There are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true. —Soren Kierkegaard. "…truth is true even if nobody believes it, and falsehood is false even if everybody believes it. That is why truth does not yield to opinion, fashion, numbers, office, or sincerity–it is simply true and that is the end of it" – Os Guinness, Time for Truth, pg.39. “He that takes truth for his guide, and duty for his end, may safely trust to God’s providence to lead him aright.” – Blaise Pascal. "There is but one straight course, and that is to seek truth and pursue it steadily" – George Washington letter to Edmund Randolph — 1795. We live in a “post-truth” world. According to the dictionary, “post-truth” means, “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.” Simply put, we now live in a culture that seems to value experience and emotion more than truth. Truth will never go away no matter how hard one might wish. Going beyond the MSM idealogical opinion/bias and their low information tabloid reality show news with a distractional superficial focus on entertainment, sensationalism, emotionalism and activist reporting – this blogs goal is to, in some small way, put a plug in the broken dam of truth and save as many as possible from the consequences—temporal and eternal. "The further a society drifts from truth, the more it will hate those who speak it." – George Orwell “There are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true.” ― Soren Kierkegaard
For the amending of everything that is amiss in the church, the reviving of primitive Christianity and the power of godliness, and, to that end, the pouring out of the Spirit.
Lord, let your Spirit be poured out upon your churches from on high, and then the wilderness shall become a fruitful field; Isaiah 32:15(ESV) then justice shall return to the righteous, and all the upright in heart will follow it. Psalm 94:15(ESV)
Let what remains be put into order, Titus 1:5(ESV) and let every plant that is not of my heavenly Father’s planting be rooted up. Matthew 15:13(ESV)
Let the Lord whom I seek come to his temple like a refiner’s fire and fullers’ soap, and let him purify the sons of Levi and all the seed of Israel, and refine them like gold and silver, that they may bring offerings of righteousness to the LORD, pleasing offerings to the LORD as in the days of old, as in former years. Malachi 3:2-4(ESV)
Let religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, flourish and prevail everywhere: James 1:27(ESV) that kingdom of God among men, which is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Romans 14:17(ESV) O revive this work in the midst of the years, in the midst of the years make it known; Habakkuk 3:2(ESV) and let these times be times of reformation. Hebrews 9:10(ESV)
Luke 2:10-12 In this week’s studies, we see that the divine Messiah, the Lord and Savior of the world, has come.
Theme
Christ the Lord
You know, when you think about it, the Old Testament from beginning to end is really about this Messiah.
God told Moses that He would raise up a prophet like Moses from among his brothers, and that they were to listen to that coming prophet (Deut. 18:15).
God described the Messiah’s work through Isaiah: “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.” Isaiah also said that this coming One would be called “Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom forever.”
You know, it’s an interesting feature of this word, “Messiah” (“Anointed One”), that in the Old Testament period, there were three classes of people who were anointed. The prophets were anointed, the priests were anointed, and the kings were anointed. It’s also an interesting feature that neither one was to cross over into the bounds of the other.
But when the Messiah comes, the Anointed One, He is to be a Person who embraces all three of those offices in Himself. He’s going to be a prophet because, as God said to Moses, “He will speak my words. I will raise up under them a prophet like you who shall speak my words to the people.” He should be a priest because, as God said to Isaiah, He’s going to die. He’s going to bear in Himself the transgressions and iniquities of His people. He was also to be a king because, as God also said through Isaiah, “He’s going to reign on David’s throne and, unlike David, reign forever.”
You see, that’s another reason why this message of God to the shepherds was a message of joy– that the promised Savior had been born, the One who in Himself united all the offices and who in Himself is able to do all that you and I need.
And then there’s a third thing. Not only was this One who was born a Savior and the Christ, He was also the Lord. When this text says that the One who is born was the Lord, it means He was Jehovah. It’s an interesting feature of the language here that makes this particularly clear.
In the Greek text, the words “Christ” and “Lord” are both in the nominative case. Now it would be quite possible, and far more common, in the Greek language, for the word Christos to have been in the nominative case, as it is, but for the word, “Lord,” to be in the genitive case, which it is not. If “Christ” had been in the nominative case and “Lord” had been in the genitive case, then the translation would be “the Lord’s Christ”—that is, the Christ of the Lord, the Christ the Lord has sent. And I say that would be quite proper and was actually a phrase that was frequently used because that’s the kind of phrase you would use for a mere human savior. When the king is appointed by God, you’d call him “God’s anointed.” He would be the “Lord’s anointed,” but He wouldn’t be the anointed, the Lord. When a prophet is appointed by God, you’d call him “the Lord’s prophet.” That would be very, very significant, but the prophet would not be identified as the Lord. He would not be the prophet, who is the Lord.
But in our text, both “Christ” and “Lord” are in the nominative case, which means they’re equivalents. The only proper way to understand that in English is to put a comma in between. You have to read it this way, “He is Christ, the Lord.” That is, He is Christ, very God of very God. So when the angels made their announcement, they were making an announcement of the birth of God’s own Son. I think, too, that we need to apply this in terms of the lordship, and particularly because we have difficulty with that. “Lord” means “Master.” And it’s why the word is used as an equivalent for “God.” God is called “Lord” because He’s the Master of us all. So when we speak of Christ, the Lord, we speak of Christ, who is God. But we also speak of Christ, who is our Master.
Study Questions
What three kinds of people were anointed in the Old Testament?
How does Jesus unite all three offices in Himself?
Explain how the grammar behind the use of “Lord” points to Jesus’ deity.
Application
Application: Do you live as if Christ really is your master? Do you think and behave in ways that show that you live in complete dependence upon Him, and that your chief aim is to honor, serve, and obey Him?
For Further Study: Download and listen for free to James Boice’s message, “The Most Joyful of the Carols.” (Discount will be applied at checkout.)
The Parables of Jesus are some of the most delightful passages to read in Scripture. Within them, Jesus, the God-man, weaves together powerful stories filled with symbols, metaphors, and illustrations that only the greatest Story-Teller would be able to tell. Something in the Parables seems to appeal to that God-given desire all people experience for “story.” Whether a child is being a read a story at bedtime, an adult is sitting down with a book, or people gather around a television or a cinema screen, there is little doubt that people enjoy stories.
These Parables, however, are not merely told by Christ to entertain. Rather, they deliver to us moral precepts, key details about the gospel, and shed light on the very nature of God’s Kingdom itself.
Little surprise, then, that the Parables are quite popular accounts in the Bible. Some of them have even saturated the public zeitgeist in such a way that just simply referencing one character (the Prodigal Son, for example), or a small detail (something like a Mustard Seed), will bring to recollection various parables which Jesus told. But with such familiarity and appreciation has come a serious misunderstanding and misapplication of the Parables.
Misunderstanding and Misapplying Parables
Let me give one example. In the Parable of the “Good Samaritan” (Lk. 10:25-37), we see Jesus explaining that the Christian must love our neighbor as ourselves. A question is posed to our Lord: Who is our neighbor? Thus, Jesus weaves together a tale of Jewish man who is attacked, robbed, and left for dead. Rather than experiencing love from a Jewish priest, he finds the man passes him by. Again, when a Levite comes across the dying man, he is shown no love, but again left for dead. Finally, a man does come to help and save him, but he is an enemy of the Jews—a Samaritan!
Many people read this parable and conclude, “I need to do nice things for others.” But to simply stop there is to miss the wider context. Jesus is not only providing an example of what it means to love our neighbor, but also revealing to us that our neighbor is not simply those who look or act like us, but even our enemies. For the Jew who originally asked, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus’ parable would have been shocking.
But we still cannot stop with just a moral understanding. There is a redemptive aspect to this parable, too. For, you see, we have this nasty habit of attempting to read ourselves into the heroic characters. Thus, when we read of the Good Samaritan, we like to think of ourselves as filling his shoes. But the reality is that we are not the Good Samaritan. In a redemptive context, we are the man dying along the road, being passed over by all those we thought would save us. We are also like those passing over others, not wanting to be bothered with their plight. Jesus, however, does what we cannot do for ourselves. He is the Good Samaritan of the Parable—despised and rejected by men (Is. 53:3), but mighty to save and loving enough to do just that.
This is just one example of the many layers a Parable may contain. How do we rightly interpret these Parables, though?
Getting Our Exegesis Right
There are two key elements that every preacher (and interpreter) of Scripture must always keep at the forefront of our minds: 1. Context is key; 2. Christ is King. If we can remember those two simple statements, we will be in a far better position to understand Scripture than those who haphazardly open their Bibles, pick a passage at random, and read the text as though it were a fortune cookie. No other book is read this way. In fact, every single book in existence has several guiding principles that help us in understanding what we are reading.
Yet, various parts of Scripture are often misunderstood, misapplied, and twisted into meaning something that they were never originally intended to teach. Some people do this out of ignorance and confusion, but others act out of more nefarious purposes. We who are genuine followers of Christ and teachers of His Word have a lofty task before us, then: Teach and feed the sheep with pure doctrine, while warning those who are straying after falsehoods, and rebuking those whose aim it is to lead the sheep away.
Right preaching and teaching, however, begins with right exegesis. Exegetical methods simply describe the various practices of interpreting a biblical text to bring forth an understanding of its true meaning. For example, many people today speak of the “literal-grammatical-historical” method of understanding the Bible. This method of hermeneutical interpretation is all about paying close attention to the grammar of the Bible, as well as the historical context in which a text occurs, to come to a “literal” understanding of what the Bible means.
Another well-known method of exegesis within the Reformed tradition is the “historical-redemptive” method. This method attempts to view Scripture through the lens of the redemption narrative, reading the Bible as one cohesive and unfolding story about Jesus Christ. Therefore, texts are examined with Christ always in view.
The method I was trained in and now teach others is a combination of the two. Things like grammar, literary genre, historical context, and the unfolding story of redemption always pointing the reader to Christ are all things to always have in view. When we do this, we do not divorce redemptive history from moral teachings, but instead see that God has woven together a cohesive whole—even in the Parables.
Things go awry when we fail to do these things. Recently, I was counseling a man who had done something similar to the “fortune cookie” reading practice. He had come across a passage of Scripture, which he had read at random, and believed that the text had indicated that he needed to do something quite drastic that, in reality, God would never command in the Bible. As we talked through these things, I explained that reading the Bible is a spiritual exercise, but it is not magic. God intends for us to understand what we read, and though He will grant us wisdom and understanding through the Holy Spirit (Prov. 2:1-6), He means for us to put forth the diligent effort of studying the Scriptures to show ourselves approved before Him (2 Tim. 2:15).
Peter likewise commands us to be careful in our studying and interpretation of Scripture, that we be not swept away with false doctrines or ideas:
You therefore, beloved, knowing this beforehand, take care that you are not carried away with the error of lawless people and lose your own stability. But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen (2 Pet. 3:17-18).
When we are diligent to study and understand the Bible, we grow in grace and knowledge, to the glory of God. The best exegetical practice—whether in the Parables of Christ or elsewhere—is the practice that remembers context (literary genre, grammar, historical context, location in the Bible, surrounding passages, systematic theology, etc.) is key, and Christ is King. All of Scripture points us to Christ and His story of redemption, again and again. The Parables ought to be read as Parables, and not as poetry, history, or the epistles. They are unique. But they are also part of Scripture, and thus worthy of our fullest attention.
There is no easy way to understand them. The hard work of exegesis can never be removed from our study. But it is always worth it.
Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see… And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.
Hebrews 11:1,6
In Hebrews there is an element which is regarded as essential to the Christian life, and that is faith. It is what makes the Christian different from the non-Christian. Henry David Thoreau, once said, If I seem to walk out of step with others, it is because I am listening to another drum beat. That is an exact description of faith: Christians walk as though listening to another drum beat.
