Wilderness Wanderings

Note: We are going to continue plodding along through Luke's Gospel, right up through Jesus' passion in the season of Lent. So from Christmas to Easter, we will have completed the reading of a Gospel together. Continue to join us for it. But for now: today's text…

On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child, he was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before he was conceived. When the time came for the purification rites required by the Law of Moses, Joseph and Mary took him to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the Law of the Lord, "Every firstborn male is to be consecrated to the Lord"), and to offer a sacrifice in keeping with what is said in the Law of the Lord: "a pair of doves or two young pigeons." … When Joseph and Mary had done everything required by the Law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee to their own town of Nazareth. And the child grew and became strong; he was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was on him. (Luke 2:21-24, 39-40)

Luke goes from the stories of Jesus' birth into an extended set of stories about Jesus, Mary, and Joseph at the temple. A lot of legalese frames these stories, which is Luke's way of saying that Mary and Joseph were among the righteous of Israel. They did everything right, quite literally by the book: by the "law of the Lord."

In Jesus' later scuffles with the religious authorities, no one could turn back and blame it on a heretical upbringing. Jesus was an insider to the Jewish faith and people, thoroughly—trained up in obedience to the ways and rituals of the Temple, Law, and Synagogue. As Paul would later say to the Philippians, so could Jesus: "circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of [Judah], a Hebrew of Hebrews… as for righteousness based on the law, faultless" (Philippians 3:5-6).

This was a revelation that not everyone had the eyes to see and the ears to hear at that time, however. Joseph and Mary were portrayed not overtly, but still quite certainly as outcasts of Israel in the opening verses of this chapter. There was no room for such a sinful, living-together, pregnancy-out-of-wedlock couple as them in the little town of Bethlehem.

But then the story shifts. The unclean, cast-out shepherds are singled out and brought to the centre of Israel's life as messengers of the Gospel who would proclaiming the Messiah's birth. And then the curtain comes up on Mary and Joseph too as they are also revealed to be, not outcasts, but Hebrews of Hebrews—the very epicentre of righteousness, obedience, and attentiveness to God in the life of Israel. They had the eyes to see the angels, the ears to hear God's message, and the righteous obedience to follow through and enact the Word of the Lord from both the law and the angel's message.

On the 8th day, in faithfulness to the law, these supposed outcasts had their child circumcised, naming him Jesus in faithfulness to the word of the Angel. What a supple faith and obedience that was both open to and able to integrate these various Words from the Lord, both old and new, in a living, active obedience.

And they would continue to do so. When the time came for purification after birth, they approached the house of God where there was room enough for them, purified themselves, and consecrated their child to the Lord. There's a provision in the law that allows families to "redeem" their child from this consecration to the Lord, but Mary and Joseph didn't do that. Jesus would belong to the Lord. Again, a supple faith that integrated the reality of God's new revelation within the contours of Israel's ancient faith. The wisdom and grace of God was with Jesus as he grew and became strong.

Today we often think that to find our ways into more true or authentic forms of faithfulness to God, we need to abandon the old ways of the church with its boring, stodgy, firm-set rituals. But that is not the Biblical picture. In the telling of the Gospels, these new works and words of God come from the heart of faithful obedience and participation at the centre of the life of faith represented in the Temple worship. Jesus is an insider from first to last. He does not reject the temple, its leaders, or its rituals, but speaks authoritatively from them, to them. Eventually it is the leaders who will reject Jesus, but not the other way round.

God continues to invite our faithfulness within the church, not outside of it. No matter how disingenuous, disheartening, or dishevelled the place may be: it is still the context within which God chooses to work and invite our work, where he chooses to speak and invites our response.

A special, extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Revelation 19 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

• What is the book of Revelation about?
• Compare and contrast the wreckage and salvation.
• In what two ways does the meal keep us grounded in salvation.
• Why is the vision of war necessary?
• What does the war vision call us to see and do?

