Every year, Sunny and Joshua and I have a little pick ’em contest with the NFL playoffs and I keep up with the standings here on the blog. This regular season was as unpredictable as any in recent memory. Who saw the Broncos securing the AFC West division crown, much less the #1 seed in the AFC? Who could’ve predicted that Mike Vrabel and Drake Maye would engineer such an impressive turnaround in New England? (Even if their schedule was daycare.) Who would’ve guessed that Jacksonville — winners of eight in a row — would be the hottest team in the league coming into the playoffs? And that’s just in the AFC alone! The Seattle Seahawks are the clear #1 seed in the NFC, but would anyone be surprised if the Bears knocked them off? Or the Rams? Or the Eagles? Or the 49ers?
There are so many great storylines to follow in these playoffs. With Patrick Mahomes, Lamar Jackson, and Joe Burrow all watching from home, Josh Allen is clearly the best QB in the postseason. This Bills team is certainly flawed, but Allen may never have a better path to a Super Bowl. It will also be interesting to see if the Eagles can find their offensive rhythm again. We’ve seen them do it before and they almost seem too talented to fail. But they’ll have to run the gauntlet to repeat, starting with a tilt against the 49ers. Imagine what Kyle Shannahan could do with a healthy roster. Can Aaron Rodgers add to his Hall of Fame credentials with another postseason run? Does defense still win championships? If so, the Texans, Broncos, Seahawks and Eagles should be feeling really good about their chances. But I don’t know — this Rams team feels special. I have a feeling they might be the team to win it all. Thankfully I don’t have to decide that right now.
Here are our picks for the opening round of the NFL playoffs:
Los Angeles Rams at Carolina Panthers
Jason: Rams. In a blowout.
Joshua: Rams
Sunny: Rams
Green Bay Packers at Chicago Bears
Jason: Bears, although Jordan Love playing has me a bit worried about this selection. He’s gotta be kind of rusty, right? I’m a little surprised all three of us picked the Bears in this one.
Joshua: Bears
Sunny: Bears
Buffalo Bills at Jacksonville Jaguars
Jason: Jaguars, although I hope I’m wrong about this pick. I LOVE watching Josh Allen play. More than any modern QB, he reminds me of John Elway. But I can’t overlook the fact that Sean McDermott is 0-5 in road playoff games. Plus the Jags haven’t lost a game in two months.
Joshua: Bills
Sunny: Bills
San Francisco 49ers at Philadelphia Eagles
Jason: Eagles. I think this could be the best matchup of the entire opening round. I know there are a lot of good coaches in this league, but I am constantly amazed at what Kyle Shannahan has been able to do despite injuries to his roster. In the end, I just think the Philly defense is too good and the offense finds a way.
Joshua: Eagles
Sunny: Eagles
Los Angeles Chargers at New England Patriots
Jason: Chargers. Can’t go chalk the whole way. I think New England is fraudulent.
Joshua: Patriots
Sunny: Chargers
Houston Texans at Pittsburgh Steelers
Jason: Texans. Neither team will put on an offensive clinic, but the Texans defense is just elite.
I was recently reading Luke’s account of the transfiguration of Jesus. And this line really stood out to me:
And as he was praying, the appearance of his face was altered, and his clothing became dazzling white.
Luke 9:29
I’d never noticed that Jesus essentially prays His way into the transfiguration. Peter, James, and John catch a glimpse of the divinity of Jesus: all light and glory and wonder. The disciples marvel as this act of transcendence as the humble Nazarene is revealed as the eternal Son of God. Moses and Elijah, representing the law and the prophets, speak to Jesus of His impending departure — and the Greek word is exodus, the redemptive motif of deliverance from exile. Indeed, Jesus — through His own sacrifice — liberates us from the bondage to sin and leads us toward the great promised land. As soon as He comes down from this mountain, Jesus will set His face toward Jerusalem where all of this will take place. And this moment of transfiguration prefigures the glory of His resurrection. It reveals to the disciples — and to us — His true nature as the Son of God.
All of this is certainly true.
But Jesus is also a human being.
I know that’s a really obvious thing to point out. But I think it matters, especially here. Jesus is the divine Son of God, eternally glorious in every way — but He is also fully human in every way (save one). By taking on flesh, Jesus makes Himself susceptible to hunger and thirst, disease and distress. The self-sufficient Son of God becomes a baby — perhaps the most dependent of all creatures. In the Incarnation, the pre-existent Word of God subjects Himself to the linear movement of time. He even makes Himself susceptible to our fleshly temptations (Hebrews 4:15). The only thing separating us from our Brother is the fact that He never gives in to those sinful urges.
And as a flesh and blood human being, Jesus prays His way into glory.
This is a word of hope for us.
Because as human beings, we can pray our way into glory, too.
Not prayer as a “work,” as something we DO — although we certainly have to be the ones DOING the praying. But when we fixate on our activity in prayer — eyes opened or closed? kneeling or sitting or standing? aloud or silent? — we’ll certainly never experience everlasting transformation. We’ll simply second guess ourselves and wonder if we’re doing it right.
But whenever prayer becomes less about technique and more about God’s faithful presence, prayer becomes a means of communion. And communion is always transformative. I believe this is what God always intended when He led men to “call upon the name of the Lord” (Gen. 4:26) all those centuries ago. Prayer was always more personal, less performative. To meet with God “in the secret” (which is the literal translation of Matthew 6:6) is to enter that interior space, the sanctuary of the heart where the Divine eagerly awaits our arrival. It is to come before the Lord free of pretension, no mask, no agenda. In the words of Theophan the Recluse, “To pray is to descend with the mind into the heart, and there to stand before the face of the Lord, ever-present, all seeing, within you.”
This is prayer in the way of Jesus. When He retreats to solitary places to pray, He enters the hallowed space where Father can say to Son, “You are my Beloved.” This way of praying transcends so many elements of our modern practice: our sermonizing; our breathless recitations of the illnesses of others; our verbalizing “to do” lists for God. Surely there is some degree of petition and intercession on behalf of others in the regular prayer life of Jesus. But my point is that His prayer life was so much MORE than this, too. Prayer is essential to the ministry of Jesus because it is an act of communion — and communion with the Father is the energy source for all human beings. Our deepest longing of all is to hear the Father say, “You are my Beloved.” And this only occurs in the sanctuary of the heart.
And I’m convinced that this way of praying — prayer as communion — is the key to our transformation in the present.
That’s what I mean when I say we can pray our way into glory.
For several months, I have been reading a daily devotional book entitled Becoming Fire: Through the Year with the Desert Fathers and Mothers by Tim Vivian. Each day highlights two or three excerpts from the desert Christians: a teaching, a story, or a parable emanating from the wilderness. Since I picked up this volume back in November, I naturally just started reading along from that date — toward the end of the book.
Yesterday I opened up to the front of the book for the first time. Just before the reading for January 1st, Vivian included a few quotes from other authors — the kind of thing you often find at the beginning of a chapter. Honestly, the quotes Vivian included were fairly forgettable, save for one phrase that caught my attention. One of the authors talked about becoming “a spiritually realized person” and instantly my imagination was engaged. What does it mean to be a spiritually realized person?
