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The Songs of Luke's Gospel

Jesus: Song of Love

TEXT: LUKE 2:1-20

A baby was born and the heavens resounded with the music of angels. A baby was born and the history of the world was forever changed. A baby was born and the voices of the prophets from centuries gone by echoed through the universe. A baby was born and the great enemy of God knew that he would soon be crushed. All because a baby was born.

It's amazing to me to watch the impact that babies have on people. Have you ever noticed that? Sure you have. I mean the presence of a baby does amazing things to adults. Take a group of normally sober-minded adults, put them in a room and introduce into that setting a gurgling, bright-eyed baby and watch what happens. The whole countenance of those people changes. The eyes light up, the posture raises noticeably, the hands come together in "patty-cake" position, and the corners of the mouth turn up in the goofiest grin you've ever seen.

Today we are remembering and celebrating the fact that God took the world by surprise by coming to us as a baby. Truth be told, the world didn't much notice. It took the angels of heaven to announce the significance of this birth. The rulers of the world barely turned their heads, at least at first. Luke shows us that here in the way he frames this familiar story.

We are so familiar with it that we tend to automatically read into the birth of this baby what we know about who he really was. But as Luke initially presents it to us, it wasn't all that spectacular. In fact the circumstances were quite pitiful. A poor, scared little couple from an insignificant town giving birth to their first child while on the road. I can't help but think that Mary and Joseph understood the miracle, at least to some degree. After all, they'd been living with it for nine months. But listen again to how common the birth sounds as Luke relates it to us: (read Luke 2:6-7)

How significant that Mary wrapped her new baby herself. It speaks of how lonely this birth was. There were no midwives, no helpers, no family - all of which would have been expected. Mary and Joseph brought their son into the world alone. No one really noticed. It was no big deal. Happens all the time.

Of course there were many people in Israel who were expecting Messiah to come, but announcements of saviors arriving were a dime a dozen. Many were indeed looking for his coming, but there had been so many false alarms. The expectation, the hope of Messiah was a part of them. It was ingrained in them from their earliest days. They were looking for his coming. It's just the way he came that threw them off.

Remember what they were really hoping for. They were tired of being political pawns in the hands of the Roman government. They were tired of being dragged into captivity and slavery by stronger neighbors. They were sick of being crushed under foot by malicious dictators. All of that kept alive their hope for a Messiah, a Savior.

So they tended to focus on the prophetic words about a revolutionary deliverer, rather than a suffering servant. They were looking for Isaiah's messiah who would "subdue kings before him and turn them into dust with his sword."

We've heard it already in the other songs of Luke's gospel during this Advent. In Zechariah's song he speaks very clearly of a Messiah who will "rescue us from our enemies and be a horn of salvation," which speaks of strength and power. Simeon's song speaks of one who will be so revolutionary that he will cause division even among the people of Israel. And even Mary's song speaks of the reversal of fortunes and roles that this Messiah will accomplish. Remember the words from last week's text? "Rulers will be brought down and the humble will be exalted. The rich will be left hungry and the poor will be filled."

So it's easy to see, isn't it, how they missed a baby? They were looking for a king. They wanted a political giant, a revolutionary leader, a military strong man. And isn't that how we would do it? If our mission was to change the world and accomplish the things that the prophets were predicting, wouldn't we want to do it in the strongest form possible?

Luke realizes that expectation and even as he begins to tell us the story, he starts out with Caesar Augustus. By the time he died the people believed he was a god. Interesting contrast, isn't it? The man believed to be a god intersects in time and space the God who became a man. But who determined the direction of the world? Who changed the course of history? A caesar? A king? A president? No. A baby. God took us by surprise. He disarmed us.

Just when we expected a conquering king, he came to us as a harmless, vulnerable, poor little baby boy. Have you learned this spiritual lesson? When you're dealing with God, very often you don't get what you would have expected. We often expect that if God really decided to fix things and act in this world, it would happen decisively, even harshly. We listen for a song of conquering courage. We listen for a song of revolution. And that's why so often we miss the song of God's coming. Because very often, as on this night, he comes not as a song of judgement, but as a song of love.

There was scarcely a tremor in the movement of the world when he came. Hardly anyone noticed. Nobody made the announcement, so God sent his angels to say: (read Luke 2:10-11).

And how did he come? As a great warrior on a mighty white horse? No. (read Luke 2:12)

And at that announcement the host of heaven joined in a great doxology: (read Luke 2:14).

That statement, by the way, is not exclusive. It doesn't mean that God's favor rests on some people. It really means "peace to everyone because God's favor rests on everyone" and he proved it in a little baby. The good news is for all the people.

And the shepherds here fit into that purpose. We're so used to seeing them at the nativity that it doesn't surprise us anymore. Of course there were shepherds in that country, that's nothing. What is something is that there were kings and governors and princes and lawyers and priests and bankers. There were palaces and courts and decision-making conference rooms. There were big names and influential powers. But the birth of Jesus, that "slight ripple" on the surface of the earth's history, was undeclared, unannounced, and unnoticed by all of these. Instead, the angels of God proclaimed the news to shepherds.

They were nobodies. Their reputations were so questioned they weren't even allowed to testify in a court of law. And yet they fit right in to Luke's guest list of kingdom participants. What a surprise! What a strange way for God to accomplish the salvation of the world.

Actually, I don't know why we should be all that surprised. Because when you're dealing with God, you almost never get what you expect. And I, for one, am very grateful for that.

Friends, the good news of Christmas to you today is that God comes not as a song of judgement, but as a song of love. God does not come to you as an angry king to overthrow your life and beat you into submission. He comes in love, gently, to demonstrate to you how life can once again be full of love.

Some of you here this morning, even though you've been in church all of your life, have never really opened up your heart and life to God because you're afraid you'll get what you expect. You're afraid you'll get a God who will crush you and condemn you and make your life miserable. It's not particularly surprising to me that you think that. A lot of people do.

Later on in this Gospel, chapter 18, Jesus tells a parable about a woman who continually comes to a judge (representing God) and asks a favor over and over again. She begs and pleads with him. And finally the judge throws up his hands in disgust and says, "I could really care less about this woman and her request but she's wearing me out with her constant pleading, so I'll give her what she wants, just to get her off my case."

And Jesus, in effect, says to his disciples: "See, that's what you think God is like. You think he is against you. You think he only gives in to your requests out of disgust and weariness. But the truth is, God is not like that. He is anxious to bless you and give you what you really need, if you'll receive his love openly."

What this little baby of Christmas proves to you is this: if you'll receive him, God will not crush you. He will not condemn you. He will not make your life miserable. He wants you to experience his unconditional love, the kind a baby gives. He wants you to experience his acceptance, the kind a baby gives. He wants to forgive you and heal you and place his spirit within you so that you can experience joy and peace in life that you never dreamed was possible.

God wanted so much for you to understand that, he risked coming to this world as a vulnerable, helpless baby. He entrusted his only begotten Son to the very creatures he wanted to save.

My call to you as we approach Christmas is this: Respond to God as you would respond to a baby. Don't hold him at arms length and push him away. Don't be afraid of him. Embrace him. Receive him. Welcome him. And let him fill you with a song of love.