A special, Christmas edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Matthew 1:18-23 from the New International Version of the Bible.

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, 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. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told. On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child, he was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before he was conceived. (Luke 2:16-21)

The heavenly messenger angels come to the shepherds, but then the shepherds become the messengers. Would Mary and Joseph have known there were angels blazing forth in glorious praise of their son out in the dark hill country of Judea? No. But the shepherds told them. Would the people of Bethlehem and the surrounding country have known about the angel visit or the baby born as heir of David, the Lord Messiah and Sviour of them all? No. But the shepherds told them.

God sent angels to the lowliest of the low. The unclean ones who, up until that point, were unable to be part of the people of God. Unable to visit the temple. Unable to receive forgiveness. Unable to celebrate and sing with the festive throng.

But all of a sudden, the shepherds were at the very heart of things. They had a place, a purpose in the story and salvation of God: they were, in fact, the only ones who got to be part of the festive song! And as the angels told them, so they saw and believed: this saviour, this sacrificial lamb without blemish, wrapped in cloths in their manger was for them. Born to them. The Messiah was given to them! Forgiveness, salvation, and the kingdom of God had come to them! What a blessing!

Unlike the world that excluded them, they excluded no one as they burst out to spread the good news of great joy for all the people. And all those people were amazed. Amazed at the news and probably a little amazed at the messengers too.

In Luke's gospel there's no Magi from the East carrying gifts fit for a King. The only treasure is the gift the shepherds brought: a message of angels, a response of joy. These were the things Mary treasured up in her heart and pondered.

As the shepherds return, they glorify and praise God for what they had seen and heard, which were just as they had been told. If you remember back to last Sunday's sermon on 1 Samuel 3—isn't it striking that the word of the Lord came through angels to those with the eyes to see and the ears to hear?

No one in the little town of Bethlehem had room in their busy and reputable lives to offer costly hospitality to social outcasts, but the shepherds did. Perhaps no one in the little town of Bethlehem were looking or listening for God either, but the shepherds were. Their eyes were open and they saw angels and the saviour of the world right there in their own little manger! Their ears were open and they heard the good news proclaimed to them!

It's just these sorts of folks with open eyes and open ears who God speaks to and sends out into the rest of the world with the treasures of his good news. Today and tomorrow—Christmas day and eve—may your eyes and ears also be open and attentive to the glorious treasures of Jesus Christ, your Lord and Saviour!

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests." When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about" (Luke 2:13-15).

As Luke tells us the story of Christ's birth, many of the details may be lost to us. The story Pastor Anthony told us yesterday fits within the ancient near eastern context. But we have westernized the story so much that we miss such possibilities. Let's talk about mangers today. In our imaginations, they are made of wood and filled with straw. It's very unlikely that this is what Luke had in mind.

They're feeding troughs, of course. But in ancient Israel, they were made of stone. Not super-comfortable, but a safe place.

It's said that there were special herds of sheep being raised on the hills around Bethlehem. From these herds, the priests would select the lambs used for the sacrifices in Jerusalem. They would find the lambs that were perfect, without blemish, that were suitable for the blood sacrifice which was offered twice a day to cover Israel's sin.

But once the lambs were selected, they needed to be kept from getting bruised or bumped. It is said that the priests would wrap them up tightly. They'd swaddle them, wrapping them in cloths, like precious and terribly fragile bottles of wine. And they'd lay them in a manger.

Is this why the angel said that a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in manage would be a sign to the shepherds? Was Jesus' first resting place already an indication of his destiny? Was his manger a sign that he would be the final sacrifice as the Bible says, "For by one sacrifice he has made perfect forever those who are being made holy" (Hebrews 10:14).

This fits with the angel's announcement that he is bringing news of great joy, "a Saviour has been born, the Messiah, the Lord" (Luke 2:12). And there is more. The life of a shepherd was such that it was impossible for them to observe the Jewish ceremonial laws and temple rituals. They were considered religiously unclean and unacceptable. They raised the lambs for sacrifice but were unable to benefit from these offerings. They never heard the priest declare, "Your sins are forgiven."