This chapter centers on what faith is. Faith is greatly misunderstood and there are many peculiar ideas of what it is. Faith is not positive thinking. Faith is not a hunch that is followed. Faith is not hoping for the best, hoping that everything will turn out alright. Faith is not a feeling of optimism. Faith is none of these things, though all of them have been identified as faith.
What is faith then? Faith begins with things hoped for, that is, it starts with a sense of discontent. You can never have much faith unless you are dissatisfied with the way you are now, and are longing for something better. That is why, all through the Bible, the great enemy of faith is a complacent spirit, an attitude of self-satisfaction with the status quo. But if you are dissatisfied, if you are looking for something better, then you are in a position to exercise faith.
Then comes the conviction of things not seen — not only a desire for something better, but an awareness of something else: That is faith. It means we become aware that we are surrounded by an invisible kingdom, that which is seen is not the whole explanation of life, there are realities which cannot be seen or touched, and yet which are as real and as vital as anything we can see. This is so beautifully seen in the words and teachings of our Lord Jesus. He speaks of God the Father as though he were standing right there. He does not see the universe as an impersonal machine, grinding and clanking along, as science so frequently does, but he sees it as an invisible, but very real, spiritual kingdom.
Again Verse 6 says the same: He that comes to God must believe that he is, that God exists. There are some who say, That’s the hard part. No, it is not. The easiest thing in the world to do is to believe that God exists. It requires effort to disbelieve. Everyone starts out believing God exists. It is only when they are carefully trained to disbelieve that any come to the place of declaring God does not exist. Light from God is streaming in on every side and all we need to do is open our eyes to see it. That is why children have no problem with this. The concept of God ought to be one of the most difficult ideas for children to grasp, since God cannot be seen. But children have no difficulty at all in believing that God exists.
Are you a person of faith? Is there a hunger for something better in your life? Is there a conviction that God is ready to answer your cry? In fact, he has already answered it, in Christ. Are you ready then to commit yourself to obey what he says, to accept his verdict, his viewpoint, as the true one despite the clamant cries that will pour into your ear from every side, saying this is wrong? That is what faith is, and if you are that kind of person you can join this parade of faith.
Father, thank you for this revelation of what faith is today. How I feel the need of it, as I live in the midst of a confused and bewildered society. Grant me the simple faith of a child. Teach me to live according to it, though it be through difficulties, trials, heartache and tears.
Life Application
Are you hopeful for that which you hunger for — your not-yet-completed maturity in Christ in your life? Will you rest in the indwelling Christ to work out His life in your salvation, bringing what He has promised to completion? ‘The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it.’ — 1 Thes. 5:24 (NIV)
11 Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. 2 This is what the ancients were commended for.
3 By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.
4 By faith Abel brought God a better offering than Cain did. By faith he was commended as righteous, when God spoke well of his offerings. And by faith Abel still speaks, even though he is dead.
5 By faith Enoch was taken from this life, so that he did not experience death: “He could not be found, because God had taken him away.” For before he was taken, he was commended as one who pleased God. 6 And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.
7 By faith Noah, when warned about things not yet seen, in holy fear built an ark to save his family. By his faith he condemned the world and became heir of the righteousness that is in keeping with faith.
We are at the end of our look at the life of Jesus through scripture. The first section of His life was seen through verses focused on prophecy, arrival, and early life.
The next section of verses looked at Him as the Son, second person of the Trinity.
Now it’s the last day. It’s Christmas. Christ willingly left glory, perfect communion with the other Persons of the Trinity, the worship of angels and the dead in Christ, to incarnate into flesh. Do you realize His choice to incarnate is a permanent one? That he will forever be in flesh? Forever “looking like he has been slain”? (Revelation 5:6). What a God we serve!
As we finish the last verse, we are looking through the lens of scripture at the hope and optimism of His promised return and that all will be made new.
On to today’s picture verse.
Matthew Henry’s Commentary explains:
“Here is, 1. Christ welcomed into the upper world (v. 19): After the Lord had spoken what he had to say to his disciples, he went up into heaven, in a cloud; which we have a particular account of (Acts 1:9), and he had not only an admission, but an abundant entrance, into his kingdom there; he was received up, received in state, with loud acclamations of the heavenly hosts; and he sat on the right hand of God: sitting in a posture of rest, for now he had finished his work, and a posture of rule, for now he took possession of his kingdom; he sat at the right hand of God, which denotes the sovereign dignity he is advanced to, and the universal agency he is entrusted with. Whatever God does concerning us, gives to us, or accepts from us, it is by his Son. Now he is glorified with the glory he had before the world.”
Henry, M. (1994). Matthew Henry’s commentary on the whole Bible: complete and unabridged in one volume (p. 1818). Hendrickson.
Further Reading:
Ligonier Devotional: Seated at God’s right hand Our study of Christ’s ascension to heaven has thus far emphasized the critical nature of this event to our Savior coming into His kingdom. In line with the prophecy of Daniel 7:13–14, Jesus predicted that He would return to the immediate presence of His Father and receive the kingdom that was appointed for Him upon the completion of His earthly ministry (Matt. 24:29–30). … In addition to Jesus’ ascension and Jerusalem’s destruction, the session, or seating, of Christ at the Father’s right hand is also a part of His coming into His kingdom. Since the gospel tells us about the kingdom of God, we must understand the enthronement of our King.
Grace to You: The Forever Exalted Christ When Jesus went into heaven, He did what no Old Testament priest ever did—He sat down. They never sat down while ministering because their work was never done. But Christ’s work was done; He had accomplished the work of redemption on the cross, and therefore it was appropriate for Him to sit down. He remains on the right hand of the throne of God as the believer’s great High Priest and Intercessor (Hebrews 7:25; 9:24).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thirty Days of Jesus Series-
Thirty Days of Jesus Series-
Introduction/Background
Prophecies:
Day 1: The Virgin shall conceive Day 2: A shoot from Jesse Day 3: God sent His Son in the fullness of time Day 4: Marry her, she will bear a Son
Birth & Early Life-
Day 5: The Babe has arrived! Day 6: The Glory of Jesus Day 7: Magi seek the Child Day 8: The Magi Offer gifts & worship Day 9: The Child Grew Day 10- the Boy Jesus at the Temple Day 11: He was Obedient Day 12: The Son! Day 13: God is pleased with His Son
The Second Person of the Trinity-
Day 14: Propitiation Day 15: The Gift of Eternal Life Day 16: Kingdom of Darkness to Light Day 17: Jesus’ Preeminence Day 18: The Highest King Day 19: He emptied Himself
Jesus’ Ministries
Day 20: Jesus as The Teacher Day 21: The Good Shepherd Day 22: The Intercessor Day 23: The Compassionate Healer
Attributes Day 24: Jesus’ Omniscience Day 25: Jesus’ Authority Day 26: Jesus’ Sinlessness
The End of all Things
Day 27: He rises Day 28: Resurrection of First Importance Day 29: He ascended
What use is it, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but he has no works? Can that faith save him? (2:14)
My brethren perhaps refers especially to James’s fellow Jews, but he is also addressing the church at large. If someone says is the phrase that governs the interpretation of the entire passage. James does not say that this person actually has saving faith, but that he claims to have it. No particular kind of faith is mentioned, but the context indicates that it refers to acknowledgment that one believes the basic truths of the gospel. A person making such a claim would believe in such things as the existence of God, Scripture as the Word of God, and, presumably, in the messiahship of Christ and in His atoning death, resurrection, and ascension. In any case, the theological orthodoxy of such a person’s faith is not in question; the issue is that he has no works. The verb form in that phrase describes someone who continually lacks evidence to support the claim of faith he routinely makes. Likewise, no particular type of works is specified; but the obvious meaning is that of righteous behavior conforming to God’s revealed Word that is pleasing and acceptable to Him. Some of the righteous and godly works James has already mentioned are endurance (1:3), perseverance under trial (1:12), purity of life (1:21), obedience to Scripture (1:22–23), compassion for the needy (1:27), and impartiality (2:1–9). Later he mentions such things as acts of compassion (2:15), control of the tongue (3:2–12), humility (4:6, 10), truthfulness (4:11), and patience (5:8). The question Can that faith save him? is not offered to dispute the importance of faith, but to oppose the idea that just any kind of faith can save (cf. Matt. 7:16–18). The grammatical form of the question calls for a negative answer—“No, it cannot save.” A profession of faith that is devoid of righteous works cannot save a person, no matter how strongly it may be proclaimed. As already noted, it is not that some amount of good works added to true faith can save a person, but rather that faith that is genuine and saving will inevitably produce good works. No New Testament writer is more adamant that salvation is solely by God’s grace working through man’s faith than Paul, and no writing of Paul makes that clearer than does his letter to the church at Rome. Yet in that letter he unequivocally asserts that God
will render to each person according to his deeds: to those who by perseverance in doing good seek for glory and honor and immortality, eternal life; but to those who are selfishly ambitious and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, wrath and indignation. There will be tribulation and distress for every soul of man who does evil, of the Jew first and also of the Greek, but glory and honor and peace to everyone who does good, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.… It is not the hearers of the Law who are just before God, but the doers of the Law will be justified. For when Gentiles who do not have the Law do instinctively the things of the Law, these, not having the Law, are a law to themselves, in that they show the work of the Law written in their hearts, their conscience bearing witness and their thoughts alternately accusing or else defending them, on the day when, according to my gospel, God will judge the secrets of men through Christ Jesus. (Rom. 2:6–10, 13–16)
James is therefore obviously not in conflict with Paul about the basis of salvation, as some interpreters have maintained. They are not standing face-to-face confronting each other, but are standing back-to-back fighting two common enemies. Paul opposes works-righteous legalism; James opposes easy-believism. But both men make clear that we are going to be judged on the basis of what we have done, for that is a sure indicator of genuine salvation. “Do not marvel at this,” Jesus said; “for an hour is coming, in which all who are in the tombs will hear His voice, and will come forth; those who did the good deeds to a resurrection of life, those who committed the evil deeds to a resurrection of judgment” (John 5:28–29). In a passage already cited, Paul delineates in the clearest possible way the proper relationship between faith and works. After declaring that “by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast,” he immediately adds, “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them” (Eph. 2:8–10). In another place, he says that in all things believers are to “show [themselves] to be an example of good deeds” (Titus 2:7). Stated negatively, “Everyone who names the name of the Lord is to abstain from wickedness” (2 Tim. 2:19b), and those who “profess to know God, but by their deeds … deny Him, [are] detestable and disobedient and worthless for any good deed” (Titus 1:16). Where there is true salvation, where sovereign grace reaches down to regenerate and transform a person from sinner to saint, God will create in the soul of that person new longings to forsake sin and self and gladly serve the Lord Jesus Christ and obey His divine standards of righteousness. The moment that Zaccheus believed in Jesus, he said, “Behold, Lord, half of my possessions I will give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will give back four times as much” (Luke 19:8). When pagans in Ephesus trusted in Christ and were “confessing and disclosing their practices … many of those who practiced magic brought their books together and began burning them in the sight of everyone; and they counted up the price of them and found it fifty thousand pieces of silver” (Acts 19:18–19). By the indwelling Spirit working through their new natures, they instinctively knew that occult practices were evil and had no place in their redeemed lives. In the same way, many former pagans in Thessalonica had “turned to God from idols to serve a living and true God” (1 Thess. 1:9). It is not that newborn believers immediately understand the full implications of the gospel and know everything they should believe and everything they should and should not do. Those things come with ever-increasing awareness as one grows in knowledge of the Word and in fellowship with the Lord. But there is an immediate and new spiritual and moral orientation that the Lord gives every child who is born into His family and kingdom. No one is saved without becoming a new creation, and, by the power of the indwelling Holy Spirit, the new creation produces such righteous works as repentance, submission, obedience, and love of God and fellow believers. Salvation does not produce immediate perfection, but a new direction. The new disposition that hates sin, loves the Lord, and seeks to know Him and obey His will begins to manifest itself in behavior.
