Word of Salvation – Vol.41 No.45 – December 1996

 

A Saviour Has Been Born To You

 

A Christmas Sermon by Rev R. M. Brenton on Luke 2:8-20

 

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Way back in the olden days, when my parents were having their children, it was the custom for the expecting father to pace the waiting room floor, nervously biting his nails, while the mother laboured in the delivery room to bring forth the baby.  In those days the father was seen as an obstacle to baby’s birth.  He was unwanted in the delivery room, and so was banished to an eternity of waiting outside.

Father dutifully endured the role of “the waiting one,” because he knew that in the end he would be the first one to officially hear the announcement of baby’s birth.  Typically, right after baby was born a nurse entered the waiting room to say, “Congratulations, Dad.  It’s a girl (or, it’s a boy!).  A baby has been born to you!”  Most fathers – basket cases that they were – willingly endured the long wait in joyful anticipation of that birth announcement.  As a rule, they wanted to be the first to know.

Nowadays all of that has changed.  The nervous father is now mother’s coach in the delivery room.  He coaxes mum through the rhythm of breathing and contractions that go into labour; and if he cooperates with her, it will later be said of him that he was useful, or perhaps even helpful.  Mum might even say that she couldn’t have done it without him.

Fact is, so much has changed that the nurse isn’t needed anymore to give the great birth announcement.  Dad and mum now make the announcement.  We send out to all of our friends and relatives little white cards with baby’s name, birth date, weight, and footprint.  We dads and mums now say to all the world, “Rejoice!  A baby has been born to us.  Come and see.”  And, of course, everyone who sees our baby shares in the awe and wonder of the birth.

Looking back over the baby births in our own family, we recall the joy of realising each time that this baby has been born to us!  This is our baby!  And isn’t our baby wonderful?  He (or she) is all we’ve been waiting for – and more!  We’ve always been surprised with each baby, even though each baby was to be expected.

Imagine that you are not expecting to have a baby.  You are minding your own business – keeping watch over your flock by night – when suddenly you see someone from “heaven knows where” standing before you, and everything around you becomes terrifyingly bright.  That far-out someone then speaks to you.  He says, “a child has been born.  Born to you!  Today in David’s Town a Saviour has been born.  And I’m telling you, he has been born to you!“

This was the original birth announcement for the baby Jesus.  No nurse came up to a nervous Joseph in the Bethlehem Hospital waiting room.  Nor did mother Mary and father Joseph send out little white cards to all their friends and relatives, saying, “Share our joy in the birth of our baby Jesus, born on Christmas Day, 8 pounds 12 ounces.”  No!  None of that!

An angel – a messenger from heaven – came down into the presence of some smelly shepherds who were minding their own business – their flock – in the middle of the night.  And the angel said to them: “A child has been born to you!  You can see for yourselves that he is your baby.  You’ll know the baby is yours when you find him wrapped in swaddling cloths (that’s poor folk baby wear) and lying in a manger (a farm animal feeding trough).  Go there and you’ll see that the baby belongs to you.  Never mind that you weren’t expecting him.  Never mind that you weren’t planning for his birth.  He is here nevertheless.  Born to you.  Your baby!”

Suddenly a choir of angels from heaven burst out in praise, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to the people on whom his favour rests.”

Just as suddenly, all the angels left, and the shepherds were alone once more.  Then they said to one another, “Let us go to Bethlehem and see.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph and the baby, who was lying in the manger.

Listen, my friends.  That going and seeing was an act of faith; an act of responsibility.  The shepherds could have stayed outside – in the waiting room, if you like.  They could have run away from their baby, refusing to take him into their lives.  They might have said to themselves, “We want no part of this child.  A Saviour born in a cattle stall and lying in a feeding trough!  Who wants a saviour like that?  A helpless baby saviour all wrapped up in poverty?  Come, now!  What kind of saviour is that?  And who do they think we are?  A stupid bunch of smelly country bumpkins who’ll believe anything?  Who needs this!?”

The shepherds could have scoffed and laughed off the announcement as though it were some kind of silly joke; they could’ve gotten upset with the messenger for meddling in their business; they could’ve become irritated by that interruption which broke the midnight peace.  They could have turned boisterous and mouthed off to the angel: “Hey!  You, angel!  You gonna strap us with that baby?  You expect us to make time for the little manger baby?  You want us to care for him?  To own him?”

And the angel would have said: “Yes, indeed.  He’s your baby.  Take him on board; into your life.  By all means, make him yours.  Because he’s the Saviour.  One day he’ll take away your sins and set your free.”

But the angel didn’t need to say any more than he had said.  One simple announcement was all it took to open the shepherds’ hearts to Jesus.  That, plus a sign to go by so that they could see their Saviour and adore him.

Someone had to be the first to own up to the baby Saviour.  It just so happened that God gave these shepherds the first chance to let Jesus into their lives.  And guess what?  The shepherds gladly let him in, eagerly owned him, tenderly loved him, and worshipfully adored him.

That’s the way it was on that first Christmas Day, my brothers and sisters.  But this old story – as moving as it is – wouldn’t be ours for the telling were it not for the fact that the shepherds were just as willing to share him as they were to own him for themselves.  “When they had seen him (the story goes], 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.”  What – pray tell – did they say?  Probably this: “A Saviour has been born to you, too!  A Saviour for all the people!  Come, everyone, and see him in Bethlehem’s manger.”

That’s where it all began for this world’s Saviour.  And that’s where we must go if we are to find him.  A lot of people couldn’t be bothered anymore.  Some say that Saviours don’t get born in mangers, but in palaces or in parliament.  Some say that Saviours don’t dress up in swaddling cloths, but in classy vested suits.  Some say that the sign of the Saviour’s coming will be his majesty and might.  “What kind of majesty and might is it that lies in a manger?” people ask.

Well, it’s the kind of majesty that’s all too easily overlooked.  The majesty of the manger is a glorious majesty filled with grace and truth (the Evangelist John tells us).  Grace is God bending low to an utterly impoverished, sinful, misery-stricken human race to forgive us, heal us, and restore us.  Truth is God’s loyalty and fidelity to the people he delights in.  Truth is God’s love which lasts forever – a long-suffering love which will outlive and out love all the failed loves of his people.

In the manger the Lord God brings grace and truth down low so that it touches us where we live.  In the manger the Lord himself becomes like us, his brothers and sisters, in order to save us and help us and sympathise (suffer with us) in this groaning-to-be-made-whole world (see Romans 8).

When the Saviour came down from the heights of heaven, he descended to this world’s lowest depths.  He had to go to these depths to save the likes of us.  Is it any wonder, then, that our Saviour surfaced in the rank humility of a beastly manger?  It was a sign, a pointer toward the way he would be travelling to rescue our fallen, God-forsaken race.

One day the Saviour would stoop to bear the shame of the cross.  One day the Saviour would go down even lower to the grave.  But on this day, Christmas, we begin at the manger.  This is where the sympathy, the compassion, the salvation all begins.  Here at “Humiliation Point” we may see the glory of God’s One and Only, full of grace and truth.

I say to you today, come and see!  A Saviour has been born to you!  Whatever you do, don’t stay outside in the waiting room.  Don’t be put off by the inconvenience of owning up to the Lord Jesus.  Come to the manger.  Not with irritation, but with adoration.  Come, let us adore him.  He is Christ the Lord.

Amen.