Luke 2:1-20

 

A.    The Christmas Gospel begins in a most impressive way. It begins in the throne room of Caesar Augustus in Rome, and he gives an impressive decree, that all the people of the world should be counted. The most powerful man in the world of that time says something, and everyone starts moving. Impressive! But that isn’t the focus of our attention today, is it? None of us have a small model of Caesar Augustus on his throne under the tree. Luke mentions Augustus only to tell us about the time and the circumstances of something greater that was about to happen.

B.     This greater event involved a carpenter from a small town and his fiancee. They were going to be counted, obeying the emperor’s decree. They were common folk. So common, that when they were looking for floor space in a guest house, they were told, “Sorry, no vacancy.” It didn’t matter that Mary was in labor, there was no room for them.  And then, the baby was born. Some think the stable was a small cave out back where the animals were kept. Others think it was “a lowly cattle shed.” I wonder if there was a stable at all– the Bible never mentions one. It only mentions a manger– a feeding trough. There may have been a public manger in front of the inn, just like you see watering troughs in front of the saloons in the old westerns. So we go from Caesar’s gilded throne in the marble halls of Rome, to a manger, a feeding trough, used as a baby’s crib in a pinch, and in the manger sleeps the king of the universe, more powerful than Caesar, whose rule will never end.

C.     What does this mean? What does this teach us? It teaches us that the most impressive things in this world are not what they seem, and the most lowly things in this world are not what they seem. St. Paul wrote that God chose the lowly things and the despised things of the world to shame the wise and the high and the mighty. It teaches us how God does his work. While humanity is being distracted by glitter and gold and even flashing lights over here, over there, where nobody is looking, God is doing his work. “How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given.”

D.     Today we celebrate and remember only the beginning of God’s most important work. If you think the manger is humble and lowly, you haven’t seen humble or lowly. The highest point of God’s most important work was even more humble, even more lowly, even despised as the baby in the manger, now fully grown lays down his life... suffering... bleeding... dying on a cross. Bearing the shame of the sin of the world.

E.     The meaning of all of this, all of Christ’s work, beginning to end, was announced that Christmas night– not to the emperor– not to the High Priest – but to shepherds, doing their work, watching in the fields. “To you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord” — a Savior, that is, someone who has come to your rescue. Whatever problem you have, he not only has a solution, he is the solution. Is your problem a guilty conscience? ...a painful past? ...a grim and hopeless future? He is the solution. He is the Savior. Jesus himself says to you and to me, “Come... and I will give you rest.” Forgiveness from guilt because he bore the guilt. Freedom from the pain and the hurt because he embraces you even if the whole world would cast you aside. “Light and life to all he brings– risen with healing in his wings.” And the future? What a future he has in store for you. The stock market may go down. The price of gas may go up. You have treasures in heaven beyond any earthly wealth. You’re shocked by a midnight phone call– a tragedy changes what you thought your future would be. “All power in heaven and earth is given to me,” he says. “I am with you always,” your Savior says. The doctor may bring you bad news. You have better news. News that will overcome death. “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me will live even though he dies,” he says.

F.     And he is yours. That is what we celebrate. He is the first, the ultimate, and the greatest Christmas gift ever, wrapped not in shiny paper, but in dull, ordinary swaddling cloths. The emperor’s decree and census mean nothing today. The records have been lost forever. But the baby in Bethlehem’s manger means everything to us today– and because of him, we are not lost. He is ours and we are his, forever.