And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. (Luke 2:8-12)
Most everyone has heard this passage, even if they’ve never cracked open a Bible. That’s because each December, in between scenes of the Grinch slithering around Whoville, or George Bailey being rescued by Clarence, or Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer running around the North Pole with Herbie, we have Linus, who discovers the true meaning of Christmas in the gospel of Luke. Now, I love Linus as much as the next person, but has popular culture made this story just a little too familiar? Maybe.
You see, the story begins with God sending out a birth announcement. In fact, there’s only one announcement of Christ’s birth recorded in the Scriptures, and there’s only one invitation from God to anyone to come see his newborn son. And God puts the wrong address on the envelope. He sends the announcement, overnight, to a bunch of uneducated, smelly, low-class, social and religious dropouts: shepherds. They’re kind of the last people you’d expect God to have on his mailing list.
They were the religious outcasts of their day. According to Jewish law, shepherds were always religiously unclean because their line of work kept them from going to church. But without them, who was going to watch the sheep while everyone else made the trip to Jerusalem to make sacrifices at the temple? Apparently, that didn’t matter. They were doing the dirty work so the churchy people could pretend to be holy. They were kind of like truckers, or maybe shift workers whose jobs keep them from regularly attending services. It wasn’t their fault, but who cares if you’re one of the pretty people.
Shepherds were also social outcasts. They were constantly on the move and viewed with suspicion – kind of like how some people might look at carnies. They were often accused of thievery, and weren’t allowed to testify in court since their word was considered untrustworthy. That’s a polite way of calling them pathological liars. Making matters worse, they had more contact with sheep than with people. They didn’t even come home at night since they were with the sheep 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Worse yet, they slept in the sheep’s pen at night to guard against theft and attack. In other words, you probably wouldn’t want your daughter marrying a shepherd.
So, imagine you’re God and you want to announce the most amazing, most incredible, most joyous news ever; an event that will change the course of human history – the birth of the Savior; the one for whom the nation of Israel had been waiting and hoping and praying for thousands of years to come. So, who do you announce it to? Who do you tell? Who do you invite to come and see? Uh, probably not a bunch of shepherds.
The point is that you would expect an event like the birth of Christ to be announced to the most important people in the nation. You know, the political, religious and military leaders. The hoi polloi. The media, maybe. But none of them got the text, or the e-mail, or the tweet, or the whatever. Oh, some foreign wise guys figured it out by following the star to Bethlehem, and then they informed Herod of what they’d heard. But they didn’t get an angelic messenger, or angel choir, or an invitation either. Only the social and religious outcasts got the memo. It’s like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearsing all year to perform Handel’s Messiah in front of a handful of folks on skid row.
Why? Why did God send his angels to announce the birth of Christ to a bunch of misfits? Were the shepherds especially pious, or unusually holy? Maybe they got the MVP for believers since they’d been locked out of church by the church police. Or, maybe they were expecting this thing to happen. Or, maybe they were part of the Occupy Grasslands movement. The truth is they probably thought that God had no idea who they were. And why would he? They don’t sacrifice at the temple; they don’t show up for the feasts; they don’t go to church; and their deepest theological discussions are with a bunch of sheep. So why them?
Maybe it was because God wanted to demonstrate, first to the shepherds, that his love doesn’t discriminate on the basis of class, or wealth or social standing. God doesn’t discriminate on the basis of intelligence, education, profession, political power or any other quality that we can think of. God doesn’t respect kings more than cabbies, or priests more than pew potatoes. He’s kind of indiscriminate that way.
Paul makes the same point in his first letter to the Corinthians when he says, “My dear friends, remember what you were when God chose you. The people of this world didn't think that many of you were wise. Only a few of you were in places of power, and not many of you came from important families. But God chose the foolish things of this world to put the wise to shame. He chose the weak things of this world to put the powerful to shame. What the world thinks is worthless, useless and nothing at all is what God has used to destroy what the world considers important. God did all this to keep anyone from bragging to him. You are God's children. He sent Christ Jesus to save us and to make us wise, acceptable and holy. So if you want to brag, do what the Scriptures say and brag about the Lord.” (1 Cor. 1:26-31)
I imagine that many nights, as the shepherds sat in those cold, lonely fields, they looked out over the village and saw the lights of homes far away. Maybe they heard the faint sound of families, people laughing, and wished they could be a part of that. And maybe you’ve felt that way, too. Maybe you’re not one of the pretty people. Maybe you’re not particularly wealthy, or powerful or influential. Maybe you’ll never see your name in the paper for some great accomplishment. Maybe you’re on the fringes, either socially or religiously. And when you compare your level of religious observance to others, the comparison doesn’t stack up very well: spotty church attendance, infrequent Bible reading and even less frequent prayer. You think that if God actually knows that you exist, he’s probably not very impressed.
If this strikes a chord, then I’ve got good news. Great news, in fact. The best possible news. God loves you – just like he loved those shepherds. You’re special to him – just like those shepherds were special to him. So special, in fact, that he gave them the incredible privilege of being the first to hear of Christ’s birth and, other than Mary and Joseph, the first to lay eyes on the Son of God.
God didn’t give those privileges to the Roman Caesar, or to the Jewish high priest. He gave it to the shepherds. Not in spite of who they were, but because of whom they were: humble, ordinary people with few opinions about themselves. Simple people who were willing to believe what God told them, and when they heard the news they didn’t seek out a bunch of religious professionals for a second opinion. When they were invited to visit Bethlehem to see the newborn Messiah, they didn’t worry about who was going to watch the sheep. They didn’t get bogged down in debates about how they were going to find a small baby in such a large city. They simply obeyed and went.
God likes to use the ordinary so that, like a mirror, his power can be reflected in his creation. And it’s true that God didn’t send an angel to give you or me the news, either. But he did send you an invitation, and here’s what it says: “I’m here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody, worldwide: A Savior has been born in David’s town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master.” (Luke 2:10-11)
Don’t let the simple yet profound message of Christmas be lost on you this season: God knows you and loves you – even if you’re a misfit.
Grace,
Randy
No comments:
Post a Comment