MacArthur, J. F., Jr. (1998). James (pp. 124–126). Moody Press.
What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? James begins by posing two direct questions which the reader can answer only with a negative reply. Faith without works is useless to man, for it cannot bring him salvation. Does this mean that faith does not save man? Paul writes, “However, to the man who does not work but trusts God who justifies the wicked, his faith is credited as righteousness” (Rom. 4:5). Is Paul saying one thing and James another? Not at all. Rather, James looks at the one side of the coin called faith and Paul at the other. To put the matter in different words, James explains the active side of faith and Paul the passive side. In a sense, the writers say the same thing even though they view faith from different perspectives. Paul addresses the Jew who seeks to obtain salvation by keeping the law of God. To him Paul says, “Not the works of the law but faith in Christ brings salvation.” By contrast, James directs his remarks to the person who says that he has faith but fails to put it into practice. Consider these points:
a. Faith without deeds
What does James mean by faith? Certainly he is not referring to a doctrinal statement that is called a confession of faith, for example, the testimony Jesus is Lord (1 Cor. 12:3). The difference between expressing faith in a confession—reciting the Apostles’ Creed—and actively confessing our faith in word and deed is that faith expressed in a confession can result in mere intellectual assent without deeds to confirm it. This is what James has in mind when he asks, “What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds?” James is specific. He says, “if a man claims to have faith.” He does not write, “if a man has faith.” James intimates that the faith of this particular person is not a genuine trust in Jesus Christ. In fact, that man’s claim to faith is hollow. If he only nods his head in assent to the words of a doctrinal statement, his faith is intellectual, barren, and worthless. Faith in God through Jesus Christ is a certainty that flows from our hearts, emanates from our minds, and translates into deeds. Vibrant faith of word and deed, spoken and performed out of love for God and our neighbor, saves us.
Kistemaker, S. J., & Hendriksen, W. (1953–2001). Exposition of James and the Epistles of John (Vol. 14, pp. 87–88). Baker Book House.
2:14. For James, being “quick to hear” (1:19) meant to be prompt to obey God’s command to do good deeds that benefit others. But the readers had neglected good works, content to claim their justification before God by faith alone. James agreed that justification before God was by faith alone. But believers must add works to their faith to develop maturity. Then they will be justified (called righteous) by their works in the eyes of other people (cf. Mt 5:16). A person who says he has faith finds it easy to talk his faith while lacking useful deeds. Bible teachers may be in mind (cf. 3:1–12). The question Can [“that” is not in Gk.] faith save him? demands a negative answer in Greek (“Faith cannot save him, can it?”) and appears to contradict justification by faith alone (Rm 3:27–28; 4:4–5; Gl 2:16; Eph 2:8–9). But James’s use of the Greek verb “save” (soizo) is flexible. This is evident in 5:15, where James uses the word in a way that does not mean “delivered from eternal judgment.” Contextually, “save” in v. 14 is equivalent to the believer’s triumph over a stern evaluation (“judgment”) by God mentioned in 2:13 and 3:1 (an inclusio). (Also see comments on “save” at 1:21.) So the phrase, “Can faith [alone] save him?” asks if a believer without acts of mercy will be able to escape a strict evaluation at the believer’s final performance review.
Hart, J. F. (2014). James. In M. A. Rydelnik & M. Vanlaningham (Eds.), The moody bible commentary (p. 1951). Moody Publishers.
Say not thou, I will recompense evil; but wait on the Lord, and he shall save thee. (Proverbs 20:22)
Be not in haste. Let anger cool down. Say nothing and do nothing to avenge yourself. You will be sure to act unwisely if you take up the cudgels and fight your own battles; and, certainly, you will not show the spirit of the Lord Jesus. It is nobler to forgive and let the offense pass. To let an injury rankle in your bosom and to meditate revenge is to keep old wounds open and to make new ones. Better forget and forgive.
Peradventure, you say that you must do something or be a great loser; then do what this morning’s promise advises: “Wait on the Lord, and he shall save thee.” This advice will not cost you money but is worth far more, Be calm and quiet. Wait upon the Lord; tell Him your grievance; spread Rabshakeh’s letter before the Lord, and this of itself will be an ease to your burdened mind. Besides, there is the promise “He shall save thee.” God will find a way of deliverance for you. How He will do it neither you nor I can guess, but do it He will, If the Lord saves you, this will be a deal better than getting into petty quarrels and covering yourself with filth by wrestling with the unclean, Be no more angry. Leave your suit with the Judge of all.
While they were there, the days were completed for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. (2:6–7)
Luke described the most profoundly significant event in all of history up to that point—the birth of the God-man, Jesus Christ—in startlingly simple, straightforward, unembellished, even sparse language. While Joseph and Mary were in Bethlehem, the days were completed for her to give birth. Luke did not say how long they had been in Bethlehem, or whether they were still waiting to register, or stayed there after registering because Mary’s time to give birth was near. He gave no description of where the birth took place, except to say that it was not in the inn (see the discussion below). Luke simply said that Mary gave birth to her firstborn son. No angels appeared, as they later would to the shepherds. No heavenly trumpets rang. No voice from heaven announced the birth of the Son of God. Alone except for her young husband, far from her family and friends, in the most primitive of conditions, a young girl gave birth. Thus did the second person of the Trinity step from eternity into time and space. Luke carefully noted that Jesus was Mary’s firstborn (prōtotokos), not her only (monogenēs) son (cf. his use of monogenēs to refer to an only child in 7:12; 8:42; 9:38). The teaching of the Roman Catholic Church that Jesus was Mary’s only child and that she remained a perpetual virgin until her death, is clearly a denial of Scripture. Matthew 1:25 says that Joseph “kept her a virgin until she gave birth to a Son” (emphasis added). That strongly implies that after Christ’s birth, they had normal marital relations. It is also revealed that Mary gave birth to other children, Jesus’ half brothers and sisters (Matt. 12:46–47; 13:55–56; John 2:12; 7:3, 5, 10; Acts 1:14). As the firstborn, Jesus had the primary right to the family inheritance (cf. Gen. 43:33; Deut. 21:15–17; 1 Chron. 5:1; 2 Chron. 21:3). Joseph was not wealthy (cf. the discussion of 2:21–24 in chapter 14 of this volume), and had no great estate to bequeath to his firstborn son. But what he did pass along was the right to the throne of Israel (Matt. 1:1–16). As was customary, Mary wrapped her baby in cloths. Strips of fabric were used to bind a baby snugly for warmth, security, and to keep the limbs straight. The point is that Jesus was treated like any other baby. He was not dressed in royal robes but in the normal wrappings that other babies wore. Having borne her Son and wrapped Him, Mary laid Him in a manger. The reference to a manger has given rise to the tradition that Jesus was born in a stable. The Bible nowhere states that, however. Phatnē (manger) is the word for a feeding trough. Such troughs could be found anywhere animals were kept, not only in stables. The Bible does not specifically say where Mary gave birth to Jesus although a tradition, dating back to the middle of the second century, says that it was in a cave. While that is possible, since caves were sometimes used to shelter animals, there is no way to verify it. Wherever the couple stayed, it was not in the inn, because there was no room for them there. Part of the Christmas legend is the heartless innkeeper who turns away a young woman about to give birth. But kataluma (inn) is not the normal Greek word for an inn (pandocheion, which Luke used in 10:34), but rather a general term for a shelter, or lodging place (it is translated “guest room” in 22:11). Exactly what that lodging place was is not clear, but it may have been a public shelter or campground, perhaps a place where caravans stopped. But with the overcrowding brought about by the census, there was no room for Joseph and Mary even in such a makeshift shelter. As a result, Mary was forced to give birth in the only place available—the place where the travelers’ animals were kept. When Jesus came into the world, He was born in the most comfortless conditions—a smelly, filthy, chilly shelter, surrounded by noisy animals. It was a fitting entrance for the “Son of Man [who had] nowhere to lay His head” (Luke 9:58); the one who “was in the world, and the world was made through Him, and the world did not know Him” (John 1:10); for the one “who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and [was]made in the likeness of men” (Phil. 2:6–7); for the “Son of Man [who] did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many” (Matt. 20:28) by bearing “our sins in His body on the cross, so that we might die to sin and live to righteousness” (1 Peter 2:24). His humble birth was appropriate for Jesus, who came to die as a substitute in the place of lowly, humble, wretched sinners. As the writer of the hymn “Ivory Palaces” put it,
Out of the ivory palaces,
Into a world of woe,
Only His great, eternal love
Made my Savior go.
MacArthur, J. F., Jr. (2009). Luke 1–5 (pp. 148–150). Moody Publishers.
6, 7. And while they were there the days were fulfilled for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in strips of cloth and laid him down in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. In connection with this simple yet all-important passage note the following: a. The expression “While they were there the days were fulfilled [or: completed]” may mean that the two spent a few days in Bethlehem before the child was born. On the other hand, the words may simply place special stress on the fact that Jesus was indeed born in Bethlehem: the great event took place while they were there. b. “The days were fulfilled.” The birth occurred “in the fulness of time” (Gal. 4:4). In this particular case, however, the meaning may simply be that the birth took place when the normal period between conception and delivery had expired. Even though the conception itself was a miracle, the process of development within the womb was allowed to run its usual course. c. “her firstborn son.” Note: not “her only son,” but “her firstborn son.” The natural explanation is certainly this, that after Mary had given birth to Jesus she continued to bear children. The very names of Jesus’ brothers are mentioned in the New Testament (Matt. 13:55). The fact that he had brothers is also clear from Matt. 12:46, 47 (cf. Mark 3:31, 32; Luke 8:19, 20); John 2:12; 7:3, 5, 10; Acts 1:14. And Matt. 13:56 makes reference to his sisters. d. “She wrapped him in strips of cloth.” Note: she wrapped him. Does this mean that Mary, having just given birth to her firstborn, now immediately with her own hands swaddled her babe? Not necessarily! No more than Herod’s statement, “John I beheaded” (Luke 9:9), means that he in person had wielded the executioner’s ax; and no more than Pilate’s declaration, “I will therefore punish … him” (Luke 23:16), means that he intended to do this himself. If we assume that Mary gave the directions, and Joseph (or anyone else) carried them out, we have probably done full justice to the passage. As to the manner in which a little one was swaddled see B. S. Easton’s article “Swaddle, Swaddling-Band,” I.S.B.E., Vol. V, p. 2874, though whether exactly this procedure was followed also in the present case may well be questioned. Let it suffice to say that with strips of cloth the baby was wrapped round and round tightly and securely. More about this in a moment. e. “… and laid him down in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” About this “inn” there are various, sometimes sharply contrasting, interpretations. Note the following theories: (1) The inn or caravansary was built around the four sides of an inner court. It generally had two stories. On the second story, reached by a primitive staircase, the rooms for the travelers were located. Those who stopped at the inn carried along their own blanket and pillow. If a person had no blanket, he could wrap himself up in his robe. On the ground floor the animals were stabled. Here also the cargoes that were transported along the caravan route could be temporarily stored. And here the servants, in charge of the pack animals (donkeys, camels), found rest for the night. It was in such a “stable” that Joseph and Mary found lodging when there was no longer any room in the “inn” proper, the second story. (2) Akin to this is the explanation of A. T. Robertson, Word Pictures, p. 23, who, however, pictures the stables as being “on one side of the square, outside the wall.” He is careful to point out that the manger in which the child was laid was either connected with the inn or was in a cave. (3) The manger was in a cave, but that cave was definitely part of—or at least associated with—the inn. (4) The inn was filled to overflowing: the upstairs was filled with weary guests. Even on the roof there was no room left. And downstairs the servants were crowding the courtyard, bedding down the animals for the night. At the suggestion of a villager Joseph and Mary then found shelter in a cave-stable. (5) The rendering inn is wrong. The right translation is “stopping place” (thus Lenski), or “upper room” (thus Christie, I.S.B.E., Vol. III, p. 1470, and several others). Their reasoning is that the original (Greek) word here rendered “inn” means “upper room” in Mark 14:14 (= Luke 22:11); so, if it has that meaning there, why not here? As Lenski sees it, Joseph and Mary tried to find lodging with some relatives, but since all the extra space in their house proper had already been given away, these relatives put their guests up in an adjoining shed, where asses were kept. Comment on theories (1) through (5). Any of the first four theories may be correct. They have in common their support of the rendering inn in 2:7. Why was there no room in the inn? Was it because Bethlehem was overcrowded with people that wanted to be registered? That is the reason often given. It may be right, but is probably wrong or at least incomplete. Deserving of consideration is the fact that the town just now was filled with men charged with the responsibility of taking the census: officials and soldiers of the Roman government. It is well known that since Augustus and those who carried out his decree were aware of the fact that the Jews, because of religious scruples, were terribly afraid of coming into contact with non-Jews, the census officials were to be quartered, as far as ever possible, not in private homes but in public places, in inns for example. It is not surprising, therefore, that it was exactly the inn in which there was no room for Joseph and Mary. This also shows that the rendering inn is probably correct, and that theory (5) is probably defective. For more on this see the note on these verses on page 148. The owner of the inn should not be charged with cruelty. Room was simply lacking, except in the inn-stable or cave-stable. The belief that the travelers from Nazareth took up quarters “in a certain cave” dates all the way back to Justin Martyr (about A.D. 114–165). See his Dialogue with Trypho, ch. 78. A similar view was expressed by Origen, Against Celsus I.51. Helena, the mother of Constantine, built a church on the presumed site of the nativity. The present church was built by Justinian. In its interior the steps on either side of the altar lead to a cave below, where the supposed birthplace of Jesus is indicated by a star. Did the stable in which the infant was born actually stand there? This can neither be proved nor disproved. It is not very important. One thing is certain: the glitter, splendor, and aroma of the present site do not truly represent the circumstances that obtained when this child was born. It cannot be emphasized too strongly that our Lord was born in a stable and was laid down in a manger, that is, a feeding trough for animals, possibly a niche carved out in the cave wall.
