we’d all get on a bus, head to the high school, and take a swim class.

And that experience itself has all the things a third grade boy would love!

Field trip. Basically no school. Playing in the pool.

I was pumped.

More than that, I was a pretty good swimmer at that age. Up to that point in my life, all my family vacations had been out to the lake so I was comfortable in the water. My dad had been a lifeguard and so from a very early age, he wanted to make sure his kids were strong swimmers.

But for safety reasons on these third grade trips, the teachers didn’t just want to “take our word for it.” We all had to pass a swim to test to be put in our groups: Advanced, Intermediate, and Beginner. All you had to do was swim across the shallow end of the pool - about 3 feet deep.

I remember getting up to the edge of the pool - convinced I was bound for the Advanced Group (who were the only ones allowed to use the Diving board by the way). I’ve got my goggles on…getting ready to jump in the water on the teachers mark, determined to prove myself in front of all my friends…only to slip at the very last second, falling face-first into the water…hitting my shin against the edge on the way in - and with searing pain, coming back to the surface with tears streaming down my face.

The teacher missed the slip entirely. He looked over and saw a third grader thrashing in the shallow end, crying, gasping for air…and the only conclusion he could come to is that I was desperately afraid of the water.

And so, I was relegated, not to the Advanced, Intermediate…or even the beginner group. I landed in the “Water is my friend” group.

Go ahead…laugh it up.

For third-grade Dan, this was the most mortifying experience of my life.

In fact, to this day, I go right back to the moment of being excluded from that group at least once a week. Every time I’m working other people…every team I’m apart of…there is a part of me that’s just wait for the moment with I make the proverbial “slip” into the pool; waiting for the moment I get put back in the “water is my friend” group - instead of the one I desperately want to be in.

And, again, I know it’s such a lame story. In comparison, there are so many worse things that have happened to me. You have worse things!

But as I’ve been working on this message, it finally clicked why this moment is cemented in my imagination. Psychologists actually tell us that the human brain processes rejection in the exact same place it processes physical pain. To your nervous system, a broken heart and a broken leg look surprisingly similar.

So even though it was just a swim class, my brain recorded it as a wound.

There was a group I desperately wanted to be a part of… and I was excluded. And that exclusion came, not because I wasn’t good enough or didn't have the skill… it was because I was misunderstood.

And so what I was left with was this overwhelming sense of rejection. This sense of being:

Not good enough…

Not wanted…

Overlooked…

Dismissed…

PAUSE

See, there is something hauntingly powerful about rejection, isn’t there? It doesn't matter if it happened on a playground, in a boardroom, or a bedroom. Wherever.

Rejection leaves a mark.

Now, why does this matter? We usually think of the Christmas story as warm and cozy. But if we look closely at Luke chapter 2, we find out that the story of Jesus begins exactly where my swim story ended… it is a story wrapped in rejection.

And I think for many of us, it feels impossible to move past that kind of pain. When you’ve been pushed out or left behind, that feeling follows you.

But the Gospel offers a different way. This story shows us a God who didn't come to fix our pain from a distance, but came to share in it. He embraces the rejection we fear so that He can heal the rejection we feel. He offers us a way forward where we are defined by His acceptance, not the world’s exclusion.

That is the impossible hope we are talking about today. So if you’re not there yet, open with me to Luke chapter 2. I’ll read the passage, pray, and then we’ll get started.

Luke 2:1–7 ESV

1 In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 And all went to be registered, each to his own town. 4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, 5 to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. 6 And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

PRAY

The Story

Alright, let’s get started.

Mary and Joseph Headed to Bethlehem

By the time we get to Luke 2, we have jumped forward approximately 9.5 months from where we left off last week.

Look with me again at v. 1.

Luke 2:1–3 ESV

1 In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 And all went to be registered, each to his own town.

Part of the Census process was for people to return to their home town. That’s were they could be registered and set up for taxes. This was a common pattern for a census in the ancient world.

And this is where some of the details really start to get interesting - at least for me. And we have to read between the lines a little bit.

Joseph and Mary are still together.

First of all, Joseph and Mary are still together. She would have absolutely been “showing” at this point - she’s days…maybe moments away from giving birth.

But Luke also goes out of his way to say that they are still only betrothed, not married. You can see that in v. 5.

Now, one of the things that means is that Joseph has not left Mary - the thing he would have been legally and customarily encouraged to do. Remember from last week, in talking with the Angel, Mary can only envision the kind of life that laid ahead of her as un-married expectant mother.