I immediately thought about our cultural obsession with self-actualization, the interior quest to become your authentic self by following your heart and pursuing your dreams and being true to yourself — and all of the other nonsensical Disney-fied mantras which are so ubiquitous in the modern age. We unquestionably accept the goodness of this kind of hero quest because it is the basis of some of the most meaningful narratives we consume. And because it makes us feel good. Self-actualization as an ultimate aim is a natural by-product of expressive individualism and its radical centering of the feeling self. (For more on expressive individualism, you need to read Trueman’s excellent book, The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self.)
To my thinking, becoming a spiritually realized person is a departure from the pursuit of self-actualization. Rather than seeking meaning for one’s life based upon one’s desires, the spiritually realized person’s life is shaped by a telos beyond themselves. The spiritually realized person’s identity is received, not discovered. Instead of reveling in self-determination — I am whoever and whatever I decide to be — the spiritually realized person recognizes that one’s “truest self” comes through Holy Spirit regeneration.
Imagine my surprise, then, whenever I began reading my first book for the year, The Reason for Church by Brad Edwards. I think I bought this one a few weeks ago after seeing it highlighted by Christianity Today as one of their top books of 2025. In our era of rapid dechurching, Edwards is seeking to reclaim a robust ecclesiology to speak into the essential nature of the church. And his first chapter is entitled “Spiritual Pragmatism” with the tagline: “How Seeker Sensitivity and Self-Actualization Reduce the Church to a Spiritual Non-Profit” (emphasis added).
I felt like God might be trying to say something to me, so I read with eager anticipation. Here’s what I came across:
Secular self-actualization embraces almost any means of fulfilling one’s potential. What matters most is that you are in the driver’s seat and not some other person, institution, or tradition. . . . Self-actualization is so baked into American culture that it has subtly influenced evangelical approaches to discipleship, making one’s own spiritual growth the telos, or purpose, of the Christian life, instead of the fruit or by-product of following Jesus. Self-actualizing ‘discipleship’ isn’t more than what Scripture calls us to, but less. It reduces the scope of Christian faithfulness to personal spiritual practices like Bible study and prayer.
Edwards, p8.
Edwards parses this out carefully, and for good reason: in our age of self-actualization, we might think that “becoming a spiritually realized person” is just another way of saying that you are maximizing your spiritual growth or “being all you can be” in some spiritual context. But that’s never been the point. The point has always been following Jesus. But without careful nuance, even the discussion of spiritual disciplines — that which God intends as a means of grace — can become one more measuring stick, one more box to check on your spiritual To-Do list. And that, too, misses the point.
Such an approach actually leads to flimsier discipleship. Edwards cites self-actualizing discipleship as a major reason so many people have rejected the institution of church:
What matters most to God is your spiritual growth, that you’re becoming the kind of person you believe he created you to be, and anything that doesn’t support your (self-actualizing) spiritual journey is optional. If, for whatever reason, your church no longer aligns with your values or helps you fulfill your potential, simply find one that does. It’s nothing personal.
Edwards, p19.
When discipleship is framed in terms of self-actualization, even God Himself becomes little more than a sidekick accompanying you on your main character hero quest. When you put it that way, none of this sounds very much like “take up your cross and follow me,” does it?
So what does it really mean to be a spiritually realized person?
I suppose in some ways, I’m still working toward a complete answer. But here’s what I have so far:
It’s about communion with the Triune God who bids you to come to the table of grace.
And it’s about communion with your brothers and sisters in Christ with whom you share the familial bonds of brokenness and shame.
It’s about rejecting the siren song of self-determination and receiving a truth that comes from without rather than within.
It’s about forsaking the cult of spiritual striving to simply rest in the finished work of Christ.
It’s about Sabbath — for our bodies, to be sure; but also for our weary souls and our heavy-laden hearts.
It’s about experiencing unshakeable peace, no matter what life throws at you.
It’s about descending into the sanctuary of the heart to hear Him say, “You are my beloved!”
Maybe it’s about more than that, I don’t know.
But I know it’s not about anything LESS than that.
And on the cusp of a new year, as 2026 stands before us as a blank slate, I can’t think of a better resolution or controlling idea than this one: over the next twelve months, may I become a more spiritually realized person.
Music is a mnemonic device for me. Certain songs immediately take me back to my childhood or when Sunny and I started dating or when the kids were born. I think that’s why I like new music so much; it often serves as the backing soundtrack for that particular year.
This year, I didn’t find as much new music that really captivated my imagination. Some years, I have a hard time paring down the list; this year, it was pretty much a two-horse race. 2025 will go down as the year I fell in love with the music of Beirut. And I’ll also remember it for Bon Iver’s most recent (and final?) masterpiece.
Best Albums of 2025
Bon Iver, SABLE, fABLE
Beirut, A Study of Losses
Sam Fender, People Watching
Amble, Reverie
Scott Ballew, Paradiso
Bon Iver’s SABLE, fABLE
The Triumph of Bon Iver
I’ve been a Bon Iver fan for a long time, but not from the very beginning. When he burst onto the scene in the late aughts with a sparse, acoustic heartbreak album recorded in a Wisconsin cabin, I didn’t jump on the hype train along with everyone else. I didn’t really become a fan until 2011’s self-titled release — and “Holocene,” in particular. But Justin Vernon’s project remains the most consistently excellent band in all the land. Everything they record is just incredible.
I didn’t know what to make with last fall’s surprise EP consisting of only three songs. SABLE had that same stripped-back vibe and dark tone as For Emma: “I would like the feeling gone.” “How am I supposed to do this now?” “I know now that I can’t make good.” The guy was seriously grieving something, that much was evident.
But SABLE’s fall release was just an initial launch — and a bit of a setup, too. It’s no accident that Vernon waited until spring to release the second part of the record: fABLE, with its explosion of joyful sounds and color. And there it was, teased out all along in the lines of “AWARDS SEASON”: “You can be remade / You can live again / What was pain now’s gained / A new path gets laid.”
That new path was toward something warmer, lighter, more joyful. Disc One recalls the past, keeping the attention on Vernon’s baritone vocals with little accompanying instrumentation. This is clearly a signal that we’re starting in our own head — ruminating on loss and regret. But Disc Two of the album is like Dorothy opening up the door to step into a world of color. The tone immediately becomes lighter — “radiant pop” in the words of one reviewer. And Bon Iver kind of throws the kitchen sink at you: R&B, funk, gospel….it’s all here. There’s also very little of the auto-tune of previous albums; Vernon’s register is more immediate and soulful and he surrounds his voice with a variety of collaborators (Danielle Haim, Dijon, Jacob Collier, Jenn Wasner), giving the record an important sense of community.
For most of 2025, I’ve been pursuing a deeper sense of joy — as I make my way through “mid-life,” this seems more essential than ever before. And this record has been a meaningful part of that search for me. Vernon has said that this record is an intentional departure from “the guy in a cabin” persona, the primary black of SABLE giving way to the salmon pink of the whole record. This shift represents a shift away from mourning in order to step into the light of healing. “Everything Is Peaceful Love” signals this shift; the song is absolutely rapturous. Same for “From” and “Day One,” two of the standout tracks from the second half of the album. “There’s a Rhythm” talks about finding a land of palm and gold to replace the snowier terrain of the past. In a way, this is the sound of an artist breaking up with his former self. Bon Iver no longer has to play the “sad guy” — and I’m there for it.