It is to them that the angel says, "To you a Saviour has been born."

Like Matthew, Luke weaves the cross into the story of Jesus' birth. There is nothing sentimental about Christmas. Heaven is invading earth. It's a clash of kingdoms. Its war, as Revelation details. But its not war as we humans make it. Jesus is born to die. He will offer himself as the final sacrifice. He himself says to us, "Your sins are forgiven."

In response to this declaration, the heavenly messenger is joined by a great heavenly army praising God. How else can we respond to the declaration that our Saviour is here? Any true Christmas celebration causes the worship of God. With the invading heavenly army we sing, "Glory to God in the highest."

Someone once wrote, "Most middle class tend to worship their work, to work at their play and to play at their worship. As a result, their meanings and values are distorted. Their relationships disintegrate faster than they can keep them in repair, and their lifestyles resemble a cast of characters in search of a plot."

Christmas, as Luke tells the story, sets things in the right order. Christmas is about salvation, about making all things new. In response to what God is doing, worship becomes primary. When Christmas is about redemption, we can sing with the heavenly army, "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests."

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 that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, 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)

There is another take on the housing crisis in Bethlehem than just the standard "no room in the inn" line. Well there are actually a few, but one of them involves the hospitality of shepherds and is drawn from these verses. So I'll tell you that one. It goes like this…

The reason there was no room for Joseph and Mary had nothing to do with how many rooms were actually available: it was solely about the social scandal that was Mary's pregnancy. What self-respecting Jewish family would take in this man with the knocked-up girlfriend? As Mary began to show it became unavoidably clear: Joseph and Mary were actively living in sin. And sexual sin at that: the worst kind. They were obviously unrighteous—unfit for inclusion in the people of God. So they were excommunicated, shunned. There would be no guest room available for the likes of them in Bethlehem.

But there are always others shunned from society. Like the poor. The homeless and the nomads. The immigrants. The ones who can't keep it all together. The ones who are dirty and unclean, like shepherds.

This is where Joseph and Mary would find refuge: in the hospitality of their fellow outcasts.

Verse 8 gives the reason. Shepherds don't put their flocks out by night. That's when the wolfs and the lions are out. Predators can pick off weak and defenceless sheep in the dark like berries off a bush. How are you going to aim your sling if you can't see the danger? You might as well give your flock away.

But what if the shepherds had given up the cave where their sheep were penned this night because they still had the dignity to offer a costly hospitality to a young couple in need? The towns folk of Bethlehem weren't willing to risk their reputation on these outcasts, but the reputation-less shepherds risked much more: their very livelihood. These humble outsiders were willing to humble themselves for the sake of a neighbour in need, and for that reason God exalted them to the highest place on the visit list to see his new baby boy. Sounds a bit like the reversals of Mary's song, doesn't it?

Out came the angels trumpeting the good news! And the glory of the Lord lit up the dark fields to reveal flocks still bedded down peacefully that night. The shepherds knew just where to find this baby wrapped in cloths: he'd be lying in their very own manger. They who had saved Joseph and Mary from their outcast predicament would be the first to hear the good news of a Saviour come to redeem all the unrighteous outcasts like them. Great joy indeed.

Now is that actually how it happened? Truth is, we don't really know: Luke doesn't really flesh it out that clearly. But it's worth pondering, I think. And it brings to mind this verse from the book of Hebrews: "Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it" (13:2). Some perhaps, in showing hospitality to sinners and outcasts, have even shown hospitality to God.

He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them (Luke 2:5-7).

Theologian Stanley Hauerwas was once asked what he thought was the greatest threat to American Christianity. His answer was surprising. It wasn't atheism, radical Islam, civil religion, or consumerism. No, Hauerwas stated that what threatens to undo American Christianity is sentimentality.