“Greetings, you highly favored one, the Lord is with you.”
“There was no room for them in the inn.”
“He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.”
“She laid him down in a manger.”
Why these contrasts? The answer is given in 2 Cor. 8:9: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, that you through his poverty might become rich.” See also John 3:16; Rom. 8:32. It is not enough to be able to give a satisfactory interpretation of the nativity account, the Christmas story. We should be so deeply impressed with the love of God here revealed that we feel what the poet felt when he wrote:
For me, dear Jesus, was thine incarnation,
Thy mortal sorrow and thy life’s oblation;
Thy death of anguish and thy bitter passion,
For my salvation.
Johann Heermann Tr. Robert Bridges
The baby was born in a stable, not in a palace. It was laid in a feeding trough for animals, not in a pretty bassinet. All this spells poverty, deprivation. And yet, and yet! There is another side to the story. Love shines through. This infant at least was securely wrapped in pieces of cloth. Not so the child mentioned in Ezek. 16:4. From the very start that little one was thoroughly rejected, left to die in the field if God had not intervened. Also, many children, even today, have no bed to sleep in. Here, on the contrary, it takes but little imagination to see Joseph putting some straw into that manger, so that the baby would be able to rest in comfort. To be sure, as a grownup Jesus would be “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” Indescribable agonies would be his portion. Nevertheless, again and again during his ministry a voice would ring out from heaven, “Thou art my Son, my Beloved; with thee I am well pleased.” So here also this same love is revealed. And in a moment the angels are going to celebrate the infant’s birth in song.
Hendriksen, W., & Kistemaker, S. J. (1953–2001). Exposition of the Gospel According to Luke (Vol. 11, pp. 142–146). Baker Book House.
for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. (2:11–12)
Having reassured the stunned and frightened shepherds that he came bearing good news, the angel then gave them the details of that good news. That very day, in the fullness of time (Gal. 4:4), history’s most significant birth had taken place. It had happened in the most unlikely of places—in the city of David (the tiny hamlet of Bethlehem; see the discussion of 2:4 in chap. 12 of this volume). The angel prefaced his threefold description of the newborn Child by telling the shepherds that the One of whom he spoke had been born for them. Collectively, as noted above, Jesus is the Savior of both Jews and Gentiles; individually, He is the Savior of everyone who believes in Him (John 3:16). The angel did not give the Child’s earthly name; Savior, Christ and Lord are all titles. But since the name “Jesus” means “the Lord is salvation,” its meaning is encompassed by the term Savior. The description of Jesus as Savior is an apt one, since the reason He was born was to “save His people from their sins” (Matt. 1:21; cf. Luke 19:10). That obvious truth is often obscured in contemporary presentations of the gospel. Too often Jesus is presented as the One who will rescue people from unfulfillment in their marriages, families, or jobs; from a debilitating habit they cannot overcome on their own; or from a sense of purposelessness in life. But while relief in those areas may be a by-product of salvation, it is not its primary intent. Mankind’s true problem, of which those issues are only symptoms, is sin. Everyone (Rom. 3:10, 23) is guilty of breaking God’s holy law and deserves eternal punishment in hell. The true gospel message is that Jesus Christ came into the world to rescue people from sin and guilt—not psychological, artificial guilt feelings, but true, God-imposed guilt that damns to hell. Christ is an exalted title for a baby born in such humble circumstances. The name and its Old Testament counterpart, Messiah (Dan. 9:25–26), both mean “anointed one”; one placed in a high office and worthy of exaltation and honor. Jesus was anointed first in the sense that He is God’s appointed King, the “King of kings” (Rev. 17:14; 19:16), who will sit on David’s throne and reign forever, as Gabriel told Mary (1:32–33). He was also anointed to be the great High Priest (Heb. 3:1) for His people; the mediator between them and God (1 Tim. 2:5) who makes intercession for them (Heb. 7:25). Finally, Jesus was anointed as a prophet, God’s final and greatest spokesman (Heb. 1:1–2). Lord in a human sense is a term of respect and esteem, given to someone in a position of leadership and authority. Especially it was the title borne by slave owners; kurios (Lord) and doulos (slave) were connected. To call someone Lord was to acknowledge your subservience. In the New Testament Sarah called Abraham lord, acknowledging his authority over her as her husband (1 Peter 3:6). But in this context Lord is no mere elevated human designation; it is a divine title. To say that this Child is Lord is to say that He is God. When used in reference to Jesus Christ, kurios (Lord) conveys all that is implied by the tetragrammaton YHWH (“Yahweh,” which the Septuagint translates kurios)—the name of God (cf. Ex. 3:14–15). The most fundamental and basic confession of Christianity is, “Jesus is Lord” (1 Cor. 12:3). No one who does not affirm Christ’s full deity and equality with God the Father can be saved for, as He warned the Jews, “Unless you believe that I am [God], you will die in your sins” (John 8:24. For a discussion of the “I am” statements in John’s gospel in reference to Christ’s deity, see John 1–11, The MacArthur New Testament Commentary [Chicago: Moody, 2006], 14, 348). Romans 10:9 declares that “if you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.” The angel then gave the shepherds a sign by which they could recognize this remarkable Child: they would find find the baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. That the baby would be wrapped in cloths would not single out Jesus for the shepherds, since that was done to all Jewish babies (see the discussion of 2:7 in the previous chapter of this volume). To fail to properly care for a newborn baby, including wrapping it, was unthinkable (cf. Ezek. 16:1–5). But Jewish mothers did not usually put their newborn babies in a manger, so that would narrow the shepherds’ search to the Child of whom the angel spoke. The stark contrast between Jesus’ exalted status as Savior, Messiah, and God and the humble circumstances of His birth emphasizes the magnitude of His “[emptying] Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men” (Phil. 2:7).
MacArthur, J. F., Jr. (2009). Luke 1–5 (pp. 158–160). Moody Publishers.
Ver. 12. And this shall be a sign unto you.—What the angels said to the shepherds was, “This shall be the sign unto you; ye shall find a babe,” a babe like any other, “wrapped in swaddling clothes,” differing from other babes only in the lowliness of His birth, “lying in a manger.” The absence of any adventitious source of interest, anything awe-inspiring in the circumstances of the birth of Christ, was no mere casual incident; it was eminently significant, characteristic of His life, a symbol of His sway. The identification of “signs” with “wonders” was the common error of the Jews. All Israel was expectant of the Messiah. The reason why they received Him not was that they could not recognize the Divine in the ordinary. A babe was born in Bethlehem: only by those who shared the mother’s prophetic insight was the mystery of God’s interposition seen in His birth. Angels sang of His advent; their song was mute save to the listening ear of a few shepherds. And this is the common error of us all. “He that receiveth a prophet,” says Christ, “in the name of a prophet, shall receive a prophet’s reward.” Yes, we respond, that is well; we all shall know a prophet when we see him. But Christ also says, “Whoso shall receive a little child in My name receiveth Me.” He who is blind to the Christ in the little child may also fail to see the prophet when he comes. Such as Christ was manifested here, such did He ever continue. He would steal into the life of humanity as a babe twines round a mother’s heart. He would draw men to Him by the charm and sweetness of humna sanctity; and to those who were thus attracted to Him and abode in His fellowship, there came at length the revelation that this was the Divine. The cross lay hidden in the manger of Bethlehem. He was already bearing the only cross a babe can bear, poverty and man’s contempt; sweetened by a mother’s care, the symbol of that affection of pious hearts which never failed Him throughout His vexed and troubled history; and hallowed by the Father’s approval of the well-beloved Son, in whom, now as ever, He was well pleased. The sacrificial purpose and saving energy of His life already appeared. “Though He was rich, yet for our sakes,” &c. The mother of Jesus and the adoring shepherds must have been struck by the contrast between the honour of His annunciation and the meanness of His birth; between the splendours of the angelic host, and the manger where He lay. Eighteen centuries of Christian history have taught us that herein is no contrast, but profound consistency. What honour could the world have rendered the Son of God which would not have more sharply contrasted with His character and mission than poverty and the world’s neglect? There is nothing in common between Christ and the luxury of wealth, the ostentation of a palace, the statecraft of a Court. The manger of Bethlehem is the sign of the Messiah; the lowly, self-accepted lot of Jesus is the seal of His divinity. Men soar, God stoops; ambition is human, condescension is Divine. When God reveals Himself for man’s salvation it can only be by sacrifice; and the more complete the sacrifice, the fuller is the revelation. (A. Mackennal, D.D.)
The sign of Jesus Christ:—What a wonderful contrast between this verse and that which follows! What greatness on the one side, what humility on the other! That humility is the sign of the greatness. I. The sign of humility by which the entrance of Jesus into the world was announced, is found throughout the whole course of His history. II. The same contrast is found in the institutions which Jesus has left to preserve in His Church the remembrance of His benefits. III. There is, again, this same contrast of grandeur and humility to mark, with a Divine seal, the Church of Jesus Christ. 1. In its origin, composed of obscure persons from lowest ranks of a small unknown people. 2. As it exists to-day wherever the true Church is to be found. IV. The same sign of humility will enable us to recognize the worship with which God is pleased. V. The sign of humility which is constantly found in Christ, and in all that springs from Christ, must be found also among His disciples. (Horace Monod.)