An Album for a Circus based on a Book
I’ll admit: I had a really hard time choosing between these two records for my Album of the Year. Beirut is the brain child of Zach Condon; although there are other players involved, Beirut is essentially a one-man band. Back in the spring, I got on a kick of listening to Beirut’s back catalog and I kept it on constant repeat throughout the month of March. In April, Condon released A Study of Losses, an album of new music he recorded as the soundtrack to a circus which is based on Judith Schalansky’s book “An Inventory of Losses.” If that sounds bonkers, it’s because it is. Victoria Dalborg, the director of the Swedish circus Kompani Giraff, approached Condon about creating a soundtrack for the acrobatic stage show. The inspiration for all of this was Schalansky’s book about things that have disappeared from our world: art, extinct animals, sunken islands, etc. Condon was intrigued by the idea and went to work reading the book and writing and composing these 18 tracks for a new album.
Even if you don’t know the backstory, the music is undeniably beautiful. Songs like “Moon Voyager” and “Tunaki Atoll” and “Villa Sacchetti” will be in heavy rotation for me for years to come. And I have a feeling if I ever go back and re-evaluate my Album of the Year winner for 2025, it will be due to the fact that this album continued to capture my heart.
The Oasis Farewell Tour (maybe)
I also spent a good deal of time listening to Oasis in anticipation of seeing them on their North American tour. After years of estrangement, brothers Liam and Noel Gallagher were able to patch up their differences long enough to tour the world in celebration of the 30th anniversary of their landmark album What’s the Story, Morning Glory? Seeing them live in Chicago was a “bucket list” moment for me and I’ve enjoyed replaying their best songs throughout the year.
Each year I set a goal of reading 52 books — one per week. I think it’s a pretty ambitious goal and most years I fall short. But by the time I finish up my current read, I’ll be at 56 books this year. In December, I like to look back and determine which books resonated with me the most. As always, my 2025 year-end list is comprised of mostly non-fiction: lots of books about theology and baseball and prayer and — my most recent obsession — maritime disaster. (Check it out; it’s an actual thing.) If you want to look back over some of the lists from previous years, you can find them here.
[Note: these are books I read this year, not necessarily books which were published in 2025.]
Best Books of 2025:
The Wisdom of the Desert by Thomas Merton
When I look back on 2025, I will remember it as my deep dive into the world of the Desert Fathers. Many of you are probably thinking, “Who are the Desert Fathers?” In the fourth century A.D., as Christianity was being established as the official state religion of the Roman Empire, a growing number of believers fled to the deserts of Egypt, Palestine, and Arabia, abandoning the cities of the pagan world to live in solitude. These men and women are known to us today as the Desert Fathers and Mothers. Their sojourn into the desert was based upon the conviction that this new relationship between church and state was producing a society which was “regarded by them as a shipwreck from which each single individual man had to swim for his life,” (Merton, 3). Skeptical that Christianity and politics could successfully produce a utopian society, these believers retreated to the desert (Greek, eremos). Thus, these came to be known as eremites, or “hermits.” In later years, they also came to be known as “monks,” based on the Greek word monos, which simply means “alone.” The Christian “monk” sets his life on one goal: the submission of his whole being to God by imitating Christ (Peter H. Gorg, The Desert Fathers). Over time, communities of hermits developed in several of these desert locations. These hermits were not scholars but laypeople who simply sought to live obediently to Christ. They practiced solitude and silence, devoting themselves to scripture, prayer, and a simple way of life. But they also practiced generosity and hospitality, sharing resources with one another and passing on valuable spiritual instruction to one another. Some of this wisdom has been recorded and preserved as “The Sayings of the Desert Fathers.” In this concise volume (80 pages), Merton gives a brief historical sketch of the desert movement before offering up what is essentially a “greatest hits” compendium of desert teaching. These writings have been a tremendous aid to my prayer life while also challenging me to practice silence and solitude more regularly. Many of these stories and sayings have made their way off the page and into my heart. I only wish I had been exposed to this wisdom earlier in my life. I highly recommend this work to anyone who wishes to grow their prayer life.
The Desert Fathers: Sayings of the Early Christian Monks, translated by Benedicta Ward
After reading Merton’s “greatest hits,” I decided to go back to the original source material to get all of the “deep cuts.” This collection is organized by topic and it includes the stories from Merton’s volume, along with a host of other desert sayings. I’d say try the Merton book on for size before you launch into this unabridged volume. But both are extremely rich and challenging.
The Shape of Joy: The Transformative Power of Moving Beyond Yourself by Richard Beck
This year, I’ve also spent a good deal of time thinking about and pursuing joy. Beck’s latest has been in my Kindle library for several months, but I didn’t read it until very recently. His central thesis is that there is a certain geometry to joy that eludes us as we are increasingly “curved inward” — obsessed with ourselves and our attendant neuroses. In order to pursue joy we must willfully turn away from the self through acts of service and moments of awe. But the science is clear: we don’t arrive at true joy without ultimately moving beyond ourselves into transcendence. Cosmic mattering is essential to our flourishing — which opens us up to the full impact of the gospel. I’ve loved everything Beck has written, but I think this might be my favorite so far. Highly recommend.
Divorce and Remarriage: A Redemptive Theology by Rubel Shelly
In my line of work, I am asked about divorce and remarriage regularly. And usually, the stakes are quite high in those conversations. Shelly’s “redemptive theology” is a welcome addition to my library of pastoral resources on these topics. I certainly appreciate Shelly’s scholarship and his careful treatment of the biblical text. But I’m especially touched by the ministry sensibility with which he writes. Chances are that someone in your circle — a family member, a close friend — has been touched by divorce in one way or another. If you’re following Jesus, I think you’ll appreciate Shelly’s high view of scripture and his compassionate tone. I wish everyone would read this book.
Spiritual Direction: Wisdom for the Long Walk of Faith by Henri Nouwen
Anything by Nouwen is bound to be thoughtful, but this collection of lecture notes, sermons, and journal reflections — compiled posthumously — is rife with wisdom on the practice of spiritual companionship, moving readers away from the notion of a spiritual director as a “guru,” instead presenting them as a “soul friend” willing to listen someone into existence. So much wisdom packed into this volume.
Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage by Alfred Lansing
Written in 1959, Lansing’s account of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s ill-fated Trans-Antarctic Expedition is the definitive work on the subject. Lansing uses interviews from surviving crew members as well as material from their personal diaries to tell a story that kept me on the edge of my seat. This story is simply too incredible to be fiction. You won’t be able to put it down.
All the Colors of the Dark by Chris Whitaker
I don’t read a lot of fiction, but Whitaker’s story has stayed with me since I read it over the summer. Equal parts serial killer thriller, coming-of-age tale, and love story, this sprawling narrative plays out over several decades in the lives of two childhood friends, Patch and Saint. The best piece of fiction I read all year.
