Majesty for the Unworthy

The sky is dark.  The land is silent.  For the shepherds it is like any other night.  They watch their flocks as they always do, expecting nothing out of the ordinary.  But tonight is not an ordinary night.  No, something cosmic is underfoot.  God himself in human flesh; the Son of God become son of man.  It happens all so quietly.  A baby born like any other – born in a stable at that.  The moment is passing with the world unaware.

But not for the shepherds.  They are not respected.  They are not important.  They inhabit the lower rungs of the social ladder.  But to these, the lowly, there comes the message.  It is theirs alone to hear.

The messenger is terrifying, an angel in glory, but the message itself is pure grace.  A Savior is born, the Messiah, the Lord!  Then appears the heavenly host.  Something this great cannot go unannounced.  They herald his coming with praise:

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” (Luke 2:14; NIV)

The announcement is made, but why here?  This is not the seat of power.  These are not the lords of the earth.  This is a field.  These are shepherds!  Everything is upside down!

Grace has a way of doing that – turning things upside down.  It visits the unworthy with majesty.  It happened to shepherds on the night of Christ’s birth, and it happens today to people like you and me.  “Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst?” (1 Corinthians 3:16)  How can such a thing be?

In Christ God has visited us.  In Christ he redeems a world gone astray.  The gift is for all who by grace will receive it, and to them is promised an inheritance of glory.  Majesty for the unworthy, indeed!

And grace continues to turn things upside down, for the lowly become messengers of glory.  The shepherds find their sign in a stable and become heralds of the Savior themselves.  Through their lips pass the announcement of angels!  Can we who have also been visited by majesty become anything but the same?

Grace to you this Christmas season.  May you be visited by majesty.

A Christmas Meditation

The scene is more lowly than idyllic. A child has been born and wrapped in cloth. He lies in a manger because no guest room can be found. We’ve heard the story so many times that we can miss the stark backwardness of it all. The Son of God should have come in trappings of greatness. He should have been born to power and ease. Yet he spends the first night of his human life lying in a feeding trough.

There is a scandal of lowliness in the nativity.

But the scandal goes deeper than this. The child is born in low estate, but the true wonder of the nativity is found in the birth itself. The One through whom and for whom all things were made has become a part of his creation. The Infinite has taken on finite existence. The One who sustains all things by his powerful word has become completely dependent on the sustenance of another. God the Son has taken on human flesh and become the Son of man. And on this night and many to follow, he lies helpless and dependent in the frail existence of a newborn child.

There is also a scandal of humanness to be found.

This is the force of the incarnation. The great has become small. The infinite finite. The uncontainable contained. The Apostle Paul put it like this: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.” (2 Cor. 8:9, NIV)

Augustine waxed poetic on the same theme: “He lies in a manger, but contains the world. He feeds at the breast, but also feeds the angels. He is wrapped in swaddling clothes, but vests us with immortality. He found no place in the inn, but makes for Himself a temple in the hearts of believers. In order that weakness might become strong, strength became weak.” (Sermon 190 3, 4)

The rich has become poor. The strong has become weak. And all this that we might become rich and strong through him.

We are used to speaking of the love that led Jesus to the cross.

Perhaps we should also speak of the love that led him to his birth.

In the nativity, God the Son has poured himself out and taken human form, and in this we see the nature of God on display. Jesus, “Who being in very nature God, did not consider his equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.” (Phil. 2:6-7, NIV) It is in the nature of God to pour himself out on behalf of others, and though it is scandalous to us, it is natural to him. Such is the wonder of the God we serve. Such is the splendor of a newborn baby who bears the weight of the world. Such is the beauty of Christmas.

Majesty for the Unworthy

The sky is dark.  The land is silent.  For the shepherds it is like any other night.  They watch their flocks as they always do, expecting nothing out of the ordinary.  But tonight is not an ordinary night.  No, something cosmic is underfoot.  God himself in human flesh; the Son of God become son of man.  It happens all so quietly.  A baby born like any other – born in a stable at that.  The moment is passing with the world unaware.

But not for the shepherds.  They are not respected.  They are not important.  They inhabit the lower rungs of the social ladder.  But to these, the lowly, there comes the message.  It is theirs alone to hear.

The messenger is terrifying, an angel in glory, but the message itself is pure grace.  A Savior is born, the Messiah, the Lord!  Then appears the heavenly host.  Something this great cannot go unannounced.  They herald his coming with praise:

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” (Luke 2:14; NIV)

The announcement is made, but why here?  This is not the seat of power.  These are not the lords of the earth.  This is a field.  These are shepherds!  Everything is upside down!

Grace has a way of doing that – turning things upside down.  It visits the unworthy with majesty.  It happened to shepherds on the night of Christ’s birth, and it happens today to people like you and me.  “Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst?” (1 Corinthians 3:16)  How can such a thing be?

In Christ God has visited us.  In Christ he redeems a world gone astray.  The gift is for all who by grace will receive it, and to them is promised an inheritance of glory.  Majesty for the unworthy, indeed!

And grace continues to turn things upside down, for the lowly become messengers of glory.  The shepherds find their sign in a stable and become heralds of the Savior themselves.  Through their lips pass the message of angels.  Can we who have also been visited by majesty become anything but the same?

Grace to you this Christmas season.  May you be visited by majesty.

A Christmas Meditation

The scene is more lowly than idyllic. A child has been born and wrapped in cloth. He lies in a manger because no guest room can be found. We’ve heard the story so many times that we can miss the stark backwardness of it all. The Son of God should have come in trappings of greatness. He should have been born to power and ease. Yet he spends the first night of his human life lying in a feeding trough.

There is a scandal of lowliness in the nativity.

But the scandal goes deeper than this. The child is born in low estate, but the true wonder of the nativity is found in the birth itself. The One through whom and for whom all things were made has become a part of his creation. The Infinite has taken on finite existence. The One who sustains all things by his powerful word has become completely dependent on the sustenance of another. God the Son has taken on human flesh and become the Son of man. And on this night and many to follow, he lies helpless and dependent in the frail existence of a newborn child.

There is also a scandal of humanness to be found.

This is the force of the incarnation. The great has become small. The infinite finite. The uncontainable contained. The Apostle Paul put it like this: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.” (2 Cor. 8:9, NIV)

Augustine waxed poetic on the same theme: “He lies in a manger, but contains the world. He feeds at the breast, but also feeds the angels. He is wrapped in swaddling clothes, but vests us with immortality. He found no place in the inn, but makes for Himself a temple in the hearts of believers. In order that weakness might become strong, strength became weak.” (Sermon 190 3, 4)

The rich has become poor. The strong has become weak. And all this that we might become rich and strong through him.

We are used to speaking of the love that led Jesus to the cross.

Perhaps we should also speak of the love that led him to his birth.

In the nativity, God the Son has poured himself out and taken human form, and in this we see the nature of God on display. Jesus, “Who being in very nature God, did not consider his equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.” (Phil. 2:6-7, NIV) It is in the nature of God to pour himself out on behalf of others, and though it is scandalous to us, it is natural to him. Such is the wonder of the God we serve. Such is the splendor of a newborn baby who bears the weight of the world. Such is the beauty of Christmas.