Rather than actively engaging with the grit and grime of the world, sentimentality longs for a life in a world illuminated by a soft, flattering light, where no one cusses and where every conflict is neatly resolved. It's safe for the whole family. It never disrupts, never demands, never makes us question. Sentimentality thrives on comfort and making us feel good.

Luke will have none of that. As Pastor Anthony said yesterday, because the emperor in Rome wanted a census taken for taxation purposes, Joseph and Mary headed off to Bethlehem. When they finally arrived, there was no room for them, so Mary's baby was born without an address. Jesus began his fleshly life among the animals because humans had no place for him. Nothing sentimental about that.

The Christmas story raises a central question of the gospel. John the Baptist put it this way, "Are you the one?" (cf. Matthew 11:3). How can this be the saviour of the world? How can someone born in such conditions be Israel's Lord? The supreme ruler of the universe lays in a feed trough. What kind of beginning is this? Philippians 2 tells us that this humble birth was only the beginning of his humiliation (5-8).

Jesus embraced the grit and grime of human life. Nothing sentimental. But can we believe that this is the Christ? Jesus never assumed that we would easily come by such faith. When he talked about his second coming, he asked, "Will I find faith on earth?"

If we do believe, does it matter? Yes, says James, "faith without deeds is dead" (James 2:26). What deeds accompany faith? "Feeding the hungry and clothing the naked" (2:15-17). Paul concurs, "The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love" (Galatians 5:6). Loving amidst the grit and grime of life on earth, Christianity refuses sentimentality.

The gospels tell us that with Jesus, the kingdom of God arrived on earth. For us, kingdoms are associated with power people and fancy palaces. But not the kingdom of Jesus. It still advances on this earth through the small acts of love and kindness. His kingdom is still difficult to find, to see. This fits with the famous definition of faith, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1).

This understanding of faith presses us on towards the end of history. Jesus summarized it this way, "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End" (Revelation 22:13). The universe with its billions of galaxies glittering with stars, he brought into existence. Our Lord created all things visible and invisible; in him and through him and for him all things were made (Colossians 1:16). He is the consummation and end of all things. When the curtain falls on cosmic history, Jesus will be there full of glory as the Omega, the end of all things.

Until that time, Jesus' disciples reject sentimentality. We get into the trenches of the grit and grime of the world with our Lord. The Christmas story is told to underscore that following Jesus is the way of humility, of grit and grime, not sentimentality.

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. (Luke 2:1-4)

Jesus would be born the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. The Royal King who would sit on the throne of David. But first he and his family would be subjects, and not of the Kingdom of God.

The Romans taxed subject peoples. And the way of determining that tax was through a census. That means of course that for non-Roman citizens—mere subjects who would be taxed by their overlords—a census was a fairly unwelcome thing that led to a lot of political tension and unrest, much like the tax itself. It also led to a lot of upheaval as people had to organize themselves according to the dictates of the bureaucracy that intended to count them.

In Joseph and Mary's case, that meant a move to Bethlehem. It didn't matter that Mary was pregnant or about to give birth. It didn't matter whether there was room for them in Bethlehem or not. Nothing personal or humane mattered at all. They were just marginal, inanimate pawns being moved around the chess board by the powerful whims of an emperor leagues away.

And yet, despite that emperor and his whims, God was at work anyway. Even though this subjugation of the Jews by the Romans was unfair and the tax and the means used to assess it were unjust—even though it was impersonal and inhumane—even still, God used it for his purposes. Bent it toward his will.

Everyone knew the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem of the house and line of David. So how did a young girl in Nazareth get the nod to become the mother of the Saviour, and that even before she was technically married to a descendant of David? Well, through the movements of kings and emperors, through the work of righteous men like Joseph and angel messengers, God worked out his plan.