The Bully Pulpit: Theodore Roosevelt, William Howard Taft, and the Golden Age of Journalism by Doris Kearns Goodwin
Every year, I read at least one Presidential biography; Doris Kearns Goodwin’s The Bully Pulpit is a double feature, covering the presidencies of Roosevelt and his successor and eventual rival, Taft. Goodwin’s treatment is always thorough and compelling.
Getting High: The Adventures of Oasis by Paulo Hewitt
I read this one in anticipation of catching the Oasis reunion show in Chicago this summer. Hewitt’s work with the band is considered definitive, covering Oasis at their What’s the Story, Morning Glory peak.
The Tao of the Backup Catcher: Playing Baseball for the Love of the Game by Tim Brown with Erik Kratz
I read several baseball books every summer, but this one was my favorite this year. Brown highlights the heroics of the backup catcher, using the story of former MLB catcher Erik Kratz to call attention to the unsung nature of the position.
Guidelines for Prayer by Matthew the Poor
Matthew the Poor was the refounder and the spiritual father of the Monastery of St. Macarius the Great in Egypt. He offers some great wisdom for growing in prayer.
James: A Novel by Percival Everett
Everett reimagines the story of Huckleberry Finn as told from the perspective of Jim, who reclaims his full name “James.” It’s a subversive take on the racial constructs and oppressive systems which shape our identities. Timely in so many ways.
In the Kingdom of Ice: The Grand and Terrible Polar Voyage of the USS Jeannette by Hampton Sides
I fell in love with Sides last year as I read The Wide, Wide Sea, his account of Captain James Cook’s third and final voyage. So I was eager to dive into In the Kingdom of Ice, Sides’s account of Lieutenant George DeLong’s search for the mythical “Open Polar Sea” aboard the USS Jeannette. And this one did not disappoint. This ill-fated journey led to the crew being stuck in Arctic pack ice for nearly two years. What ensues is a white-knuckle survival tale presented by a master storyteller. Read it and you’ll see why I’m a sucker for these “maritime disaster” stories.
Life After Power: Seven Presidents and Their Search for Purpose Beyond the White House by Jared Cohen
Cohen examines seven former Presidents who find various paths toward significance in their post-Presidency years, which Cohen describes as “the most dramatic retirement in the world.” Jefferson devoted his final years toward founding the University of Virginia. John Quincy Adams went on to serve nine terms in the House of Representatives and became a leading voice in the abolitionist movement. Until Donald Trump, Grover Cleveland was the only President to serve non-consecutive terms, making Cleveland the original “comeback kid.” Taft followed up his single term in the Oval Office by pursuing his ultimate dream of becoming a Supreme Court Justice. Hoover and his wife devoted themselves to humanitarian aid for decades after leaving the White House. Jimmy Carter enjoyed the longest post-Presidency in history, devoting himself to a variety of human rights causes. And if you’ve lost track of George W. Bush since he left Washington, that’s by design. Free from the limelight, you won’t believe how Bush has been spending his time lately. A fascinating read if you love Presidential history.
Bible Translations for Everyone: A Guide to Finding a Bible That’s Right for You by Tim Wildsmith
Another question I’m asked quite often is, “What is the difference between this translation of the Bible and that one?” Wildsmith has written a concise, informative volume explaining the history and translation philosophy of each major English Bible on the market today. I’ll be handing out copies of this for years to come.
Best Re-Read:
The Ragamuffin Gospel: Good News for the Bedraggled, Beat-Up, and Burnt Out by Brennan Manning
I spent the summer re-reading this classic by Brennan Manning. I originally read this 25 years ago as a brand new youth minister. I’m happy to say that it still holds up. A stirring examination of the best news of all: the gift of God’s grace.
This holiday season, I have been thinking a lot about the lyrics of some of the songs we hear and sing around this time of year. I’ve thought about that line from Joy to the World, what it really means to prepare Him room. As I mentioned in my previous post, I’ve thought about the opening line of O Come All Ye Faithful with its call for the faithful, the joyful, and the triumphant to come and adore the Christ child and what that might imply for the rest of us. And this past week, I’ve thought a lot about Silent Night.
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
I guess from a certain point of view, you could say that Jesus was born on a silent night. By the time He was born, it had been four hundred years since the last prophet in Israel. Just think about it. That means no inspired writers. No prophetic utterances. No one boldly declaring, “Thus sayeth the Lord!” I wouldn’t blame the people if they started to wonder, Does God have anything left to say to us? Since the days of Malachi, generation after generation had been born and lived and died without any new word from the Lord. In that regard, the night when Jesus was born was just the latest in a series of silent nights stretching back hundreds of years.
But when it comes down to the reality of His birth, this holiest of nights was far from silent. I’ve been in the room for three different births and I can tell you that “silent” is the last word I would use to describe the scene. Even with the help of modern medicine, there’s still a fair amount of screaming and crying going on when a baby is born. Imagine how much more so this must have been the case for Mary, giving birth in a dark cave, no epidural, no spinal block. You think Mary was silent? Probably not!
But they say the most important sound amid all the chaos is the baby’s first cry. It’s a sign that he or she is healthy — that air is being forced into the lungs as the baby transitions from life inside the womb to life outside. Imagine Mary’s joy at hearing the cry of her son for the first time. After all those months of waiting, the child had finally arrived.
And He cried.
This is worth considering in a deep way.
When Jesus was born, God’s long silence was finally broken.
After centuries with no word from the Lord, God finally had something to say.
And that long silent night was broken when God — in the form of a child — began to cry.
Just let that sink in. After four hundred years of silence, what would be the first thing to come out of God’s mouth? A word of judgment? A prophetic prediction? A declaration of power? No — it was a child’s cry! Who could have ever seen that one coming? The eternal, self-sufficient God crying to be held, crying to be fed. It defies our wildest expectations and — for my money — is the greatest evidence that this story originated from on high. We would never concoct such an unexpected story!
God breaks the long silence by putting the cry of humanity upon His own lips.
We have been crying out for a long time. War and violence. Famine and plague. Oppression and abuse. Paul says creation itself is groaning as in childbirth. How long, O Lord? This is the cry of the psalmist and the prophet alike, but it is our cry as well. In the words of another Christmas song, we live in a weary world in need of rejoicing. As we survey this mess of pain and suffering, we might wonder if God has anything left to say to us.
But in the birth of this child, God puts our cries upon His own lips.
He subjects Himself to our weary world.
And when He arrives, He cries.
He feels what we feel; He is Immanuel, God with us but also God as one of us.
On that holiest of nights, God breaks the silence with a cry.
How do you react when a child starts crying in church? Does it irritate you? If you’re the parent of that child, does it embarrass you?
Some people seem to have this assumption that children are supposed to be completely silent during worship. And I guess I understand that, at least up to a point. No parent wants their child to be a distraction as we’re praying or reading God’s Word or taking communion together.
But at the same time, the cry of a child during worship is actually in keeping with the story we’re supposed to be remembering and celebrating. The cry of a child during worship — especially during communion — might actually be the holiest part of our week if we just have eyes to see and ears to hear.
The next time you hear the cry of a child as we worship, it’s not a time to get irritated. If you’re the parent of that child, it’s not a time to be embarrassed.
May the cries of that child remind us of that holiest of nights, when Christ was born — when God broke His silence by putting the cry of humanity on His lips.