But what we find here is that specific fear never materialized.

We know from the Gospel of Matthew that the Angel appeared to Joseph and said,

Matthew 1:20–21 ESV

20 “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

That scattered trash maybe looks a bit more like this…

Point to stage with the trash collected in a large heap.

Maybe it’s not as bad as it could be…but Mary and now Joseph are not really “out of the woods.”

Joseph’s Home Town Rejection

Here’s the second thing that sticks out to me. Joseph is traveling back to his home town.

And for Bethlehem to be Joseph’s home town would mean there’s some meaningful connection he has there. It’s more than just the place he was born - historically we know it means he’s still got family there and more than likely, property in Bethlehem. This was the pattern in the ancient world.

Now, it’s not clear exactly what the set-up was, but what Luke expects us to understand is that Joseph would have been a known entity in Bethlehem.

And what sticks out to me is what’s not in the story. See, what should have greeted him, as was the custom, was a kind of welcome party. Maybe not a parade, but some king of home-coming celebration. Especially if’s bringing his expectant wife…and in all likelihood a new grand-baby!

But that’s not what they find.

There are no greeters. There’s no homecoming meal.

Family Rejection

It’s actually worse than we imagine.

You see, I think if we’ve heard this story before, we tend to imagine Joseph and Mary rolling in late at night and at the last minute trying to find a place to stay in the busy metropolis of Bethlehem.

That’ve wound up at the local Motel six - and unfortunately, due to the surge in population - they were just too late and couldn’t find a room.

But as we carefully look at this passage, a different, much more devastating picture emerges.

Look with me at v. 7.

Luke 2:7 ESV

7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

Look at that word right at the end, “Inn.”

See, in Greek, there’s a specific word for public lodging like a hotel. Luke actually uses that word in the story of the Good Samaritan later on in this book so we know he knows that word!

But he doesn’t use that word here.

He uses the word κατάλυμα…it means guest house…or spare room.

Now, in a typical home in this part of the world, you would have had the main room where people ate and slept - and then you’d have the κατάλυμα…the guest room. Actually it was a place of honor and respect.

The “Law” of Hospitality

Okay, so I know what some of you are thinking.

You’re thinking, "So it’s a house, not a hotel. But maybe it was just full? Maybe it’s just a booking error during a busy census?" Aren’t you reading into this a bit much?

We have to be careful not to read this story with Western, 21st-century eyes. We book hotels; they practiced hospitality.

New Testament scholars, like Kenneth Bailey who lived in the Middle East for 40 years, tell us that in this culture, hospitality wasn't just "nice"—it was a sacred duty. It was the primary way you honored your family name. For a man to return to his own village—his own kin—with a pregnant wife and not be immediately taken into a home would have been an unthinkable humiliation for the whole village.

If the guest room was full, a loving family would have moved people around. They would have given up their own bed. You simply did not put a visiting relative—especially a pregnant woman—in the lower area where the animals were kept.

Unless...of course…you wanted to send a message.

Luke doesn't have to write, "And the family rejected them." He just has to tell us they ended up in the animal stall. His original readers would have gasped. They would have known instantly: The door was shut.

Let’s put the pieces together.

Joseph has arrived in Bethlehem. And it’s not just any town…it’s his hometown.

He’s required to go there because of the family connections he has…and would absolutely have been known by at least relatives if not his own parents.

There’s no homecoming.

And they’re looking for a place to stay.

Friends, do you see it yet?

In likelihood, Joseph and Mary are not showing up on a strangers doorstep…they’re trying to stay with family.

Family that knows Joseph. Family that can see Mary.

And all of a sudden, v. 7 hits a little different, doesn’t it?

Luke 2:7 ESV

7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

It hits different because Luke isn't describing a booking error.

He is describing rejection.

And no, they didn't turn Joseph and Mary away entirely—that would have been too great a public shame. Instead, they did something far subtler but at least as painful.

They said, "You can stay. But not in the Guest Room. You can stay with the animals…like the animals.”

They were accepted, but only as second-class citizens. They were given a place to sleep, but they were denied a place of belonging.

And so, the King of Glory wasn't born in a palace. He wasn't even born in the guest room. He was born in the garage—with the smells, the noise, and the mess. He was born already excluded and rejected. He was put in the "Water is my friend" group.

The Four Faces of Rejection

And the reality is, we know what that feels like. For some of us, rejection is far too familiar.

But we have to ask the question: Why? Why does a cold shoulder, a missed invite, or a "No Room" sign sting so badly? Why does something as insignificant as a 3rd Grade swimming group stick with us for 30+ years?