Lessons of the holy manger:—At the cradle of Christianity, we may observe something of the predestined form both of Christian doctrine and Christian life. In the bud we trace the probable shape and colour of the coming flower. When standing at the source of a river we can determine at least the general direction of its course. In the Sacred Infancy, too, we may discern, without risk of indulgence in over-fanciful analogies, a typical portraiture of the Christian creed, and a precious lesson for good Christian living. To the theologian and the practical Christian, the sign of the manger and of the swaddling clothes is at least as full of meaning now as it was of old to the shepherds of Bethlehem. I. LOOK THEN AT THE CREED OF THE CHURCH. It has two sides, two aspects. It is one thing to sight, another to faith. To sight, it is wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger. To faith, it is revealed from heaven as supernatural and Divine. II. Consider THE MORAL IMPORT OF THE MANGER-BED OF THE INFANT JESUS. The world-wide principle of spiritual death needed to be expelled by a stronger and not less universal principle. It demanded a regenerating force, resting not on theory but on fact, a principle human in its form and action, but Divine in its strength and origin. Such a privilege we find in the Babe, wrapped, &c. This was indeed the Divine Word, engrafted on human nature, and able to save the souls of men. The Incarnation was the source of a moral revolution. By saving man it was destined to save human society. It confronted sensuality by endurance and mortification. It confronted covetousness by putting honour upon poverty. It taught men that a man’s highest life consisteth not in the abundance of the things that he possesseth. But its great lesson was a lesson of humility. In the humiliation of the Highest, the nations read the truth which the incarnate Lord taught in words:—“Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven.” For us men humility is the law of progress, because it is the admission of truth. At Christ’s manger may we learn the blessed temper which makes faith, repentance, perseverance, easy, and to which are promised the crowns of glory, worn by the blessed around His throne. (Canon Liddon.) The babe: A Christmastide meditation:—The Incarnation was the great event in the world’s history. Nothing can rival in interest to us the coming of God in our mortal flesh; the shadowing of Deity in a human form, so that we might see Him; the manifestation of Deity in a saving love, so that we might be drawn to Him; the shinings in our humanity of a Divine purity; which should at once reveal to us our sins; and deliver us from their power. I. OUR SAVIOUR WAS A REAL MAN. All are alike at birth—babes. Christ came as we came. He passed through the entire experience of human life, starting from the cradle, right up to and beyond the tomb. II. OUR SAVIOUR WAS SIMPLY A MAN. “Ye shall find the babe”: just a babe, no more. No accident of birth limited Jesus to any part of the community; there were none of those things about Him on which men pride themselves. He belongs to all, however humble, obscure, poor, simple, needy. III. HE WAS A LOVING MAN. A babe is the emblem of the mightiest thing on earth—love—the sunshine of the Divine radience. IV. He was, for the most part, A REJECTED MAN. There never seemed to be any room for Him, from His birth onwards. V. HE IS ALL IN ALL TO THOSE WHO RECEIVE HIM. 1. To find this Babe will be the beginning of truest peace to our own hearts. 2. To find this Babe will be the beginning for us of a better, nobler life. 3. To find this Babe will give to us the true spirit of brotherhood and charity. (R. Tuck, B. A.)
The sign of the manger:—Let us think what is the connection here. A sign—a signal: how so? In what sense did the mode and circumstance of the birth make it typical of the thing which Christ comes to do? What is that thing which Christ comes to do? He has come to be the God-man, the Redeemer, the Emmanuel, and the Saviour—the God for us, and God with us, and God in us—of the fallen, the sinful, the erring and straying man. Now, to be this, He must first incorporate Himself with men, take the flesh and blood, the nature and body and spirit of the race which He comes to save. He must first of all incorporate Himself—not with a man, or a few men, but with humanity—with man as man, and not with certain privileged specimens and choice individuals of the race. He has come to undo the fall. He has come to bear the sins, to wipe away the tears, to take the sting out of the death of the Adam race as a whole; therefore He must not only take flesh and blood—become one of us and live our very life: that is not enough. He must go down to the very rock from which we are hewn, and He must put on our nature—not in its ornamental but in its bare form—not as it may deck itself in the embellishment of rank or wealth, of social distinction or philosophical culture, but as it is in itself and in the commonest experiences of its humblest children. If the Divine Saviour had appeared in any other form than this, He would have misled men as to the thing which He came to do, and as to the relation in which He desired to stand as to the lower and the lowest portions of the human family. The sign of the helpless babe and the manger cradle was no capricious or accidental idea; for, inasmuch as it is Christ the Lord, therefore ye shall find Him not in the miraculous strength of an instantaneous maturity, and not in the guest-chambers of a king’s palace, but as a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. There was a connection and a congruity between the sign and the reality; for thus it was that Christ became, not the faith of a few, but the Saviour of all. None are poorer, none are humbler, none are less learned, none are less noble after the flesh, than He. None can say now, “His is the religion of the educated—of the philosophical—of kings and princes—His is the religion which admits or which favours a position of comfort or respectability, and I am none of these, so Christ is not for me.” And when, at this Christmas season, wealth surrounds itself with all its luxuries of mind and body, and thinks it much if, for a moment and in the most perfunctory way, it remembers the poor, we feel how slight must be the hold of these self-indulgers upon the faith which they profess to honour. If we would know the mystery of Christmas; if we would read the riddle of the angel; if we would know why he said, “The Saviour is born, and the sign is the manger,” we should turn our steps to some poor man’s chamber with its highbacked chair and its open Bible. We shall hear that man say, “Oh, I love both to be abased and to abound. I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, for Christ the Lord was born this day for our salvation, and His first earthly resting place was a yard and a manger.” (Dean Vaughan.)
Divine things veiled under earthly forms:—This shall be your sign: not the march of a conqueror, not the splendour of a king, but the Babe wrapped in swaddling bands and lying in a manger! Wherever God is, the presence is secret. What, for example, is the Book of God—the Bible—but an example of this sanctity in commonness: a heap of leaves, marked with ink and hand, stamped with signs for sounds, multiplied by printing-press and steam-engine, conveyed hither and thither by railways, bought and sold in shops, tossed from hand to hand in schools and homes, lost and dissipated by vulgar wear and tear? But go back to its composition. What was the Bible as it came forth originally, book by book, and chapter by chapter, from the mind which thought, and from the hand which wrote it? Was it not written, after all, both in composition and in dictation, like any other work of poetry or philosophy, of history or fiction—by the brain and nerve power of common human beings? Was it not given forth line by line from the lips of a Paul sitting at the tent-making, or some other evangelist alternating between preaching and handicraft—by the utterance of sounds in an imperfect human language to some obscure Persis or other amanuensis reporting? Yet in that Book of books, thus material, thus earthly, thus human in its circumstances, there lies concealed the very breath and spirit of God Himself, mighty to stir hearts, and mighty to regenerate souls. The swathing bands of sense and time enclose the living and moving power which is of eternity, which is Divine. Nay, the sign of the true Deity is the fact that the form is human. Take another example of this from another of God’s instruments of communication. What is that vessel for holding common water, which is the appendage of every Christian place of worship? Is there anything in that laver—that font—but what is of the earth, and of the very commonest of all earth’s gifts for refreshing and purifying? “What can be the use,” some might inquire, “of bringing that earthly water into the House of God’s worship, as though we had forgotten our Master’s own words, ‘God is a Spirit’? What significance can there be—certainly what virtue—in sprinkling those few drops of common water upon the forehead of a child, with or without a particular form of sacred words accompanying? What, again, can be less intelligible than that sight of that little frugal table of common bread and common wine, standing there in front of the congregation? How can eating and drinking in God’s house affect, in any degree, for good the soul of the worshipper?” We can but answer that Christ our Master commanded the one sacrament as the appointed way of dedicating a new life to His service, and that He appointed the other sacrament as commemorative of His own death and passion—as instrumental, also, in nourishing the soul that in it feeds upon Him by faith. And though it would be presumptuous, indeed, to attach any value to a form of man’s invention, we feel that the presumption would be all the other way if we neglected an ordinance of Jesus Christ, because it was either too mysterious for us, or too carnal. Nay, we can almost read in the very simplicity a signal of His working, who, when He came on earth came as a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, and made it a sign of His presence that He was lying in a manger. But the same thing which is true of the Bible and of the sacraments, is true also of the Church and of the Christian. Where is it, we ask, that God in Christ dwells most certainly, most personally, on this earth? It is no word of man’s invention which answers, to the Church—“Ye, collectively, are the temple of God,” and, to the Christian—“your body is the shrine of the Holy Ghost, which is in you.” Yet if we look at the men and the women and the children thus spoken to, we see nothing but human beings, frail and fallen, occupied for a large part of their life in the employments and the relaxations, in the talk and in the seeking, which are common alike to the righteous and the wicked, and which would equally be theirs if they had neither faith nor heaven. The treasure of the Divine light is always held in earthen vessels; not until the pitcher is broken at the fountain shall the full radiance shine out so as to be read of all men. Meanwhile the sign of God is the commonness. Christ came not to take men out of the world, but to consecrate and keep them in it. Coming to redeem earth, He takes earth as it is: not the ideal, but the real; and makes this the very token of His being amongst us—that we find a helpless babe and a manger cradle. (Ibid.)
The practice of swathing infants:—When the Gospels were translated in our venerable version, it did not occur to any of the translators that the word “swaddling clothes” would ever be an obsolete word, needing to be illustrated by a description of ancient or foreign customs. And yet so it is at this day. The usage which is alluded to in this word is to us entirely strange. Few things among the old world customs, I venture to say, strike some of us as more outlandish—more pitiable even—more entirely removed from our notions of good care and right training—than the swaddling of little helpless babies, as it is practised, for instance, in Germany. I do not believe an American mother can generally pass one of those poor little Wickelkinder, strapped down on its back to a pillow by spiral after spiral of convoluted bandages, without longing to apply the scissors and let the little prisoner go free. And yet it is only a few generations since this way of treating new-born children prevailed, with variations and aggravations, in all nations, even the most civilized. We owe our own emancipation, in this land and century, from this and other artificial traditions, to no other single influence so much as to a remarkable book published in the middle of the last century by a citizen of Geneva—the “Emile” of Jean Jacques Rousseau. It speaks thus of the universally prevalent treatment of an infant child as it had continued to his day: “Scarcely does the child begin to enjoy the liberty of moving and stretching its limbs, when it is placed anew in confinement. It is wound in swaddling clothes, and laid down with its head fixed, its legs extended, its arms at its sides. It is surrounded with clothes and bandages of all sorts that prevent it from changing its position. It is a good thing if they do not even draw the bands so tight as to hinder respiration, and if they have the foresight to lay it on its side to avoid the danger of strangulation.… The inaction and constraint in which the child’s limbs are confined must necessarily disturb the circulation, hinder the child from gaining strength, and affect its constitution.… Is it possible that such cruel constraint can fail to affect the character of the child, as well as its physical temperament? Its first conscious feeling is a feeling of pain and suffering. It finds nothing but hindrances to the motions which it craves. More wretched than a criminal in irons, it frets and cries. The first gifts it receives are fetters; the first treatment it experiences is torture.” Such was the practice of a hundred years ago in the highest families of the most civilized country in the world. In many lands, partly owing to this very protest, the practice is better now. But in the slow-going East the common practice of the nursery is no better, and it is probably no worse than it was nineteen hundred years ago. But it is worse than anything we ever see or hear of in this part of the world. In fact, it comes nearer to the binding of an Indian papoose to a board, than to anything that we are accustomed to see in the families of Christendom. Once wound around with these swathing-bands, sometimes with an addition of fresh earth against the skin, and packed in their cradles like a little mummy in its coffin, the poor little babies are expected to stay there, all cries and complaints notwithstanding; they are not removed by their mothers even for such necessary occasions as to be fed. I have heard pitiful stories told by missionaries’ wives, and by missionary physicians, in the East, of the sufferings of little infants in consequence of the obstinate persistence of parents in a usage which we clearly see to be so unreasonable and unnatural. (Leonard W. Bacon.)