And may the cries of that child point us to the cross, where Jesus bore our grief and carried our sorrows, as He was pierced for our transgressions and He cried out once again.
When I was a child, we would drive past Cumberland Presbyterian Church every Sunday and every Wednesday on our way to our church. And every year, right after Thanksgiving, Cumberland Presbyterian would have an elaborate nativity display set out on their front lawn. There were shepherds and wise men, camels and sheep, Mary and Joseph and, of course, baby Jesus lying in the manger. There was a certain wonder to the imagery which really captured my imagination as a child. I don’t remember very many people putting Christmas lights on their houses back in those days, but I can still remember the Cumberland Presbyterian nativity display. That picture is still vivid in my memory.
And I suspect that this picture is probably firmly fixed in your mind as well. It’s an image that comes to mind for most people whenever they think about Christmas. And although there is something to be said for familiarity — especially when it comes to biblical stories — there is also a danger here, too. When a story is so familiar to us and we feel like we’ve heard it a hundred times already, it can lose some of its wonder. We can miss out on some important truths simply because of our familiarity with the story. And I think that might be the case with the nativity story.
I’ve driven past dozens of nativity displays this month — but I can’t say that I’ve allowed myself to be captivated by a single one so far.
To conclude this short series on the angelic visitations which heralded the birth of the Messiah, I hope we can hear this final story in its fullness, in all of its wonder. Because it is truly a story brimming with good news of great joy for ALL people — including you and me.
In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered….And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
Luke 2:1-7
Immediately, we’re dealing with an important bit of political context here: a decree goes out from Caesar. In the ancient world of the New Testament, Caesar was thought of as more than simply a human ruler; he was considered by many to be a divine figure. He was commonly hailed as “the son of God” and “lord” and “savior” throughout the empire. In the days of Caesar, “good news” would have been proclaimed on the streets of Rome anytime a Roman general won victory on foreign soil. All of these words had political meaning in the ancient world.
And if we were reading this in the first century, our ears would perk up at the mention of Caesar. Only he could command “that all the world should be registered” (v1). Scholars understand this as a nod toward the Roman ideology that the entire world was destined to come under Roman control. Early readers of Luke’s Gospel would naturally assume that a decree from Caesar Augustus would qualify as the most important herald in this text.
But that’s just a setup. Sure, the world may think that all of this is happening at Caesar’s command. But Luke is winking at us as he tells his story. As we keep reading, we see that there is a higher power truly calling the shots. This is the true good news of the true Son of God, the true lord, the true Savior who will bring eternal peace to the world.
When this mandatory decree is issued, Joseph sets off for Bethlehem, bringing Mary with him, even though she’s in the final stages of her pregnancy. Assuming they bypassed Samaria, as was common practice, the trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem would cover about ninety miles and it would have taken about three days.
And when they arrive in Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph are unable to find accommodations in the public inn. The census issued by Caesar meant that these lodgings were already occupied. So they are directed to the stable with the animals. And this is where our familiar depictions of the nativity often get it wrong. This wasn’t like a modern-day barn. In the hill country of Judea, it probably would have been a cave used for sheltering animals.
So that means Jesus was born…in a cave?
Yes, most likely.
And that’s important for at least two reasons:
Caves were often used as tombs in Israel. You see this throughout the Old Testament. For example, in Genesis 25 it says that Abraham was buried in a cave by his sons Isaac and Ishmael. So the fact that Jesus was born in a cave after a three-day journey is really interesting, even though you don’t see that in the typical nativity display. That means that the birth of Jesus occurred in a place traditionally associated with death. Do you see why that might be important? Can you see how that foreshadows His resurrection? Being born in a cave in Bethlehem just sets the stage for Him to be raised back to life in a tomb in Jerusalem. The three-day journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem so He could be born in a cave anticipates the three-day journey into hell which is a prelude to His resurrection. The location of His physical birth parallels the location of His spiritual rebirth. When you look at it this way, it’s like, “Well, of course He had to be born in a cave!”
Such a lowly birth is in keeping with His humility. You might assume that the birth of the Son of God would take place with a lot of fanfare, some big dramatic production for all the world to see. But there is zero pretense here. He was born in a place that was cold and dark and smelled like manure. There’s no team of doctors or nurses waiting to receive Him; there’s just a carpenter…and a donkey. And that’s how your Savior was born. But that sort of birth is befitting of the One who, in the words of Philippians 2, made himself nothing and took the form of a servant and humbled himself by becoming obedient unto death — even death upon a cross! There is indeed something truly wonderful going on here in this lowly birth — and we dare not miss it simply because it is familiar.
In the next part of the story, we get our angelic announcement. But it comes to the most unlikely group of people.
And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”
Luke 2:8-14
This is another place where our familiarity with the nativity story can keep us from some of its wonder. We’ve seen the pictures of the shepherds gathered around the Messiah a million times. But this would have been pretty shocking to most Hebrew people in the first century. Shepherding may have been considered more noble back in the days of King David, but by the first century shepherds were not held in high regard. In general, shepherds were considered to be dishonest and unclean according to the standards of the law. They were often accused of robbery and using land that didn’t belong to them. In fact, shepherds had such a bad reputation among the Jewish people that they were disqualified from being legal witnesses in court. One rabbi in the third century is quoted as saying, “There is no more despised occupation in the world than that of shepherds.” Also, shepherds were usually poor peasants at the bottom of the social and economic scale — quite a contrast to the wise men n Matthew’s Gospel, who come bearing gold and other gifts.
With all of that in mind, it’s incredible that these lowly shepherds are the first ones to hear the angelic proclamation about the Messiah’s birth. We might expect God to share this news with a different group: the Pharisees in Jerusalem or the priests in the temple or the ladies Bible study in Bethlehem — anybody but these guys! They’re the most unlikely candidates to receive a visit from the angels!
But evidently God doesn’t see these shepherds the same way everyone else does. There’s some grace in the fact that the last and the least are the first to hear the good news. These shepherds represent the very outcasts and sinners for whom Jesus came. Remember, their testimony wouldn’t even hold up in court in their own day! How ironic, then, that God would see fit to record their testimony here in the Gospel of Luke for the entire world to hear throughout the ages!
This is further evidence of God’s grace at work in this story. The birth of Jesus is good news of great joy for all people — and that includes these shepherds.
It includes the downcast and the downtrodden and the despised.
It includes the weary and the heavy-laden, the last, the least, and the lost.
This angelic proclamation in the Bethlehem countryside makes this abundantly clear.
The birth of Jesus is good news for ALL people.
The song O Come All Ye Faithful is one of the most popular hymns in the world. It was originally written in Latin and it is now sung in well over a hundred languages worldwide. No doubt you’ve heard it dozens of times already during this holiday season — in fact, we sang it at our church just yesterday. The opening lines of this song really struck me the other day:
O come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant!
O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem;
Come and behold Him born the King of angels;
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.
It is a beautiful song, a call for the faithful to come and adore the child born in Bethlehem. It is a call for the joyful and the triumphant to do the same. And yet, these lyrics struck me because I think they’re only telling half the story.
It’s true — the faithful and the joyful and the triumphant can certainly come and adore Him.