Psychologists Roy Baumeister and Mark Leary give us a powerful answer.

After studying decades of research, they concluded that belonging isn't just a "want"—like wanting a new car or a nicer apartment. It is a fundamental human need, right up there with food and safety.

See, for most of human history, you couldn't survive alone. If you were kicked out of the tribe, you didn't just get lonely; you starved, or you were eaten. Exclusion wasn't just an inconvenience; it was a death sentence.

So, in many ways, it’s like we’re hardwired to be terrified of rejection. That’s why your nervous system can’t really tell the difference between a broken heart and a broken leg. Your brain treats social rejection like a physical threat to your survival.

And for many of us, “rejection” and “exclusion” are deep wounds that we’ve received in our past - often wounds that haven’t healed properly…and when that happens, they become infected.

That fear of being rejected again forces us into patterns that themselves become painful and repetitive. To make matters worse, we even find that in our fear of rejection, we become rejectors! Blocking people out so they can’t do to us what we may have just done to them.

We tend to think of rejection as just one thing—a door slamming in our face.

But Croatian theologian, Miroslav Volf, points out that rejection wears different masks. And if we look at the Christmas story according to Luke, and even our own lives, we see all four of them.

Rejection as Elimination

Maybe for you, rejection feels like Elimination.

This is the sharpest kind. Rejection as Elimination says: "I don't want you here at all."

In the Christmas story, we see this with Herod, who wants to erase the child. This may even have been what Joseph and Mary experienced with every closed door they encountered along the way.

In our lives, this is the pain of being "erased." It’s the divorce where you aren't just separated, you are cut out of the family photos. It’s the "ghosting" where someone you thought you connected with just vanishes. It’s the feeling of being "Cancelled." The message is simple and brutal: The world would be better if you weren't in it.

Rejection as Assimilation

Or maybe for you, it’s subtler. Maybe it feels like Assimilation.

Rejection as Assimilation says: "I will accept you... if." "I will accept you, if you become exactly like me."

I wonder if Joseph and Mary felt this pressure. "We would give you the guest room if you hid the pregnancy. If you weren't so messy."

This is the "Columbus Corporate" version of rejection. It’s the pressure to fit the culture. You are welcome in the friend group, if you have the right house and the right kids…and the right kind of school.

You are welcome at work, if you edit your personality to sound like everyone else.

It’s a crushing feeling, because you aren't being loved for who you are; you are being accepted for the mask you wear.

Rejection as Domination

Then there is the pain of Domination.

This is exactly what happened in the house. The family didn't kick them out. They kept them down. "You can be in the house, but you stay with the animals." This is the rejection of being used. Maybe you feel this. You aren't excluded from the team, but you are never heard. You are the "utility" friend—the one people call when they need a ride, or a favor, or a listener—but they never ask how you are doing. You are included, but you aren't equal.

Rejection as Abandonment

And finally, maybe the most common and the one we’re most afraid of: Abandonment.

The message here isn't "I hate you." The message is: "I don't think about you at all." While Mary was in labor—in the most vulnerable moment of her life—the rest of the village was asleep. They were too busy with the census. Too busy with their own stress. This is the rejection of neglect. It’s the text that goes unanswered for three days. It’s the feeling of walking through a crowded city, surrounded by thousands of people, and realizing that if you disappeared, no one would notice. It’s the feeling of being invisible.

We are the Innkeepers

Friends, I don't know which one of those lands for you. Maybe you feel Erased, Edited, Used, or Ignored. But if you look at the stage [Gesture to the Trash Heap]... if you look at the mess...you realize that Jesus entered the world right in the middle of all of it. He didn't come to a VIP section. He came to the place of Elimination, Assimilation, Domination, and Abandonment.

And this leads us to the hard truth…the messy, broken, and chaotic part of being fallen human beings. See, if we stop here, we are just victims. But the Christmas story challenges us to go deeper. Because the truth is, we aren't just Joseph and Mary in this story. We are also the Innkeepers.

How often am I the one who put up 'No Room' signs in my lives?

How often do I have 'No Room' for people who are different from me politically, culturally, socially, theologically? 'No Room' for inconvenient neighbors, annoying family members, and needy friends?

More than that…tragically…how often do I have 'No Room' for God

You see, in our modern rhythms of life, we are so full—full of our schedules, our worries, our plans, our noise—that when Jesus shows up, we say, 'I can't fit you in the guest room of my life. You can stay in the garage. You can have Sunday morning, but don't touch my finances. Don't touch my relationships.'