The sign of the swaddling clothes:—Is it not strange, you will ask, that when the shepherds were given a sign by which they should know their new-born Saviour, they should be told, not of something distinguishing Him from all children beside, but of something common to all the infants that were born that night in all Judea? “Ye shall find wrapped in swaddling clothes.” Why not say, according to the instincts of heathen mythology, Ye shall know Him by the bees that gather to suck the honey of His lips, or the strangled serpents that lie about His cradle? Why not say, according to the suggestions of Christian legend and art, Ye shall know Him by the aspect of supernatural majesty, which it shall be the dream and the disappointment of all the world’s artists to attempt to portray? Or, Ye shall know Him by the halo of celestial light beaming from His brow, as in the “Holy Night” of Correggio, and filling the rude stall with an unearthly brightness? Or, Ye shall know Him by some accessories worthy of so royal a birth, by gifts of gold and myrrh and frankincense that strew the humble shed? The very question brings its answer: You are to know Him from all these natural dreams of a fond imagination, from the hopeful prognostications of Hebrew mothers, or the impatient fancies of fanatics, or the artful fictions of impostors taking advantage of the general expectation with which the very atmosphere of Palestine was saturated, to set forth some feigned Messiah—you are to know Him from all these by the fact that He is just the opposite of all such imaginings—that He is to all appearance just a helpless human infant, the most helpless thing in the whole creation, bound and bandaged in swaddling clothes. And if you would know how to distinguish Him from other such, it is not by His grandeur but by His poverty. There is no room in the inn for such as He; and they have laid Him in the manger, among the cattle.… The sign given to the shepherds is a sign also to us—that we find the Holy Child wrapped in swaddling clothes. Illustrious men have sometimes had an honest pride in inscribing upon their escutchon, beneath a noble crest, the symbol of the humble mechanic rank in which they had their origin. So the Church of Christ, beneath the diadem of supreme royalty, quarters upon its shield, beside the cross and the thongs, the manger and the swaddling bands, and invites the world to read the blazon. That family group which the painters of every later age have been essaying to depict—the carpenter with his simple, uninquisitive faith obedient to heavenly visions, the pure Virgin with her unskilled maiden tenderness pondering strange memories in her heart, both leaning over the Wonderful, but understanding not the saying which He speaks to them—these speak over again to us the language of that prophet who first called his child “Immanuel,” “Behold we and the Child whom the Lord hath given us are for signs and for wonders from the Lord of hosts.” (Ibid.)
Naturalness of the truly great:—To illustrate the use of such a sign as was given to the shepherds, let me suppose some traveller accustomed to the splendour and reserve of royal courts visiting the city of Washington, and asking, on his way to the White House, how he should find the President. We should tell him, “You may know him by this sign. He is a plain man, plainly dressed in a black suit, and you will find him in the centre of the thickest crowd, and everybody coming up to shake hands with him. First, he is not distinguished in the way you expect him to be; and, secondly, he is unmistakably distinguished in just the opposite way.” But for some such “sign” as this our traveller might naturally mistake for the President some attaché of a South American Embassy standing apart in a halo of dignity and a light blaze of gold lace. This “wrapped in swaddling-clothes and lying in a manger” was just the sign the shepherds needed. And we do well if, looking for the Christ, we take heed to it ourselves. We are not yet safe from the error of them of old time, who thought to find the Lord clothed in soft raiment and dwelling in king’s palaces. (Ibid.)
Christ’s humility:—In His nativity, and in His temptation (Mark 1:13), Christ was among beasts. Believers, ambitious of high place, forget their Master’s cradle. A manger is here honoured above a thousand glittering thrones. It is an ornament of His royalty, a throne of His glory. He comes in humility; He reigns in humility; He leads by humility. The manger and the cross are stumbling-blocks to many. His infancy and death are still rocks, wrecking human pride. (Van Doren.)
The sign of the Incarnation:—Christmas is full of surprises. It brings in, as no other event ever did, the element of mystery, of wonder. Its testimony is, God became manifest in the flesh. The Eternal Word was joined with a perfect human nature. The miracle of the Incarnation transcends every other that has been and will be wrought. It is in itself a wonder so great that all the accompaniments of the birth of Jesus sink into comparative insignificance. We are, I fear, inclined to forget the majesty of the fact in the strangeness of its surroundings. We count it a wonderful thing that He should have been born in the stable of a country inn, whereas the real wonder is that such a birth should take place anywhere, and so I ask you to contemplate one of the signs by which the shepherds of Bethlehem were to find and know the incarnate God—“Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes.” I. It reminds us, by way of analogy, of a fact which constitutes the most trying element in the mystery of the Incarnation, namely, that GOD THEREBY CAME WITHIN CERTAIN LIMITATIONS. How an uncreated and omnipresent, that is, a boundless, Infinite Being could be contracted within the circumference of a human life is the most puzzling problem of revelation. The impossibility of our understanding this is a temptation, not perhaps to deny, but to forget the deeper meaning of the Christmas feast. Remember, then, that within these swathing bands which encircled the infant form of Jesus there was bound the nature of a Being more than human, even God Himself. Men may call this an unreasonable tax upon our faith. It is rather a sign of God’s condescension to human weakness. The whole secret of the history of idolatry among the Jews and the Gentiles was a longing for some visible manifestation of Him whom they felt they must worship. Man instinctively longs for some incarnate form, some Word of his Maker manifest in the flesh, some finite manifestation of the Infinite Father. And the birth of Jesus, the enshrining of God within a human form, the swathing of that power, which otherwise knows no bounds, was but an answer to man’s desire. II. The sign holds good, not only of the nature of Christ, but likewise of THE LIFE WHICH, FROM FIRST TO LAST, HE LIVED. That also was like every purely human life, hemmed in. It unfolded according to the ordinary laws of growth. His babyhood was as real as His manhood. He increased in wisdom as well as stature. He learned gradually the wisdom which all the world now confesses. The common idea which people have of Jesus is that, being Divine, He was exempt from the ordinary conditions of common men; that He never knew constraint; that there were no barriers opposing Him, no bands fettering the free exercise of that Divine power which lay hidden within Him. Yet duty was sometimes hard for Him. He longed to do things which He might not attempt, because the higher and more spiritual dictates of His conscience forbade it. The kingdoms of this world and their glory looked as fair and tempting to His soul as they do to ours. But the law of righteousness, the swathing-bands of duty, the rules of obedience which God throws around us, likewise constrained Him. III. The manner of the Incarnation shows GOD’S ESTIMATE OF HUMAN NATURE. If you are ever tempted to despise human nature because you see it now and then wearing disagreeable phases, or to think ill of, nay, to slight, your friends, remember God’s estimate of them. He does not thus stoop and toil to save the worthless. From being a King He descended to the lowest form of human life, entered the world in utter helplessness, was wrapped in swaddling clothes, and during all His development here on earth never rose above that form of a servant which He had taken. And He did all this, because even fallen man was dearer to His heart than the world of lost angels. (E. E. Johnson, M.A.)
Great things from small beginnings:—Not, Ye shall find the angel in the heavens, the king on his throne, the young prince in a palace, the commander at the head of his armies, but “the babe in a manger.” How strange are God’s ways of working out His strange plans! It is not by might, nor by power, that His agencies accomplish their vast work. The least things are often the greatest in His providence (1 Cor. 1:27–29). It may be the shepherd boy with his sling who gains victory over the mailed giant in whose presence the whole army of Israel stands trembling; it may be the tinker in Bedford Jail who writes a masterpiece in religious literature, to be honoured for centuries for its work and its worth; it may be the unschooled clerk from a Boston shoe-store who proclaims the gospel with a fervency and power which the best-cultured divines of all Christendom have not attained to; or it may be in the most unprepossessing child of your school or class that the grandest possibilities for the kingdom of Christ to-day lie hid. (H. C. Trumbull.)
The fitness of the sign:—“This shall be the sign,” saith the angel. “Shall be”; but should it be this? No; how should it be? Let us see. Why, this shall be the sign; ye shall find the Child, not in these clouts or cratch, but in a crimson mantle, in a cradle of ivory. That, lo, were somewhat Saviour-like I But in vain take we upon us to teach the angel; we would have—we know not what. We forget St. Augustine’s distingue tempora; as the time is the angel is right, and a fitter sign could not be assigned. Would we have had Him come in power and great glory? and so He will come, but not now. He that cometh here in clouts will one day come in the clouds. But now His coming was for another end, and so to be in another manner. His coming now was “to visit us in great humility,” and so His sign to be according. Nay, then, I say, first go to the nature of a sign; if Christ had come in His excellency, that had been no sign, no more than the sun in the firmament shining in his full strength. Contrary to the course of nature it must be, else it is no sign. The sun eclipsed, the sun in sackcloth; that is signum in sole, “the sign indeed” (Luke 21:25). And that is the sign here: the Sun of Righteousness entering into His eclipse begins to be darkened in His first point, the point of His nativity. This is the sign, say I, and that had been none. (Bishop Lancelot Andrewes.)
The sign nothing; the treasure all:—Make of the sign what ye will; it skills not what it be, never so mean. In the nature of a sign there is nothing, but it may be such; all is in the thing signified. So it carry us to a rich signatum, and worth the finding, what matter how mean the sign be? We are sent to a crib, not to an empty crib; Christ is in it. Be the sign never so simple, the signatum it carries us to makes amends. Any sign with such a signatum. And I know not the man so squeamish, but if, in his stable and under his manger, there were a treasure hid, and he were sure of it, but thither he would, and pluck up the planks, and dig and rake for it, and be never a whit offended with the homeliness of the place. If, then, Christ be a treasure, as in Him are “all the treasures of the wisdom and bounty of God,” what skills it what be His sign. With this, with any other, Christ is worth the finding. He is not worthy of Christ who will not go anywhither to find Christ. (Ibid.)
Christ born in a manger:—At midnight from one of the galleries of the sky a chant broke forth. To an ordinary observer there was no reason for such a celestial demonstration. If there had been such brilliant and mighty recognition at an advent in the House of Pharaoh, or at an advent in the House of Cæsar, or the House of Hapsburg, or the House of Stuart, we would not so much have wondered; but a barn seems too poor a centre for such delicate and archangelic circumference. The stage seems too small for so great an act, the music too grand for such unappreciative auditors, the windows of the stable too rude to be serenaded by other worlds. I. THAT NIGHT IN THE BETHLEHEM MANGER WAS BORN ENCOURAGEMENT FOR ALL THE POORLY STARTED. He had only two friends—they His parents. No satin-lined cradle, no delicate attentions, but straw and the cattle, and the coarse joke and banter of the camel drivers. From the depths of that poverty He rose, until to-day He is honoured in all Christendom, and sits on the imperial throne in heaven. Do you know that the vast majority of the world’s deliverers had barnlike birthplaces? Luther, the emancipator of religion, born among the mines. Shakespeare, the emancipator of literature, born in a humble home at Stratford-on-Avon. Columbus, the discoverer of a world, born in poverty at Genoa. Hogarth, the discoverer of how to make art accumulative and administrative of virtue, born in a humble home at Westminster. Kitto and Prideaux, whose keys unlocked new apartments in the Holy Scriptures which had never been entered, born in want. Yea, I have to tell you that nine out of ten of the world’s deliverers were born in want. I stir your holy ambitions to-day, and I want to tell you, although the whole world may be opposed to you, and inside and outside of your occupations or professions there may be those who would hinder your ascent, on your side and enlisted in your behalf are the sympathetic heart and the almighty arm of One who, one Christmas night about eighteen hundred and eighty years ago, was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger. Oh, what magnificent encouragement for the poorly started! II. Again, I have to tell you that IN THAT VILLAGE BARN THAT NIGHT WAS BORN GOODWILL TO MEN, whether you call it kindness, or forbearance, or forgiveness, or geniality, or affection, or love. It says, “Sheathe your swords, dismount your guns, dismantle your batteries, turn the warship Constellation, that carried shot and shell, into a grain ship to take food to famishing Ireland, hook your cavalry horses to the plough, use your deadly gunpowder in blasting rocks and in patriotic celebration, stop your lawsuits, quit writing anonymous letters, extract the sting from your sarcasm, let your wit coruscate but never burn, drop all the harsh words out of your vocabulary—Goodwill to men.” III. Again, I remark that BORN THAT CHRISTMAS NIGHT IN THE VILLAGE BARN WAS SYMPATHETIC UNION WITH OTHER WORLDS. Move that supernatural grouping of the cloud banks over Bethlehem, and from the special trains that ran down to the scene I find that our world is beautifully and gloriously and magnificently surrounded. The meteors are with us, for one of them ran to point down to the birthplace. The heavens are with us, because at the thought of our redemption they roll hosannas out of the midnight sky. IV. Again, I remark that THAT NIGHT BORN IN THAT VILLAGE BARN WAS THE OFFENDER’S HOPE. Some sermonizers may say I ought to have projected this thought at the beginning of the sermon. Oh, no! I wanted you to rise toward it. I wanted you to examine the cornelians and the jaspers and the emeralds and the sardonyx before I showed you the Kohinoor—the crown jewel of the ages. Oh, that jewel had a very poor setting! The cub of the bear is born amid the grand old pillars of the forest, the whelp of a lion takes its first step from the jungle of luxuriant leaf and wild flower, the kid of the goat is born in cavern chandeliered with stalactite and pillared with stalagmite. Christ was born in a bare barn. Yet that nativity was the offender’s hope. Over the door of heaven are written these words, “None but the sinless may enter here.” “Oh, horror,” you say, “that shuts us out!” No. Christ came to the world in one door, and He departed through another door. He came through the door of the manger, and He departed through the door of the sepulchre; and His one business was so to wash away our sin that after we are dead there will be no more sin about us than about the eternal God. I know that is putting it strongly, but that is what I understand by full remission. All erased, all washed away, all scoured out, all gone. Oh! now I see what the manger was. Not so high the gilded and jewelled and embroidered cradle of the Henrys of England, or the Louis of France, or the Fredericks of Prussia. Now I find out that that Bethlehem crib fed not so much the oxen of the stall as the white horses of Apocalyptic vision. Now I find the swaddling clothes enlarging and emblazing into an imperial robe for a conqueror. (Dr. Talmage.)