But I have to tell you, sometimes I don’t feel very faithful. I try really hard, but sometimes I fall short. Despite my best effort, sometimes faithfulness is a struggle for me. And maybe you can relate to that struggle. When we hear, “O come all ye faithful,” some of us wonder if that includes us.
And I have to tell you, sometimes I don’t feel very joyful either. Sometimes I’m confused or I’m weeping or I’m disappointed or I’m hurting — and joy doesn’t come easily for me in these moments. And maybe some of you can relate to that, too. Maybe you’re in a difficult season right now and joy doesn’t come easily. So when we hear, “O come all ye joyful,” we’re left with the assumption that the Kingdom of God is only for people who are all happy-clappy sunshine and bliss.
And I have to tell you, sometimes I don’t feel very triumphant. Sometimes it feels as if the enemy really has my number. Sometimes it feels like I’m playing checkers while the devil is playing chess. It’s humbling to admit it, but the enemy is stronger than I am. And maybe some of you can relate to that, too. And we’re left wondering, what if I don’t always feel triumphant in my faith? Can I still come and adore Him?
Maybe the faithful and the joyful and the triumphant are up there at the front of the line adoring the Christ child.
Maybe they’re the ones for whom faith always comes easily and joy is ever-present and their lives are marked by triumph after triumph after triumph.
I don’t know anybody like that, but maybe that sort of life is possible.
But if your life of faith doesn’t look that way, there is still good news.
The King says you can come.
You can come and adore Him, too.
He has a place for you — just as He has a place for these lowly shepherds.
This child didn’t just come for the faithful and the joyful and the triumphant. He came for us all.
If you prepare Him room, He’ll do the same for you. No matter who you are.
God has His angels make this announcement out in public — as it says, “to shepherds out watching their flocks at night.” This isn’t a secret revealed only in the sanctuary of a church or a temple. It’s public truth declared out in the open for all to hear. The Kingdom of God is for everyone.
That’s good news of great joy that’s for the whole world.
O Come All Ye Faithful is a beautiful hymn, no doubt. But the real nativity song — the song these shepherds heard out in the field that night — was more like this:
The song O Come, O Come, Emmanuel originated as a series of monastic chants over 1,200 years ago. These chants were later combined into a single hymn in the 12th century which was translated into English in the 1850s. The lyrics are drawn from Old Testament prophecies anticipating the birth of the Messiah. This sense of expectation is captured well in the opening lines of the song:
O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
The line that captures my attention is “lonely exile.” Nothing breaks our hearts quite like separation. The holidays can be a wonderful time of fellowship and laughter and joy, but they can also be painful reminders of “lonely exile” for some of us. Maybe you have an empty chair around your table this year. Maybe you’re estranged from a family member. Maybe your children are old enough now that you have to “share” them with their in-laws — and you might be struggling with that adjustment.
The best Christmas songs reflect these kinds of realities. As we navigate our way through life, we face a series of “lonely exiles” — and the greatest separation of all is the one created by sin.
But the best Christmas songs also point us to see the birth of Jesus as God’s answer to our exile. The refrain of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel captures this:
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel
There is such joy in the knowledge that through Jesus, God has come to us. He is present with us because He has promised that He would never leave us and never forsake us. No matter our circumstances, we can rejoice in the truth that, in Jesus, God is always WITH us.
As we continue our Herald series, examining the four angelic announcements which accompany the birth of Jesus, we turn our attention to the story recorded in Matthew’s Gospel. In the previous post, we read Luke’s story about the angel who visited Mary; now we hear about a similar experience from the life of Joseph.
Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. And her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly. But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet:
“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with us).
When Joseph woke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him: he took his wife, but knew her not until she had given birth to a son. And he called his name Jesus.
Matthew 1:18-25
Matthew tells us that Joseph is a just man — which means that he is righteous — but he’s also a good man. When he learns that Mary is pregnant prior to their wedding day, he decides to end the marriage, but he doesn’t want to expose Mary to public disgrace, so he decides to end things quietly.
But an angel of the Lord visits Joseph in a dream, telling him that Mary’s child has been conceived by the Holy Spirit. And Joseph is told to name the child “Jesus” because He will save His people from their sins.
And Matthew says this is the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy. About seven hundred years earlier, Isaiah predicted that a virgin would conceive and give birth to a son who would be known known as Immanuel, “God with us” (Isaiah 7:14). Being a righteous man, Joseph likely remembered this word of prophecy. Presumably, the angel helps Joseph to see that he has a part to play in the fulfillment of God’s plan, which is being fulfilled in the virgin birth of this child. His unique birth is a sign that God is with His people.
The word “with” is a really small word but it is also a life-changing word. It simply means, “to be accompanied by another.” And sometimes that knowledge can be enough to change your life — just knowing that someone is with you.
When you’re the new kid at school and someone invites you to join in with their group, to sit at their lunch table.
When you’re grieving and your best friend drives all through the night just to hold your hand and join you in your pain.
When your friends and family gather around to celebrate your birthday and you know, “These are my people.”
These moments are powerful because someone chooses to be with you.
So it’s only natural that we would bring this same idea into our relationship with God. In our “lonely exile” we long for God to be with us. You can hear this in the way we pray: we ask God to be with the people we love. I’ve prayed that prayer at every wedding and every funeral over which I have presided for the last 25 years. Whether in grief or joy, the most comforting thought we can imagine is God being with us.
And in Jesus, God says, “I’m right here…I’m with you.”
The most repeated promise in the Bible is God saying to His people, “I am with you.” it’s as if we have this universal desire to know that we’re not alone — and God seems to have an equal desire to let us know that He is always with His people. Here are a few examples from the scriptures:
When God spoke to Moses out of the burning bush, He told him to lead the Israelites to the Promised Land. But that would mean going back to Egypt. This was the place of Moses’s greatest moral failure, the place where he killed a man and fled as a fugitive. But God says, “I need you to go back there.” God always makes you confront your guilt. He’s kind of relentless about this.
But Moses balks and says, “Who am I to do this? I’m a nobody. On top of that, I’m a wanted man — I’m a murderer. If I go back to Egypt, I’ll never get out of there alive.” And in response to this, God says in Exodus 3:12, “But I will be with you…” Essentially, He says, “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Just follow Me and I will take care of the rest.”
God’s presence — His with-ness, if we can invent a word here — is great enough to overcome our guilt and our shame, our failures and our greatest mistakes. God says to Moses, “I’m with you every step of the way.”
And God repeats this same promise to Moses’s successor, Joshua, who has the daunting task of leading the Israelites into the Promised Land. God tells Joshua to go to a place he’s never been before; and he will be facing all of these new enemies, new challenges. And he will be doing this without Moses, who has been leading these people for forty long years. That’s a lot of change, a lot of transition — and Joshua was feeling what a lot of us feel whenever we go through times of transition: fear.
But God says to Joshua, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go,” (Joshua 1:9). God promises that He will give the Israelites every place where they set their feet in the land of Israel. All Joshua needs to do is remember that God is with him. God’s presence will help Joshua navigate through this uncertainty.
And it goes on from there throughout the Bible. The people and places may change, but God’s promise is steadfast. He says over and over, I am with you.
And in Jesus, God is saying to us, “I am with you.”
