Luke 2:8-20
Shepherds as evangelist? It was a job for which they had no training, no special calling, no organization backing them, and no tracts to leave behind when they left.
The one thing they possessed, it was all they had, a divine encounter.
They lived in an a camp outside Bethlehem. A shunned group because of their profession, were not allowed to observe the orthodox ritual of washings, so they were considered unclean. Because they were not taught in the Law, they were considered ignorant, and with know ties to the community, considered suspect.
This knot of shepherds on the fringe of Jewish society spends the night atop a stone tower, a couple of them watching the flocks while the others are huddled around a fire, catching what sleep they can. Eusebius writes that this watch tower stood about a thousand paces from Bethlehem. Jewish tradition adds that the tower overlooked a special flock of sheep.
Sheep set aside for sacrifices.
To qualify as temple sacrifices, the animals had to be perfect without spot or blemish. They could have no broken bones and no scarred skin. One fall into a ravine, one encounter with a predator, rendered the sheep unfit for the altar, dropping it's premium as a sacrifice to the price of mere commodities----the going rate for wool, leather, and meat. To ensure a profit, the sheep had to be protected. That meant watching them day and night.
This night, as the temperature drops, the men take refuge in the warmth of their sheepskin coats. Above them, the night is clear. The moon full and bright. The sky is studded with stars. and the air, pungent with the scent of sheep. Except for a few faraway bleats, the hillside is quiet. The fire is also quiet, the popping yellow blaze now whispering orangely among the embers. On top of the tower all that can be heard is an occasional crackle of conversation.
The fire is almost out when suddenly the curtain of night is parted by an angel, spilling glory of heaven everywhere. the incandescent light wakens the men who are on their face, trembling, covering themselves with their coats.
The appearance of the angel is terrifying, the utterance of his words are not. "Don't be afraid," he assures them, "I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people."
From within their coats their eyes steal a glance. The angel smile, softening the lines on their squinted faces. "Today in the town of David a Savior has been born unto you; he is Christ the Lord."
The shepherds could hardly believe their ears. Adjusting to the light, their eyes study the angel's face. And as if anticipating their question, the angel tells them how they will recognize this Savior: "You will find a baby wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a manger."
The curtain of heaven opens wider, revealing a company of angels, their voices joining together in a chorus of praise:
"Glory to God in the highest
and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."
The final syllables skip across the fields in such enchanted echoes that the shepherds rise to their feet as if to chase after them, as if to round them up and bring them back to the fold. But the echoes are already over the hills, trailing off to silence. And the choir steps back to heaven, drawing the curtain behind them.
On these earthiest of men the favor of heaven has come to rest. To them, the glory of the Lord has been revealed, glory that had not been witnessed in Israel for hundreds of years. To them, the good news, hidden since the foundation of the world, has been proclaimed.
Who would ever have considered the birth announcement of God's son to be sent to them? To them, the unclean. To them, the ignorant. To them the suspect.
The shepherds stumble down the stairway , falling over each other, and run to Bethlehem, searching stable after stable. At last they find the one where a child has been born.
As they enter, the walls of the stable are awash with shadows. The eyes of the shepherds, awash with awe. There He is just as the angel said. Wrapped in strips of cloth.Lying in a manger. And lying there amid the straw, with cloths so tightly around Him, He looks to them like a new born lamb.
So fitting that news of the lamb of God's birth would come to shepherds. And that the reception would be hosted in a stable. A place crowded with faces most familiar to them, the faces of animals. A place where the look of their clothes and the smell of their flocks blended in. A dimly lit place, where out of place people would feel most welcome.
That night the shepherds had gone from the most exalted of heavenly sights to the most humble of earthly ones. From a dramatically lit sky to a dimly lit stable. From a choir of angels to a chorus of animals. From an articulate revelation to an inarticulate one.
A revelation so softly spoken they had to stoop and enter a stable to hear it. Listen. Can you hear it?
A Savior has been born. Heir to the glory the shepherds saw. Yet His only gold is that lent him by the straw. His only silver, borrowed from the moon. His only jewels, the leftover light of the stars.
He lies there so meekly. Cradled in the most unexpected places. Coming to us in the weakest of ways. Waiting for us to come, yet willing for us not to. Waiting for us not to. Waiting for us to see, yet willing for us to turn away. Waiting for us to worship Him, yet willing for us to renounce Him.
He is Christ the Lord. Yet he has placed himself at the mercy of His creation. At the mercy of a census to determine where He would be born. At the mercy of strangers to take Him in. At the mercy of animals to warm Him. At the mercy of mortals to feed Him, to protect Him, to raise Him. Forever at our mercy. To betray Him, beat Him with our fists, impale Him on a cross.
Yet even there He comes to us. Cradled in the most unexpected of places. Coming to us in the weakest of ways. His body once again against the wood. Lying there.
Waiting
Excerpt from: Intimate Moments with the Savior by Ken Gire
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