The Child in the manger:— I. Learn from this story of the birth of Jesus, in the first place, that INDIGENCE IS NOT ALWAYS SIGNIFICANT OF DEGRADATION. When princes are born, heralds proclaim it, and flags wave it, and cannon thunder it, and illuminations set cities on fire with the tidings; but when Christ was born there was no demonstration of earthly honour or homage. Poor, and, if possible, getting poorer, and yet the recognition of the angel host proves the truth of the proposition that indigence is no sign of degradation. In all ages of the world there have been great hearts throbbing under rags, gentle spirits under rough exterior, gold in the quartz, Parian marble in the quarry, and in the very stables of poverty wonders of excellence that have been the joy of the heavenly host. Poetry, and science, and law, and constitutions, and commerce, like Christ, were born in a manger. Great thoughts that seem to have been the axle-tree on which the centuries turned, started in some obscure corner, and had Herods who tried to slay them, and Iscariots who betrayed them, and Pilates who unjustly condemned them, and rabbles who crucified them, and sepulchres which confined them until they broke forth again in glorious resurrection. Men are, like wheat, worth all the more for being flailed. Strong character, like the rhododendron, is an alpine plant which grows best in the tempest. There are a great many men who are now standing in the front rank of the Church of God who would have been utterly useless had they not been ground and hammered in the foundries of disaster. II. Again, I learn from the text that IT IS WHEN WE ARE ENGAGED IN OUR LAWFUL OCCUPATIONS THAT WE HAVE DIVINE MANIFESTATIONS MADE TO US. If these shepherds had gone that night into the village, and risked their flocks among the wolves, they would not have heard the song of the angels. In other words, he sees most of God and heaven who minds his own business! We are all shepherds, and we have large flocks of cares, and we must tend them. I know there are a great many busy men who say, “Oh, if I had only time, I would be good. If I had the days and the months and the years to devote to the subject of religion, I should be one of the best of Christians.” A great mistake are you making. The busiest men are generally the best men. There is no point from which you can get clearer views of duty than at the merchant’s counter, or the accountant’s table, or on the mason’s wall. III. Again, the story of the text STRIKES AT THE POPULAR FALLACY THAT THE RELIGION OF CHRIST IS DOLOROUS AND GRIEF-INFUSING. The music that broke through that famous birth-night was not a dirge, but an anthem. It shook joy over the midnight hills. It not only dropped among the shepherds, but it sprang upward among the thrones. The robe of righteousness is not black. The religious life is not all weeping and sighing, and cross-bearing and warfare. Christianity does not frown on amusements and recreations. It quenches no light. It defaces no heart. Among the happy it is the happiest. Heaven itself is only a warmer love and a brighter joy. IV. Again, I learn from this subject, WHAT GLORIOUS ENDINGS COME FROM SMALL AND INSIGNIFICANT BEGINNINGS. The New Testament Church was on a small scale. The fishermen watched it. Small beginnings, but glorious endings. A throne linked to a manger. Mansions of light at God’s right hand associated with stables of poverty. V. I learn, finally, from this story of the birth of Christ, THE GLORIOUS RESULT OF A SAVIOUR’S MISSION. Have you ever thought how strangely this song of peace must have sounded to the Roman Empire? Why, that Roman Empire gloried in its arms, and boasted of the number of men it had slain, and with triumph looked at conquered provinces. Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, Macedonia, Egypt, had bowed to her sword, and crouched at the cry of her war eagles. Their highest honours had been bestowed upon Fabius and Scipio and Cæsar. It was men of blood and carnage that they honoured. With what contempt they must have looked upon a kingdom the chief principle of which was to be goodwill to men, and upon the unarmed, penniless Christ, who, in Nazarene garb, was about to start out for the conquest of the nations. If all the blood which has been shed in battle were gathered together in one great lake, it would bear up a navy. The blow that struck Abel into the dust has had its echo in the carnage of all the centuries. If we could take our stand on some high mountain of earth, and have all the armies of other ages pass along, what a spectacle! There go the hosts of the Israelites through scores of Red Seas, one of them of water, the rest of blood. There go the armies of Cyrus, lifting their infuriate yell over prostrate Babylon. There goes Alexander, with his innumerable host, conquering all but himself, and making the earth to reel under the battle gash of Persepolis and Chæronia. There goes the great Frenchman, down through Egypt like one of its own plagues, and up through Russia like one of its own ice-blasts. Host after host. Tramp, tramp, tramp. Coming down to our day, I appeal to the grave-trench under the shadow of Sebastopol, and turning to India I show you fallen Delhi, and Allahabad, and the inhuman Sepoys, and the regiments of Havelock avenging the insulted flag of Great Britain. On this, the day before Christmas, I bring you good tidings of great joy. A Saviour for the lost. Medicine for the sick. Light for the blind. Harbour for the bestormed. Eternal life for the dead. (Ibid.)
Exell, J. S. (n.d.). The Biblical Illustrator: St. Luke: Vol. I (pp. 157–166). James Nisbet & Co.
Mighty God” (Isa. 9:6) is the name of this child. The child in the manger is none other than God himself. Nothing greater can be said: God became a child. In the Jesus child of Mary lives the almighty God. Wait a minute! Don’t speak; stop thinking! Stand still before this statement! God became a child! Here he is, poor like us, miserable and helpless like us, a person of flesh and blood like us, our brother. And yet he is God; he is might. Where is the divinity, where is the might of the child? In the divine love in which he became like us. His poverty in the manger is his might. In the might of love he overcomes the chasm between God and humankind, he overcomes sin and death, he forgives sin and awakens from the dead. Kneel down before this miserable manger, before this child of poor people, and repeat in faith the stammering words of the prophet: “Mighty God!” And he will be your God and your might.
But now it is true that in three days, Christmas will come once again. The great transformation will once again happen. God would have it so. Out of the waiting, hoping, longing world, a world will come in which the promise is given. All crying will be stilled. No tears shall flow. No lonely sorrow shall afflict us anymore, or threaten. Sermon to a German-speaking church in Havana, Cuba, December 21, 1930
And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. John 1:14
Bonhoeffer, D. (2010). God is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas (J. Riess, Ed.; O. C. Dean Jr., Trans.; First edition, pp. 58–59). Westminster John Knox Press.
We cannot approach the manger of the Christ child in the same way we approach the cradle of another child. Rather, when we go to his manger, something happens, and we cannot leave it again unless we have been judged or redeemed. Here we must either collapse or know the mercy of God directed toward us. What does that mean? Isn’t all of this just a way of speaking? Isn’t it just pastoral exaggeration of a pretty and pious legend? What does it mean that such things are said about the Christ child? Those who want to take it as a way of speaking will do so and continue to celebrate Advent and Christmas as before, with pagan indifference. For us it is not just a way of speaking. For that’s just it: it is God himself, the Lord and Creator of all things, who is so small here, who is hidden here in the corner, who enters into the plainness of the world, who meets us in the helplessness and defenselessness of a child, and wants to be with us. And he does this not out of playfulness or sport, because we find that so touching, but in order to show us where he is and who he is, and in order from this place to judge and devalue and dethrone all human ambition. The throne of God in the world is not on human thrones, but in human depths, in the manger. Standing around his throne there are no flattering vassals but dark, unknown, questionable figures who cannot get their fill of this miracle and want to live entirely by the mercy of God.
“Joy to the world!” Anyone for whom this sound is foreign, or who hears in it nothing but weak enthusiasm, has not yet really heard the gospel. For the sake of humankind, Jesus Christ became a human being in a stable in Bethlehem: Rejoice, O Christendom! For sinners, Jesus Christ became a companion of tax collectors and prostitutes: Rejoice, O Christendom! For the condemned, Jesus Christ was condemned to the cross on Golgotha: Rejoice, O Christendom! For all of us, Jesus Christ was resurrected to life: Rejoice, O Christendom!… All over the world today people are asking: Where is the path to joy? The church of Christ answers loudly: Jesus is our joy! (1 Pet. 1:7–9). Joy to the world! Dietrich Bonhoeffer
In this you rejoice, even if now for a little while you have had to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith—being more precious than gold that, though perishable, is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls. 1 Peter 1:6–9
Bonhoeffer, D. (2010). God is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas (J. Riess, Ed.; O. C. Dean Jr., Trans.; First edition, pp. 65–67). Westminster John Knox Press.
Emmanuel, God with us. This is a wonder to behold. The eternal Son of God became man in the person of Jesus Christ, and broke into our darkness of suffering, sin, and shame to rescue and redeem people like you and me.
Think about it.
God is with us in our suffering.
No one in this world is free from suffering. But in Jesus Christ, God entered a dark, cursed world that felt the corroding influence of sin at every level. Though He had no sin of his own, He endured the suffering connected to ours. In humility, Jesus embraced the suffering that was divinely appointed for Him. Yet He did so with courage and grace.
There is no category of suffering that Jesus cannot relate to (Heb. 4:14-16). Jesus, the light of the world, endured undeserved pain, poverty, persistent false accusation, and punishment from others. Therefore, Jesus qualifies to be the empathetic high priest for every kind of sinner like you and me, who were born in spiritual darkness.
When you look toward Him with humble eyes of faith, He transfers you from the kingdom of darkness and meaningless suffering into the kingdom of light and redeemed purpose. In Him, your suffering takes on new purpose—to shape you into His image.
God is with us in our sin.
No one in this world is free from sin. But in Jesus Christ, God entered the darkness of sin. He did not become a sinner, but He was treated like one because He took on Himself the judgment that our guilt deserves. “His name shall be Jesus, for he shall take away the sins of His people” (Matthew 1:20-25).
His people.
So rich is His mercy that the Son of God identifies Himself with us—He calls us “His people.” By becoming man, the eternal Son of God became the only fully acceptable sacrifice for our sins. The Good Shepherd became the Lamb of God, who offered His sinless life to God in our place.