Like Moses, so many of us are crippled by shame. We have mistakes in our past, things we’ve said and done which still haunt us. And those feelings of regret and shame weigh so heavily upon us, to the point that we say, like Moses, “I’m nothing. I’m worthless.” But God’s response to all of that is to say, “Don’t worry. I am with you.” God offers the power of His presence as a counter to that narrative of negativity. God says, “I am with you,” because He knows that His presence is transformative. Just knowing that God is with you can change your life.
And just like Joshua, many of us are facing challenges that seem overwhelming. Maybe you’re dealing with some significant challenges at work or in your family. Maybe you’re dealing with strains in some area of your personal life, like your finances or a relationship. Like Joshua, many of us are fighting our fears. But that’s right where God shows up — in Joshua’s story, but also in our own lives. And He says, “I will be with you, wherever you go.” God must love saying this, because He says it all the time in the Bible. And He says it once and for all in Jesus.
Jesus as “God with us” is a strong counter to some of the false understandings people sometimes have about God. These misunderstandings are their own types of “lonely exile.”
God has abandoned me.
Sometimes people think, “God has forsaken me” and it almost always comes from an overwhelming sense of pain. When the pain is so strong that it’s the only thing we feel, we might assume God has turned His back on us. But the birth of Jesus is a clear signal that this is never the case. It’s a reminder of something God says in both the Old and New Testaments: Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you, (Deut. 31:6; Heb. 13:5). In Jesus, we have the fulfillment of this promise.
God is against me.
This is when we start thinking that God is actively opposing us. We think that He’s seeking to punish us or that He’s working against us as if He’s our enemy. But the birth of Jesus is a sign that God is FOR us, not against us. The arrival of the Messiah proclaims that God is on our side. Romans 8:31, If God is for us, who can be against us? The word of the Lord is certain and we can trust in His promise.
God is apathetic toward me.
Another misconception is “God doesn’t care about me.” With over eight billion people in our world today, some of us might start to think, “I’m so insignificant, there’s no way God could be concerned about me.” But the birth of Jesus counters that misconception, too. He promises to be with you because He cares. 1 Peter 5:7, Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.
All three of these views of God are proven to be false whenever we see Jesus as Immanuel, as evidence that God is indeed with us.
We have considered what all of this would have meant for Mary, but it’s worth considering Joseph’s role in the divine plan, too.
In a shame / honor culture, a pregnancy out of wedlock would have brought immense shame. But Mary wasn’t the only one who would have been shamed here. A great deal of shame would have been heaped upon Joseph, too, if he didn’t divorce Mary. Going through with the marriage would have been understood as a tacit admission of his own guilt. He would basically be saying, “The baby is mine,” — which would have brought shame to this righteous man.
But this is where we see some gospel in this story: Joseph willingly accepts this shame — shame which wasn’t rightfully his own, but he was willing to take it on anyway. In this way, Joseph proves himself to be the perfect earthly father for Jesus, the One who would eventually do the same thing by taking the blame for sins He didn’t commit, accepting a penalty He never deserved. Jesus did this because it was the will of the Father above, but also because His earthly father modeled this for him.
Do you know the first verse of the Bible? A lot of people can recite it from memory: Genesis 1:1, In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. This foundational statement grounds everything that follows in the Scriptures.
But what about the last verse in the Bible? That one probably doesn’t come to mind as quickly, does it? But the last verse of the Bible contains a foundational truth as well: Revelation 22:21, The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.
The Bible begins with this epic scene: God speaking the heavens and the earth into existence. It’s this huge, wide-angle scene with the creation of the sun and the moon and life here on earth. But the Bible closes with these simple words of hope: may the grace of Jesus be with His people. The entire Gospel is bound up in that one little word “with.” It’s a word which carries all of our deepest desires — to be with God someday. And Jesus has come to be with us to give us what we need more than anything else: the grace that leads to eternal life.
It’s as if God wants to say this one more time before we close our Bibles: I am with you. If My Son is with you, then My grace is with you. God promises to be with those who put their trust in Him.
Are you in need of His grace today? Are you in need of His presence?
Maybe you have everything you’ve ever wanted, and yet you still feel a sense of “lonely exile,” as if something is missing. That’s because you were made for more than what this life can offer. You were made for eternal union with God — and your soul remains restless until it finds rest in Him.
His grace is extended to any who would respond to Him in faith.
He is Immanuel, God with us. May His grace be with us all.
Over the course of his long career, Johnny Cash performed more than thirty different “prison concerts” for inmates both in this country and around the world. He played these shows as a way of advocating for prison reform but also because he believed that as a Christian, he had a responsibility to encourage the downtrodden and to give hope to the hopeless. He once told a story about performing at a maximum-security prison where he decided to play the song “Amazing Grace.” Cash said he was absolutely blown away at the way these prisoners sang this old gospel hymn with all of their hearts and all of their souls and all of their voices! When the song was over, Cash paused the show and asked the men, “What does this song mean to you?”
One man who was serving time for attempted murder said, “You know, I was a deacon in the church for years but I didn’t really know what grace was until I ended up here.” It was only after undergoing the humbling experience of going to prison that this man came to repentance. He came to know the grace of God in a personal way after this.
I guess you could say that this man had to be put behind bars in order to find true freedom.
God often works in the most unexpected ways to do the most extraordinary things.
I’m working through a holiday series entitled Herald: Good News, Great Joy. I’m looking at the four angelic announcements recorded in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke heralding the birth of the Messiah. And in our text for today, we will see God working in a most unexpected place and in a most unexpected way to bring about the good news of great joy for the entire world.
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. And the virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, O favored one, the Lord is with you!” But she was greatly troubled at the saying, and tried to discern what sort of greeting this might be. And the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”
And Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?”
And the angel answered her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy — the Son of God. And behold, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.”
And Mary said, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her.
Luke 1:26-38
This is Gabriel’s second special assignment in the Gospel of Luke. In our last post, we looked at the message he delivered to Zechariah and Elizabeth: that they would have a son even though they were well past their childbearing years. We know this child as John the Baptist, the forerunner of the Messiah. In Hebrew, the root of the name John means “grace.” With John’s birth, God is announcing the dawn of a new age, an age of grace. Now, six months later, Gabriel appears to a young woman named Mary who is betrothed to Joseph. And Gabriel has a similar message for Mary: she, too, will bear a son.
Before we get into the specifics of the announcement, let’s talk about the Jewish practice of betrothal. In ancient Israel, the marriage custom had two stages: first the betrothal and then the wedding itself. Parents would often choose a spouse for their child during the early teenage years. This would involve a prenuptial agreement between the families, which was ratified by witnesses, and also the exchanging of a dowry. At this stage, the couple was considered to be legally married — but it’s important to note that the couple did not live together as husband and wife until after the wedding ceremony, usually about a year after they were officially betrothed. It was during this period of betrothal when Gabriel appears to Mary. Luke makes this clear by saying Mary was betrothed to Joseph at the time — but he emphasizes this point by referring to Mary as a “virgin” three different times.
