Day 2784– The Nativity Revisited – Luke 2:1-20

Putnam Church Message – 12/21/2025

Last week, we had our service online due to the weather, and we continued our year-long study of Luke’s Narrative of the Good News in a message titled: “The Prophet of the Most High.” Joy to the World

This week is the Fourth Sunday of Advent, which is Love, as we continue to build anticipation of the coming Messiah. Today's passage is the story of: “The Nativity Revisited – Love Came Down”- Our Core verses for this week will be Luke 2:1-20, found on page 1590 of your Pew Bibles.

and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

 

Well-chosen gifts bring great joy.

Anniversary gifts whisper, “I still choose you.”

Farewell gifts soften the pain of parting.

Christmas gifts bring warmth and laughter into cold, gray days.

But there is nothing quite like a surprise gift—an unexpected expression of love on an ordinary day.

Scripture tells us that God is the premier gift-giver. He delights in surprising His children:

James reminds us: “Every good thing given, and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.” (James 1:17, NLT)

But no gift compares to the one God gave the world in a small village outside Jerusalem more than two thousand years ago.

A baby— tiny, helpless, wrapped in cloths— yet utterly unique. Fully God.  Fully human. Love in flesh and bone.

The apostle Paul wrote, “Thank God for this gift[a] too wonderful for words!” (2 Corinthians 9:15).

Luke,/ guided by the Holy Spirit, /set out to describe the indescribable. This morning, we revisit the Nativity—not to sentimentalize it, but to rediscover this truth: Love did not shout from heaven. Love came down.

Luke anchors the birth of Jesus firmly in real history:

At that time the Roman emperor, Augustus, decreed that a census should be taken throughout the Roman Empire. (Luke 2:1)

Luke does this intentionally. He does not begin with shepherds or angels or stables. He begins with Caesar Augustus, the most powerful man in the known world.

Augustus believed he ruled history. Luke shows us he was merely a pawn in God’s plan.

A decree issued 1,500 miles away forced Joseph and Mary to travel—exactly where prophecy said the Messiah would be born:

“But you, O Bethlehem… from you shall come a ruler… whose origins are from eternity.” (Micah 5:2)

Love didn’t arrive accidentally. Love arrived intentionally.

Ancient Perspective: To first-century Jews, Rome symbolized oppression, fear, and humiliation. The census meant taxation, control, and a reminder of subjugation. Yet God used imperial power to fulfill divine promise.

We often believe love comes only when circumstances are ideal. God shows us love enters through messy circumstances.

We also live in a world shaped by forces beyond our control:

We are tempted to believe that history is driven by power, money, and ambition. Luke reminds us: God still writes His story through circumstances that seem unrelated—or even hostile—to His purposes. Love enters not when conditions are ideal, but when they are real.

Hold up a map. Point to Rome

“Rome thought it controlled the world. But God used a Roman decree to fulfill a Hebrew prophecy.”  “From Rome, this looks insignificant. From heaven, this is the center of the story.”

Point to Bethlehem. “Love entered history—not fantasy, not myth, but real places, real people, real pain.”

Love did not hover above humanity. Love stepped into history, into politics, into hardship. God’s love is not abstract—it is incarnational. Love entered history deliberately. God was not reacting—He was fulfilling. The Nativity assures us that even when the world feels out of control, Love is still moving toward us.

Joseph and Mary traveled nearly 90 miles—on foot or by animal—through rugged terrain. Mary was near full term. The journey alone was dangerous. Luke writes:  And while they were there, the time came for her baby to be born.  She gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him snugly in strips of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no lodging available for them. (Luke 2:6-7)

Not an inn as we imagine it—but no suitable lodging. No family, no friends, no inns. Just a: A feeding trough. An animal stall. Possibly a cave.

The King of Kings arrived with no palace, no cradle, no celebration.

Hospitality was sacred in ancient Jewish culture. The fact that Mary gave birth in an animal space was not necessarily cruel—it was circumstance.

The Greek word Katayama does not mean “hotel.” It means “lodging.” There was no suitable place available.

So, Mary laid her child in a feeding trough.

For ancient readers, this was shocking:

But God’s Son entered among animals. This was not an accident. It was theology.

Love does not grasp at privilege. Love descends.

Paul later explains: “ Though he was God,   he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to.  Instead, he gave up his divine privileges[b]; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form,  he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:6–8)

The manger tells us something essential about God: He is not embarrassed by our poverty. He is not offended by our weakness. He does not wait for us to clean ourselves up.

