Joy Experienced by the Shepherds

Notes

Acknowledge those who decorated the sanctuary

Acknowledge those who participated in Christmas Cookie Drop

Acknowledge those who installed the lift

Acknowledge those who helped with the Christmas Party

Introduction

Have you ever been invited to be a part of something you really didn’t feel you had any business being a part of? Maybe you were picked to be on a team where you felt like you were the weakest link. Maybe you were given an opportunity to impart some knowledge, experience, or information and you had to room of people where you thought, what am I doing here. Maybe you witnessed something so special and so beautiful that you were utterly humbled that you were able to participate.

I feel that way pretty often if I’m honest.

Preaching and teaching here at City Chapel weekly is such a gift and an honor that it is not lost on me the priveledge you afford me.

Sharing and teaching at conferences where other pastors and missionaries are present who have been doing much harder things with less recognition and support.

Praying for those whose faith, in my eyes, dwarfs the meager offering I can give in praying for them.

To see how God transforms and changes a life for His glory. That’s what really gets me every single time. When there is a clear and undeniable change in the life a human where they have touched and born-again by the grace and mercy of God. I’m here for it… it humbles me.

The shepherds that we will read about this morning, were given an honor that no one would have predicted. Truly, what would be the list of dignitaries that you would have invited to welcome the King of the Universe?

When King Charles III was crowned in 2023, Westminster Abbey was filled with heads of state, foreign royalty, prime ministers, and celebrities. The guest list was carefully curated—over 2,000 dignitaries from around the world, each selected for their position, influence, or connection to power. That's how earthly kingdoms work. The powerful recognize the powerful. The elite gather with the elite. So imagine the scene in first-century Judea: the King of Kings is born, and who receives the first royal announcement? Not Caesar Augustus. Not Herod. Not the high priest or the Sanhedrin. But shepherds—working men on a hillside, doing one of the most ordinary and least respected jobs of their day. No one would have put them on the guest list, yet God did. This uncommon grace, this upside-down invitation, tells us something profound about the kingdom that has just broken into our world.

Let us read our text this morning. If you are willing and able, would you stand with me as I read our text in Luke 2:8-20. If you have your bibles or on your devices you may follow along with me.

This is the word of the Lord. Let us pray. Amen. Please be seated.

The Shepherds

So let me ask you—if you had been responsible for announcing the birth of the King of Kings, who would have made your guest list? Who would you have sent the angelic herald to? The high priest? The Sanhedrin? Roman dignitaries? Wealthy patrons?

The entire host of heaven rent the skies open—and their audience was a handful of shepherds in a field. This tells us everything about God's economy. As Paul would later write, 'Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth' (1 Cor 1:26). God delights in choosing the overlooked to display His glory.

This is good news for you and for me!

Theologian DA Carson points out that shepherds in first-century Palestine occupied one of society's lowest rungs. Living isolated in open country and working night watches, they were viewed with suspicion and contempt. Popular opinion accused them of thievery and robbery, and their prolonged absences and poor reputation disqualified them as legal witnesses. The Mishnah and Talmud grouped shepherds with gamblers and tax collectors among despised occupations, with one third-century rabbi declaring, "There is no more despised occupation in the world than that of shepherds." Yet the New Testament radically reverses this view—shepherds are held in high esteem, and the shepherd becomes a symbol of God himself (Luke 15:4-6; Ezekiel 34:11-16). This transformation likely stems from Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who knows his sheep by name and lays down his life for them (John 10:3, 11-13).

Heaven's glory descends—but not where anyone expected.

Throughout Israel's history, the glory of the Lord marked the most significant moments: the giving of manna in the wilderness, the covenant at Sinai, the filling of the tabernacle and Solomon's temple. This visible presence of God accompanied awesome, nation-defining events. The prophets Isaiah and Habakkuk promised that God's glory would one day fill the earth and restore Israel.

So when the glory of the Lord shone in the darkness that night, where did it appear? Not in the temple courts in nearby Jerusalem where priests offered sacrifices. Not around the manger where the newborn King lay sleeping. Not to the religious elite who studied the prophecies or the political powers who governed the land.