So as Luke tells it, the story of Jesus begins with these two women and two impossible pregnancies: Elizabeth, the older woman, well beyond her childbearing years; Mary, the young virgin, betrothed but not yet married. And yet, against all expectation, both of them will bear sons. These miraculous pregnancies are a signal that God is at work. Yes, these may be “impossible” pregnancies, but as Gabriel himself says in v37, “Nothing is impossible with God.” The older woman’s son will bring an end to the old era while the young woman’s son will usher in the new.
These two women and their sons belong to on story. The way Luke tells these two stories makes this abundantly clear. Look at the parallels in these two birth announcements in Luke 1:
And yet, there are significant differences in these two stories, too.
As we noticed previously, Zechariah and Elizabeth are hailed as righteous and blameless. He’s a priest and she’s a descendant of Aaron, which means she comes from a long line of godly servants. Zechariah is in Jerusalem, serving in the temple, the center of the Jewish world. When Gabriel appears, Zechariah is at the altar of incense in the Holy Place, with only a curtain separating him from the presence of God’s glory.
Mary, on the other hand, is miles away in Galilee, in the obscure village of Nazareth, with an estimated population of no more than 1,500 people at the time, putting it on par with such bustling metropolises as Hackleburg, Alabama and Fleming-Neon, Kentucky. Nazareth was so insignificant that it’s never mentioned in the Old Testament, in the rabbinic literature, or in the writings of Josephus. This is a NOWHERE town. And Mary certainly doesn’t have the credentials of Zechariah and Elizabeth. There is no commendation of her character here. Unlike Zechariah and Elizabeth, Mary hasn’t been praying for a child. She’s just a teenage girl waiting for her wedding day. Gabriel’s proclamation to her is completely unexpected.
But as we said, God often works in unexpected places and in unexpected ways to do the most extraordinary things. We probably should expect nothing less from a God who says that His thoughts are not our thoughts and His ways are not our ways (Isaiah 55:8).
When Gabriel speaks to Mary, he literally says something along the lines of “Rejoice, favored one.” What does “favored one” mean?
Well, for starters, it doesn’t mean “favorite one.” Because God doesn’t play favorites.
This phrase literally means “one who has received grace.” The root word here is used throughout the New Testament to signify God’s grace, His blessing, His kindness. And this must be an important idea because it’s repeated twice: Mary, you are the favored one; you have found favor with God. We should note that Mary has done nothing to earn or deserve this favor. That’s not the way grace works. This is simply the unmerited, unexpected favor of God.
And how do you respond when you’ve received the favor of God, the grace of God? The most natural response is to rejoice.
Do you find your joy waning a bit these days?
Is joy an ever-present part of your life or does it seem a bit elusive?
If you’re struggling to feel joy right now, consider how gracious God has been to you. Think about a time when you were begging God for forgiveness; a time when you didn’t receive the punishment you deserved, but instead God gave you the grace you needed. Remember a time when God was really kind to you, really gracious with you.
If you reflect on these things long enough, you’ll start to feel joy again.
Because when you come to see yourself as God’s favored one, rejoicing will become second nature.
Gabriel says to Mary, “The Lord is with you.” But Mary is troubled by this. Literally, she is confused, perplexed. She’s probably thinking, Why should God be with me? Mary has no social standing, no economic power, no status which would merit this kind of visitation. She’s an unknown girl in an insignificant town, a nobody from nowhere. But Mary is precisely the kind of person God favors. And God seems to work in the most unexpected ways to do the most extraordinary things. This small town teenager receives the most unexpected news of all: God is enabling her, through His gracious favor, to be the mother of the Messiah.
It is fitting that the birth of Jesus should come as an act of unmerited favor because we understand his death in the same way. At the cross, Jesus will atone for our sins, granting us grace we could never earn or merit or deserve. God’s gracious favor toward us is so unexpected that it must arrive in the world in the most unique and unexpected way: a virgin birth. Both His birth and His death are properly understood as acts of unmerited favor.
With Gabriel’s announcement, Mary’s life takes an unexpected turn. Prior to this, I imagine Mary was preparing for her wedding, preparing for her life as a young bride. But those plans change when she hears what God has in store for her. Instead of picking out flowers for her bouquet, she has to start putting together a nursery. Instead of well wishes and congratulations from everyone in her small town, she’s going to receive a lot of sideways glances and judgmental looks. I’m sure she will have some individuals who will continue to stand by her side, but she’ll also have quite a few former friends who won’t have much to do with her anymore. That’s just the messy reality she faces when she hears Gabriel’s announcement.
When God does a most unexpected thing and Mary’s life takes this most unexpected turn, she has a decision to make. How will she react? How do you and I react when life doesn’t go the way we expected?
This young woman is a good example for us to follow. Her response is recorded in v38: “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.”
I think it’s important to note that nothing happens here without Mary’s consent. Gabriel announces God’s plan, but it seems Mary is granted the agency to consent. The birth of Jesus — the One who is both fully God AND fully man — comes through the partnership between the humans and the divine. So Mary agrees to partner with God in this holy endeavor.
In the song, Joy to the World, we sing the line, “Let earth receive her King.” But before this could happen, there’s another line from the song that describes Mary’s situation. It’s the next line of the song: “let ev’ry heart prepare Him room.” Before the earth could receive her King and heaven and nature sing, Mary had to “prepare Him room” — in her heart, yes; but also in her body.
Mary’s consent to God’s will is evidence of her trust in the Lord. She totally submits herself to God’s direction, but also to His protection. Under the Mosaic Law, if a betrothed woman was found to be pregnant, the penalty she faced was execution by stoning. Mary would have to trust that God would protect her from such a fate. And then there’s the matter of Joseph. When he learns that she’s pregnant, he’s well within his rights to terminate the marriage contract. By trusting in God’s will for her, Mary is also trusting that God would work out the details in her relationship with her fiancé, too. When your life takes an unexpected turn, this is an opportunity to grow in trust, to grow in your dependence upon the Lord. This is one of the lessons we can learn from the example of Mary. Her trust in God’s will for her life has “trickle down” impact across the rest of her life, too. She trusts that if God has called her to this, then God will also provide for her. God’s calling and God’s provision are always intertwined.
Luke’s Gospel begins with the stories of these two women — Elizabeth and Mary — and their impossible pregnancies. And the wombs of these women foreshadow the tomb where Jesus will be laid at the end of Luke’s Gospel, after His crucifixion.
Elizabeth, the elderly woman well past her childbearing years.
Mary, the young virgin, betrothed but not yet married.
And the tomb of Jesus, a place of darkness and death.
You don’t expect to find life in any of these places. But as Gabriel reminds us, nothing is impossible with God. The miraculous pregnancies of Elizabeth and Mary are a prelude to that glorious Resurrection Sunday when the light of new creation would dawn once and for all. On that day, Jesus emerges from the womb of that grave as the first fruit of God’s resurrection power. He rises victorious over sin and death and the devil himself. Eternal life for God’s people is now guaranteed because He lives — to this day, He lives.
God chose a graveyard, of all places, as the backdrop for His greatest miracle of all — a place where we would never expect to find life.
And God’s eternal plan unfolds in a backwater, nowhere town in the middle of Galilee and it centers on the willingness of an unmarried teenager as the recipient of His unmerited favor.
Indeed, God works in the most unexpected ways to do the most extraordinary things. Nothing is impossible with God.
already & not yet 