The Light of the Proclamation: A Shepherd’s Look at the Incarnation

Luke 2:13-16 (based on vv. 8-20)

Cascades Fellowship CRC, JX MI
December 24th, 2003
Christmas Eve Service

We deserved better … I deserved better. My family and I are shepherds – we watch

sheep. Our life is a solitary one. Long nights are the mark of a shepherd’s life. We sleep

little, eat just a little more than we sleep. Our sheep and our lives are continually threatened

by wild animals, wild weather, and wild men – thieves and robbers that roam the

countryside. Constant vigilance is needed. Few people know the rigors of our life.

You see, that’s because shepherds are considered ceremonially unclean. The life we

lead often brings us into contact with things that make us unclean, so as a general rule

shepherds are shunned by others. Respectable people would sooner talk to a harlot than a

shepherd. To be a shepherd is to be unclean.

How ironic! Who is it that cares for their precious little lambs used for sacrifice?

Who makes sure the sheep make it to the altar unblemished and acceptable for sacrifice?

Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness! Were it not for us the entire nation

would remain guilty before God! Yet, they exclude us from the life of the Temple – the ones

who provide lambs whose blood pours down the sides of the altar in red streams of

forgiveness. Israel continues to live because we continue to be outcasts. Unclean!

The bitterness of it eats at my heart. Have they forgotten that our greatest king

started life as a shepherd? Our hope for a Messiah comes from God’s promise given to

David, a shepherd. Isaiah prophesied that David’s greater Son – the shoot from the stump of

Jesse – will ascend the throne of David and rule with justice, righteousness and might. He
will destroy the oppressors of Israel and all enmity will be turned to peace. All this, from

the Son of a shepherd.

That was the resentment that chewed on my soul. But one night everything changed

for me – a night when all my darkness became light. It was a night like any other, except

for the appearance of a “guest star.” As a shepherd, you get to know the stars you sleep

under. You use them to mark the seasons so you know when to move the flock to that

hidden plateau lush with winter grass. I often entertained myself by finding shapes in the

stars and making up legends of how they got there.

As the night settled into darkness, the darkness of my lot in life settled on my heart.

The star seemed to settle over the City of David – Bethlehem, home of the Shepherd-King.

The blackness in my heart deepened. How could our own people turn their backs on us?

Outcast! Unclean! And now this star, as if to mock us, settles over the city whose claim to

fame was a shepherd who became a king.

A dark and ominous legend began to form in my heart. This star was the star of

vengeance – God was displeased with how such a noble profession had been subjected to

such dishonor. Shepherds were the true Israelites and the star was the glory of the angel of

deliverance God had sent to restore us to an honored place in society.

But something pained my contemplations. The light. The incessant light of the

guest-star kept glinting, sending penetrating shards of radiance into my darkened mind. The

light was somehow reassuring, calming. It pierced my heart and struggled with the darkness

for supremacy. Then, something wonderful happened.

 Light. Incredible, enveloping inundating light filled the sky. The entire meadow

glowed with the brilliance of a wilderness noonday sun. The darkness fled, no shadow

could be seen within the pale of the light. Only the “guest star” shined brightly enough to

be seen – all other stars winked out of sight, lost in the resplendent glory of the angel.

Yes, an angel. A messenger from God confronted us, still pulsing with the light of

holiness from being in God’s presence. In absolute terror, I threw myself upon my face and

began praying that God would be merciful. Surely, being in the presence of even such

derivative holiness was a death sentence for a heart filled with darkness.

Funny, as I lay there trembling – expecting the finger of judgment – my mind was

consumed with the stone that was digging into my hip. In my haste to hide my face from

the holiness radiating from the angel, I had landed on the jagged edge of a protruding rock.

It a dug deep into my flesh and was now burning sharply. I felt the first trickles of blood

soaking my tunic. Strange, that I should be so aware of the stone in that moment.

Then, in a voice soothing and compelling, the angel said,

“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all
the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he
is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby
wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

At the sound of his voice, the dread holding me captive melted away. Suddenly, the light

radiating from the angel became a welcoming embrace.

Then all at once, a host of angels filled the glory-soaked meadow, crowding into a

semi-circle around us. The glory enveloping us seemed to bulge, threatening to break out of

the hem of darkness that surrounded the meadow. With voices that resonated like streams of
living water, the angelic host proclaimed, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace

to men on whom his favor rests.”

The sound of their refrain echoed off the surrounding hillsides. As the echo faded,

the angels blinked out of sight. In a matter of seconds, the glow of glory faded and the

darkness rushed in again to claim the meadow. Wincing at the pain in my hip, I stood with

the others and contemplated the meaning behind the angelic message. Then, we all began to

speak at once.

‘Did you see that?”

“Man, was I scared?”

‘What does it mean?”

My oldest brother broke in above the rest of us, “Praise, YHWH! The messiah has

come.” Silence. As the magnitude of his proclamation settled in I asked, “What should we

do?”

Shortly, it was decided that we should go and search for the Messiah. I volunteered,

along with my youngest brother, to stay behind and watch the flock. Even as we spoke, my

hip was stiffening – walking was becoming difficult.

The night dragged on to dawn. Just as the sun peeked over the mountains, voices of

praise ricocheted into the meadow. Soon, my brothers followed, singing songs of joy and

deliverance. In breathless excitement they told us that they had found the child just as the

angel described – wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. The father, a carpenter, talked

excited about other angel visitations, including when he was instructed to name the child

Jesus “…because” the angel had said, “he will save his people from their sins.”
 My oldest brother began reciting the passage in Isaiah where the sign of the Messiah

will be a virgin giving birth to a child, but anything more I did not hear. I was suddenly lost

in my own musings. Ringing in my ears were the words of the carpenter – because he will

save his people from their sin. How? What did that mean?

There is no forgiveness without the shedding of blood. Would the child grow into a

priest, offering sacrifices on behalf of the people? How could he if he is from the line of

David – the shoot of Jesse? Sacrifice was the Levites’ domain. How could he save his

people from their sins?

My heart began sifting through the prophets. He was named Jesus, “God saves,”

because he will save his people from their sins. How? Deep in the recesses of my heart, a

voice began reciting the prophet Isaiah

Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we

considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our
iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own
way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all…
Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide
the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death,
and was numbered with the transgressors.
For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.

Stunned, I mumbled quietly, “Only a sacrifice can bear sin for another. He, himself,

will be our sacrifice. The shedding of his blood will purchase our peace with God.” The

light of revelation flooded my heart as I gripped the truth of my own words. He would bear

our sin – not a lamb. He would make intercession for the transgressors with his own life,
not the life of a lamb. One life for the many; and if one life suffices for the many, it suffices

for me. I will be clean.

The words resonated of throughout my whole being. I will be clean – restored to

favor with God. I will be clean! Breaking into my revelry, the voice of the prophet spoke

once more.

Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the Lord
been revealed?

To me. I have believed the message and have seen the salvation of our God. I will
be clean!
And now, I have proclaimed that message to you – a proclamation that shines in the
world still today the way the star shown above Bethlehem so many years ago. The baby
wrapped in swaddling clothes was sent to bear the sin of many. Have you believed our
message, have you seen the light of proclamation? May God grant you eyes to see and ears
to hear.