Instead, heaven's stage lights illuminated an open field. The audience? Lowly shepherds—despised, disqualified, dismissed by society—faithfully keeping watch over their sheep in the night.

The Angel Appearing to the Shepherds by Thomas Cole, (1834) is an oil on canvas painting over seventeen feet wide.

The God who fills the earth with His glory chose to reveal the birth of His Son first to those the world had written off. This is the upside-down economy of the kingdom that has just broken into our world. Not many wise, not many noble, not many powerful—but shepherds sitting in darkness, about to be flooded with light.

We see a beautiful illustration of John’s gospel that the light has shone in the darkness… John 1:5 “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

If you've ever felt too ordinary, too broken, or too far from the center of things to matter to God, the shepherds prove otherwise. The glory of the Lord doesn't wait for you to clean up, climb the ladder, or earn your way in—it meets you in the field where you are, doing the work you've been given, and invites you to witness the extraordinary.

Good News for All People

Luke 2:10–14 “But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.””

A friend shared this quote with me this week… and I thought how appropriate as we see the shepherds in the dark and the glory of the Lord came to them… “I (almost) always come limping into Advent, desperate for light, but almost too tired to look for it. Then I remember: The Light came looking for me, and that’s the whole point.” - Annie B. Jones

The Light came looking for me.

Vs 9 tells us the shepherds were terrified… so the angel responds, “Don’t be afraid” :)

Good News for All People

The angel doesn't give his name because only the message matters. He tells the terrified shepherds that their fear will be replaced by "great joy"—and this joy isn't just for them. It's for "all the people," meaning all of Israel.

The phrase "good news" (or "gospel") would have sounded familiar to anyone living under Roman rule. It was the language of imperial propaganda—used to announce the birth of an heir to Caesar, his coming of age, or his rise to the throne. But the gospel story of Jesus completely redefines what "good news" really means.

Notice the word "today." Throughout Luke's Gospel, this word connects the fulfillment of yesterday's promises to this present moment. God's ancient prophecies aren't distant history—they're breaking into reality right now, in real time, in Bethlehem.

And Bethlehem matters. While Jerusalem was known as "the city of David" because he conquered it, Bethlehem was David's hometown—the place where the shepherd boy became a king. Micah prophesied that though Bethlehem was one of the smallest clans in Judah, from it would come a ruler (Micah 5:2). Once again, God is reversing expectations, elevating the small and overlooked.

Then comes the stunning identification: this Savior wrapped in cloth and lying in a feeding trough is "Christ the Lord." Not just another deliverer like the judges of old, but the Savior—the Messiah, the Lord himself. Earlier, Mary called God "my Savior" (1:47). Now that same title belongs to the baby in the manger. Paul would later proclaim Jesus as "Lord" in the heart of the Roman Empire itself (Acts 28:31), directly challenging Caesar's claim to that title. The good news isn't about Rome's emperor—it's about heaven's King, born in the humblest circumstances imaginable.

Suddenly, the lone angel is joined by a "heavenly host"—a military term describing God's army. But this army doesn't come to conquer with violence or inspire terror. They come to announce good news, to proclaim peace, and to give glory to God.

The word "peace" here isn't a casual wish or greeting—it's a proclamation of what God has just accomplished. This is spiritual peace between God and humanity, the restoration of what sin had broken. The language would have resonated with Luke's audience in two ways: it echoed the Roman "Pax Romana" (the peace of Caesar) and the Hebrew "shalom" (complete wholeness and flourishing).

But here's the contrast: Under Roman propaganda, Caesar was praised as "the savior of all," and Roman peace meant submission to empire—obedience earned through force. Rome's goodwill had to be won through domination, then loyalty and service, and even then it only promised political security.

God's peace is entirely different. The angels announce peace "to those on whom his favor rests"—literally, "people of his goodwill." This isn't goodwill we've earned or favor we've won through our obedience or virtue. This is God's gracious choice to visit humanity with salvation. As Jesus will later tell his disciples, "Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom" (Luke 12:32).