We do this, not just because we are busy. But because we are building our own little kingdoms. We think, 'If I have the perfect house, the perfect peace and quiet, and the right friends, then I matter.' Jesus and the messy neighbor threaten that control. We don't have room for them because we are too full of ourselves.

So how different are we really from the same family members who welcomed Joseph and Mary, only in the convenient, out of sight margins of their world?

The Gospel of the Christmas Story

And this brings us to the most shocking part of the Christmas story. What does God do with a world that rejects Him?

What does God do with a family that puts Him with the animals?

He doesn't leave. He doesn't call down fire. He stays.

Thomas Merton, a philosopher and monk who spent much of his life thinking about this, said it this way:

'Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is absolutely no room for Him at all, Christ has come uninvited. But because He cannot be at home in it... His place is with those “others” for whom there is no room.'

Look at this stage.

Gesture to the Trash Heap

This is what rejection looks like. It looks like a mess. But look closely. God decided that if the world had no room for Him in the clean places, He would build His Kingdom in the dirty ones. He chose the manger. He chose the rejection.

Why?

So that if you are here today, and you feel rejected—if you feel like you are in the 'trash heap' of life—you would know this: God is not far from you. He is sitting right next to you.

He was rejected for you, so that you could be accepted by Him. He took the place of the outcast, so that the outcast could have a home.

And honestly, that is just the beginning of the reversal. You see, when Luke tells us in verse 7 that there was “no place” for them in the inn, he uses a very common Greek word for "place"—topos. There was no topos for Jesus in the world.

But fast forward thirty years. It’s the night before Jesus is going to die. He is sitting with his disciples—men who are about to abandon him, men who are confused and afraid of being left alone. And in John 14, Jesus looks at them and uses that exact same word again.

John 14:2–3 ESV

2 In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.

He says, “In my Father’s house are many rooms... I go to prepare a place [topos] for you.”

Do you see what He did?

Jesus entered a world that had No Place for Him, so that He could go and Prepare a Place for us.

Don't miss the cost of this. Jesus didn't just open a door; He took our eviction. On the Cross, Jesus was cast out of the Father’s presence. He experienced the ultimate Elimination and Abandonment. He took the cosmic 'No Room' that our sins deserved, so that when we knock on the door of heaven, the Father looks at us and says, 'Welcome home. The table is set for you.

The ultimate promise of the Gospel is this: Because He was excluded, you are now embraced. Because He was pushed to the margins, you are now welcomed into the center. And because He conquered the grave, there is no person, no past, and no "trash heap" that can ever separate you from His love.

So What

So, as we stare at this pile of trash…what do we do with this?

How do we live differently this week in a city like Columbus that runs on exclusion?

I want to offer you two challenges. One for the Wound of rejection, and one for the Sin of rejection.

For the Rejected

If you are here today carrying the scar of Rejection—whether it’s Elimination, Domination, or Abandonment—hear me clearly: The "Innkeepers" of your life (your ex, your boss, your parent, that friend group) do not hold the verdict on your soul. They only had "no room." That speaks to their capacity, not your value.

Your healing begins when you stop looking to the Inn for approval and start looking to the Manger for your identity. The King of Glory moved heaven and earth to be near you. That is what you are worth. So this week, when you feel that sting of "not belonging," I want you to preach the Gospel to yourself. Remind yourself: "I may not have a place at their table, but the God of the Universe has prepared a place for me at His."

For the Rejectors

And for those of us who realize we have been the Innkeepers—protecting our comfort, ignoring the messy people, "assimilating" our friends—the challenge is harder. It feels impossible to open up our lives when we are so busy and tired. But the call of Christmas is to move from Exclusion to Embrace.

Miroslav Volf says that a true embrace involves opening your arms to create space, and waiting for the other to come in. So this week, I want you to look for the "No Room" people in your life.

Maybe it’s the relative you strongly disagree with politically who you’ll see at Christmas.

Maybe it’s the awkward coworker everyone else ignores (the "Water is my friend" group of your office).

Maybe it’s the neighbor you’ve been too "busy" to greet.

Make room. Don't just tolerate them. Create space for them. Ask them a question. Send the text. Extend the invite. Not because they earned it. But because you serve a God who created space for you when you didn't earn it.

Conclusion

We are called to be a people of the Open Door in a world of Locked Gates. We are called to be the people who say, "There is room here," because we know the One who made room for us.

Let’s pray.