Think of someone who chooses to step down to lift others up:

That is love—not because it must, but because it chooses.

Hold up a wooden box or manger.

Say: “This is not decorative. This is not symbolic. This is where Love rested.”

Then add: “If Love can come here, Love can come into our mess, our failure, our uncertainty.”

Love came down—not to impress us, but to reach us.

The manger reminds us that no life is too small, and no place is too broken for God’s love.

The angels did not go to Caesar. They did not go to Herod. They did not go to priests.

Shepherds lived outdoors. They smelled like animals. They missed religious festivals. They were often viewed with suspicion.

Yet Scripture often associates shepherds with God’s care:

By choosing shepherds, God was reclaiming a biblical image: The Shepherd had come for His sheep.

The angel declared: “I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people.” (Luke 2:10)

This was royal language. Good news. A Savior. A King. Yet the audience was humble.

God revealed His love first to those most likely to receive it. Those who knew they needed saving.

God still often speaks first to:

Love is not impressed by status—it is attracted to openness. Love finds open hearts, not impressive résumés.

Turn on a flashlight in dim light.

Say: “Light shines brightest in darkness. Love is most clearly seen where it is most desperately needed.”

Love announces hope to the weary.

Love invites everyone—but is first received by those who know their need.

The shepherds did not debate. They did not delay.  “Let’s go to Bethlehem! Let’s see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” (Luke 2:15) The shepherds responded immediately. They went.  They saw. They shared. Mary treasured. The shepherds testified. Love invites movement.

In Scripture, encounters with God demand response:

No one receives a life-saving diagnosis and says, “That’s interesting,” and walks away unchanged. Love calls us to act. Love is not meant to be admired from a distance. No one encounters grace and stays neutral.

Hold hands open.  “Love must be received. Love must be shared.”

Love does not end just in admiration.  Love moves us—to worship, to witness, to wonder, to obedience.

Love came down - into history, into humility, to the lowly, inviting response. This is not just a Christmas story. It is a declaration:

 

Before we leave Bethlehem, Luke wants us to notice something: the story doesn’t end with angels, shepherds, and a manger. The story ends with responses. That’s where Advent love becomes more than a theme—it becomes a way of living.

So let me give you three takeaways—three ways this story presses into our lives now.

Luke begins with Caesar Augustus and a decree. That’s not just history. That’s Luke telling us, “Don’t miss the point: the most powerful man on earth wasn’t actually the author of the story.”

“When we were utterly helpless, Christ came at just the right time and died for us sinners. (Romans 5:6)

“And we know that God causes everything to work together[a] for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.” (Romans 8:28)

Story Illustration Let me tell you what this looks like in modern life, and maybe you can related it. Let’s say there is a man in our community—call him Tom—who walked into a season of life that felt like a cascade of decisions made by other people. First, the company he’d worked for 20 years was bought out. He told his wife, “It’s okay. I’ve survived change before.”

Then the new management came in, and the tone shifted. Suddenly, the job wasn’t just a job—it was a weekly anxiety test.

He came home one night, set his keys down hard on the counter, and said,

His wife—quiet, steady—looked at him and said, “Then let’s do what we always do. Let’s pray before we panic.” So they prayed. Not fancy. Not dramatic. More like a breath than a speech. “Lord, we don’t understand this, but we belong to You.”

Weeks later, a friend called out of the blue: “Hey, I heard you might be looking. Would you consider coming to work with us?” Tom said, “I didn’t even apply anywhere.”

His friend said, “I know. But your name came up. We’ve been looking for someone like you.” And Tom later said: “I didn’t feel like I found that job. I felt like God placed it.”

Now, I want to be careful: not every story resolves that quickly. Sometimes God’s providence is more evident in hindsight than in the moment. But Luke is insisting we learn this spiritual skill: we don’t interpret God’s love based on our sense of control.

If God can use a pagan emperor’s paperwork to fulfill prophecy and position the Savior of the world in the exact town God promised centuries earlier, then He is not confused by our calendar, our delays, our detours, our disruptions.

Some of us are living in the “decree” part of the story right now. You didn’t ask for it:

And you might be thinking, “If God loves me, why does it feel like other people or situations are steering my life?”

Bethlehem answers: Love is not absent when life is inconvenient. Love is often most active when life is disrupted.