Here's what this means for us: The good news isn't that if you try hard enough, God might favor you. The good news is that God has already chosen to pour out His favor on the unlikely, the unqualified, the ordinary—on shepherds in fields and on you and me. The movement is from heaven to earth—God initiating, God sending, God announcing. But it requires a response. Will we, like the shepherds, move from earth back to heaven in worship and proclamation? God's peace doesn't wait for you to earn it. It rests on you because of His good pleasure, His gracious choice. The only question is: will you receive it and respond?

Responding to the Good News

Luke 2:15–20 “When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.”

Responding to the Good News

After delivering their message and singing praise, the angels depart. They don't stay to push the shepherds into action, give them directions, or protect them on their journey. God has made His move—now it's their turn, humanity's turn to respond.

We see three different responses to the good news:

The shepherds go, see, and rejoice—then they tell others.

Those who hear them marvel at the story.

And Mary treasures these things, pondering them deeply in her heart.

Notice what the shepherds do. They recognize that what the Lord has revealed to them demands a response. Though the angel never commanded them to go, they hurry to find the baby—not to confirm whether they should believe, but because they already believe. When they arrive and see the child, they don't keep it to themselves. They glorify God and become the first evangelists, proclaiming to everyone what has happened.

The people who hear their story are amazed. Maybe they're surprised that the long-awaited Savior has actually been born. Maybe they're shocked that Christ the Lord would arrive in such humble circumstances. Maybe they can't believe angels would announce such world-changing news to such lowly people. But here's the thing: amazement isn't quite faith. Marveling at the story isn't the same as responding to it.

Then there's Mary. She treasures all these words and ponders them in her heart. The verb tenses tell us this wasn't a one-time reflection—she kept treasuring, she continued pondering. She's trying to put the pieces together, to understand the full picture of what God is doing. The Holy Spirit doesn't give her instant divine insight. She's living in the middle of the story, learning more as the shepherds share what the angels told them, wrestling with what it all means. So when we sing, “Mary, did you know?”, we can probably anticipate her response as… sort of. :)

Mary shows us that authentic spirituality includes the hard work of thinking—wondering, reasoning, trying to figure things out. She's like the good soil in Jesus' parable of the sower: she hears the word, holds it fast in an honest heart, and bears fruit with patient endurance (Luke 8:15). Her deep, ongoing contemplation stands in stark contrast to those who merely marvel and move on.

So how do we respond to the good news?

We have the shepherds' example: Go. See. Tell. Don't wait for perfect understanding or ideal circumstances. Move toward Jesus because you believe, then share what you've found with others.

We have Mary's example: Treasure. Ponder. Hold fast. Don't be satisfied with superficial amazement. Let the reality of what God has done sink deep into your heart. Think about it. Wrestle with it. Let it transform you over time.

This week, we get to be like a shepherd. Identify, be open to see, one person who needs to hear the good news—maybe someone who's feeling overlooked, unqualified, or far from God—and tell them what God has done. Share your story of how God has met you in your ordinary, everyday life.

Conclusion

The shepherds teach us that joy isn't found in having everything figured out or being qualified enough to matter. Joy erupts when ordinary people encounter the extraordinary grace of God—when those sitting in darkness are flooded with light, when the overlooked are seen, when the despised are invited to witness the King.

This Advent, we're discovering that the sacred breaks into the ordinary. Two weeks ago we prepared our hearts. Last week Paul reminded us of the hope found in the birth of Jesus—hope anchored in God's promises fulfilled in Bethlehem. This week we've experienced the joy of the shepherds—the joy of being chosen, of being met right where we are, of running toward Jesus and sharing what we've found.

Next week, we'll turn our attention to peace. Not the peace of Rome, earned through conquest and maintained by force. Not the fragile peace that depends on perfect circumstances. But the peace that Simeon discovered when he held the baby Jesus in his arms—a peace so deep, so complete, that he could say, "Lord, now I can depart in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation."

Until then, go like the shepherds. Tell someone what God has done. And treasure like Mary—make space to ponder the wonder of it all.

The Light came looking for you. That's the good news. That's the joy. That's what changes everything.

Let's pray.