His boy would be born in Bethlehem, sure enough. Joseph had to go there. The emperor had said. He would bring Mary with him and he would adopt her child, making Jesus, born in the town of David, an adopted son of the house and line of David as well. Human impossibilities and corrupt systems bent all together to the will of God who in Jesus would redeem them both.

Today as we watch our lives again be shaped and restricted by forces outside of our control—a viral force of nature and a powerful government—may you remember that God can and does still work through such things. Though forces may be outside of our control, they are never outside of his.

Take heart and hope: for our King of Kings, Jesus of Nazareth was born, not in Nazareth, but in Bethlehem of David. A testament to God's Sovereign ability to knit his work his will through even the strongest forces of our world.

An extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is 1 Samuel 3:1-4:1a from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN QUESTIONS

1. What does it mean to listen for and to the voice of God? What does it means to look for and see his hand at work? What does it mean to respond to him when you do see and hear those things?

2. What are some examples in our churches and world of what happens when we no longer listen and watch for God?

3. What was the situation in Israel? What about in Israel's priesthood? How did sight and hearing play into the core questions at stake?

4. What two opposite interpretations come from the idea of the lamp of the Lord having not yet gone out? Does that give any hope to you in our world today?

5. What was different about Samuel, and what impact did that have?

6. How might you seek to listen and watch for Jesus this week? When you do see his work or hear his voice, how might you respond?

'And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace' (Luke 1:76-79).

His whole life Zechariah had known "the word of the Lord". He had heard it spoken at the table and in the synagogue and at the temple. And he himself had spoken it countless times to God's people as they gathered at the temple, in the synagogue and possibly at his own table. Those same people had sought him out in his home and in the streets to impart to them the wisdom of 'the word of the Lord' so that they could live righteously before the Lord.

And then he was silenced. Nine months.

In that silence, a lifetime of scriptures, prayed until they were lodged in his bones, collided with the new word of God spoken by the angel Gabriel. When Zechariah finally opened his mouth that Word of God tumbled out, filling the air, being heard by family and friends gathered for the name day of his son, the son of his old age. Gathered from various places in the Old Testament, every phrase he uttered familiar, and yet, filled with new meaning.

In those nine months of silence, it was not just Zechariah's home that was being filled with new life. His heart too was being soaked with new life, the dawning of spiritual light. Yes, light. As Zechariah looks at the child in his arms and the swelling of Mary's womb, he recognizes the fulfillment of Isaiah's word from God that 'light was dawning.'

And his son was charged to be the herald of that light. This son of his old age would prepare the way for the Lord. His son would have the privilege of bring the knowledge of salvation. That salvation would come, not by the overthrowing of political tyrants, but by the forgiveness of sins. Light would dawn first in the hearts of women and men and children and youth; they would experience the tender mercy of God in their own hearts. God would shine his light in the darkness of the human heart, and it would be beautiful, every time.

This God-sent king, whom Zechariah's son would announce, rules by being like the morning sun. His way of life and his path to peace is not a matter of coercion or the controlling use of power. It is a matter of character. That is why it begins with the forgiveness of sins, reconciling us with God. Though entry into it takes but a moment, salvation is not a momentary affair. It is a lifelong journey of the heart, a journey guided by our allegiance to the Morning Star, who not only goes before us but shows us that the way to reflect God is to refract his character in ever-growing ways.

For nine months Zechariah was silent. In that silence, he discovered that life is not found in our power or in our ability to "take control." Rather, it in following the one who is in control. Salvation is a matter of the heart and following the one who is the source of light. It is not found in convincing people of their sinfulness, but in pointing them to the light, the Prince of Peace. The only road to righteousness and peace, even for a righteous man like Zechariah, is to be prepared to see the light and follow it.

Among all the lights that decorate our homes and neighbourhoods, we often lose sight of the true light of Christmas. Jesus is not gone, he has not been taken out of Christmas, he is waiting quietly for us to notice him so that he can dawn in our hearts anew and fill us with his light of peace.