God the Father made him who knew no sin—Jesus Christ, the Son—to be fully treated like a sinner. Jesus accepted this voluntarily, so that we could receive the gift of his grace — the perfect righteousness we lack (2 Corinthians 5:21).
When you turn to Him—handing over your guilt and sin—He removes it from your record and replaces it with His righteousness.
God is with us in our shame.
No one in this world is free from shame. Think about Joseph and Mary, who walked a road riddled with shame. Mary, the virgin mother of Jesus, faced the scorn and mockery of others as heads turned and whispered about her being pregnant before her wedding. Joseph, the adoptive stepfather of Jesus, assumed shame as he helped her to carry her ridicule (John 8:41).
Though she was pure and faithful in her relationship to men, Mary was a sinner in other ways. Like us, she was a child of Adam and Eve, born with a sin nature. Therefore, like us, she needed a divine rescue. Unlike us, she carried her rescuer in her womb. So, upon receiving the angel’s message, she sang: “My spirit rejoices in God, my Savior” (Luke 1:46-55). Joseph lived in obscurity, faithfully raising a boy who was not his—biologically—but who was God’s gift to him as well. His adopted son would carry his shame, too.
In Jesus, God enters your shame—the shame you bring on yourself through your own sin, and the shame that sticks to you because of your association with fellow sinners. But Jesus took that shame upon Himself and carried it to the grave. On the third day, He conquered it in victory. Now, you can be free from the weight of shame by looking to Him with eyes of faith. In Him, you will find a fountain of mercy and grace.
Look to Jesus. He knows your suffering, your sin, and your shame. Still, He welcomes you. Come to Him.
Should you be one of the increasingly few who still remember what the real “reason for the season” is this Christmas, then you can’t help but think about Jesus. How, though, in your mind’s eye, do you actually picture Him?
The Christmas Jesus
Because the Christmas holiday celebrates the Savior’s birth, when picturing Jesus, one naturally sees a baby. Popular nativity scenes portray Luke’s description of Jesus as a tiny babe swaddled in strips of cloth and lying in an animal trough. His parents, Mary and Joseph, gaze down adoringly. Shepherds and wise men gape in amazement from their perches along stone walls. The heavenly host flies above majestically singing, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”
While the angels add a sense of the divine to the Nativity Story, and Hollywood adds the touch of a beam of Bethlehem starlight spotlighting the little family, for the most part, the scene is rather pastoral. We see a peasant family sitting in the hay among the barnyard animals in some sort of cave. It is meant to be a very humble scene.
The Easter Jesus
Because Christmastime is also celebrated by cultural Christians and even non-Christians, the humble imagery of the baby Jesus remains in the mind’s eye. That is, until Easter. Then Jesus is portrayed altogether differently. Now He’s all grown up, fully bearded, yet frail and emaciated. His lithe body suffers from beatings and is covered in lash marks. He is nailed naked to a tree where he hangs limply, bleeding. And there Jesus remains on that cross in the mind’s eye, at least until Christmas returns to reset the mental image of Jesus back into a tiny baby again. And the circle continues.
The Popular Jesus
One of the most popular scenes from the movie Talladega Nights is when the lead character, race car driver Ricky Bobby (played by Will Ferrell), says grace with his family over a feast of fast food. He begins each praise and prayer request with “Dear Lord Baby Jesus” until his wife, Carley, impatiently interrupts with a, “Hey, you know, Sweetie, Jesus did grow up. You don’t always have to call him ‘baby.’” Incensed, Ricky responds with, “Well, I like the Christmas Jesus best, and I’m saying grace. When you say grace, you can say it to grown-up Jesus, or teenage Jesus, or bearded Jesus, or whoever you want.” Even Ricky’s father-in-law, Chip, chimes in with, “He was a man! He had a beard!” From there, the conversation degenerates as each family member describes the “Jesus” they prefer: a ninja fighting off evil samurai, a guy sporting giant eagle’s wings, or a cool fellow singing lead vocals in a band, and so on.
Christians watching this movie tend to squirm, dumbfounded over whether this scene balances closer to blasphemy or comedy. And yet, one cannot help but come away with a profound revelation: most people have created their own “Jesus.”
People see Jesus in the only way they’ve ever encountered Him, and often that’s only during Christmas and Easter. Therefore, Jesus remains to most people as either a helpless baby or a dying man.
The Prophetic Jesus
The beauty and majesty of God’s Prophetic Word introduce us to a third image of Jesus that few, if any, encounter because they never study Bible prophecy. In the prophecies concerning Jesus’ Second Coming, human frailty is stripped away, revealing Christ’s true glory—a divinity that the Apostles could only glimpse at the Transfiguration. Christ’s true form stunned James and John into silence and Peter into babbling. The Apostles had witnessed Jesus in His eternal, glorified state!
In Revelation 1:8, Jesus introduces Himself with the self-identification, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End… the Almighty,” breaking out of the box of babyhood with His claim to agelessness and ultimate power. Revelation 1 continues to describe Jesus as “One like the Son of Man,” so only resembling frail humanity in appearance. Clothed with a garment and girded with a golden band, His hair gleams bright white as wool, and His eyes blaze like flames. Jesus’ feet glow like brass refined in a furnace, and His voice thunders with the sound of many waters. Jesus’ holiness blinds with the strength of the sun. The Jesus whom the elderly apostle John encountered caused him to fall at Jesus’ feet, as if he were a dead man.
Jump ahead to Revelation 19, and you’ll stand in awe of the description of Jesus as He triumphantly returns to earth as a warrior king, dispensing righteousness, judgment, and waging total war against Satan’s forces. Jesus bursts out of the heavens riding His white war charger as the armies of Heaven trail endlessly behind Him. Jesus’ eyes blaze like fire, atop His head sit many crowns, His robe is dipped in blood, and He strikes the enemy nations dead with the sword of the Word protruding out of His mouth. Emblazoned on Jesus’ thigh is the title: “King of kings and Lord of lords.”
Often, it is more palatable to paint Jesus inside the box of one’s mind as a little baby or suffering servant, but is that the genuine Jesus? In part, yes, for they were as much a part of Jesus as our own baby, childhood, and teenage selves once were to us then, but are no longer.
Jesus eternal is the Jesus of Bible prophecy. So stand in awe of your Savior this Christmas season, and all year long!
A.W. Tozer is one of my favorite all-time authors. I hope you enjoy these Christmas related quotes from him:
Man is lost but not abandoned. Had men not been lost, no Savior would have been required. Had they been abandoned, no Savior would have come.
The announcement of the birth of Christ came as a sunburst of joy to a world where grief and pain are known to all and joy comes rarely and never tarries long.
When we sing “The Light of the world is Jesus,” there should be a glow on our faces that would make the world believe that we mean it.
Thousands each year find their desire for salvation and holiness becoming too acute to bear, and turn to the One who was born in a manger to die on a cross. Then the fleeting beauty that is Christmas enters their hearts to dwell there forever. For who is it that imparts such beauty to the Christmas story? It is none other than Jesus, the Altogether Lovely.
…when the Christmas carols are laid aside for another year, and the tinsel is taken down, let’s stand and gaze with wandering eyes upon that Eternal Life which was with the Father and was manifest unto us.
Merry Christmas to you and your family, from me and all of the Eternal Perspective Ministries staff!
Christmas is rightly associated with the Mary’s obedience, Joseph’s faithfulness, and Jesus being born as angels appear to shepherds and wise men come from the east. But to far too many, these are simply stories. They make people feel ‘Christmassy’, but carry no other importance.
On 7 December 2023, the late Voddie Baucham addressed Ligonier Ministries’ annual Christmas gathering, speaking on Galatians 4:4–7.
He explained why Christ’s coming was of the utmost importance, what it means in history, and how it impacts everyone.
The coming of the Messiah was prophesied hundreds of years before the birth of Christ. Though Jesus’ entry into the world was inauspicious, he was born to be a king.
Not just an earthly king, but a king whose kingdom shall know no end and which will continue to increase without ceasing.
The late Pastor John MacArthur preached on 24 December 2012 on the centrality of Christ’s role as King of Kings to the message of Christmas.
As Christians, how do we grow in assurance of our salvation? In this message, Sinclair Ferguson examines how our understanding of justification and the Christian life leads to the answer and helps us to grow.
Anchored in the Word with Dave Jenkins • Christmas Day Special
Show Summary
On this Christmas Day episode, we rejoice in the miracle of the Incarnation that the eternal Son of God took on human flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14). Dave shares how the Incarnation reveals God’s presence (Immanuel), God’s grace (the humble obedience of Christ for our salvation), God’s truth (the Word made visible), and God’s glory (revealed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus). Take time today to worship, give thanks, and rejoice that the Savior King has come, and will come again.Scripture: John 1:14; Philippians 2:6–9; John 14:9
There’s a reason why all the mega churches at Christmas time all seem to have the same messages, they’re buying prepackaged Laodicean ‘sermon kits’ from apostates
Have you ever wondered why so many of the ‘big churches’ all kind of look the same, the pastors all kind of dress the same, and their sermon series absolutely all look and sound the same? What if I told you that these Laodicean pulpit pretenders, far from being Bible preachers, are buying their sermons, outlines, stage decorations and everything else they need in prepackaged kits made available from people like Andy Stanley, Craig Rochelle, Rick Warren and a few others.
“For I know this, that after my departing shall grievous wolves enter in among you, not sparing the flock.” Acts 20:29 (KJB)
Whenever I go on YouTube, I see videos of church after church offering what looks like the exact same sermon series entitled ‘Christmas At The Movies’, where in a desperate attempt to stay relevant, they preach messages on Hollywood movies where they attempt to pull the gospel out of films like ‘Diehard’, ‘Elf’, and many others. These churches put on a lavish spectacle that draws them in by the hundreds of thousands, entertaining them with the world followed by a lukewarm ‘gospel invitation’ at the end. This is not a church service, this is worldly entertainment, and the worst part, it’s not even original, the pastors are purchasing premade sermon kits. So why do I write this on Christmas Eve? For a few reasons.
1). It trains people to want entertainment instead of sound doctrine
“Preach the word; be instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all longsuffering and doctrine. For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears; And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables.” 2 Timothy 4:2-4 (KJB)
Paul says that in the last days before the Rapture of the Church, Bible preaching and doctrine would be missing from the pulpits, and that people would want to have their ears tickled instead. These Laodicean fake preachers are only too happy to step and fill the void with garish end times spectacles that look like the world and sound like the world.
2). It breeds shallow and selective teaching instead of giving you the whole counsel of God
“For I have not shunned to declare unto you all the counsel of God. Take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to all the flock, over the which the Holy Ghost hath made you overseers, to feed the church of God, which he hath purchased with his own blood. For I know this, that after my departing shall grievous wolves enter in among you, not sparing the flock. Also of your own selves shall men arise, speaking perverse things, to draw away disciples after them.” Acts 20:27-30 (KJB)
While it makes for an occasionally interesting illustration, attempting to ‘find the gospel’ in the movies and in secular culture, it brings in not only Hollywood but with it a relative and humanist perspective creating something that is weak, deceptive and ultimately not the gospel once delivered to the saints. For example, there may be some unintentional gospel references in a movie like ‘Diehard’, which then leads people to go and watch ‘Diehard’, where they will be exposed to filthy language, a variety of sins and bad behavior, with the Name of the Lord constantly taken in vain.
3). It commercializes the pulpit
“And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you: whose judgment now of a long time lingereth not, and their damnation slumbereth not.” 2 Peter 2:3 (KJB)
Prepackaged series are usually a product—graphics kits, scripts, small-group material, merch, and licensing which turns the church into a brand. It crosses the line from ministry to marketing. If people applaud when the pastor comes out, that’s not preaching that’s a production.
In conclusion, think about the following. If you attend one of these churches, are you satisfied knowing that everything coming out of the preacher’s mouth he got, not from personal study time in his Bible, but from a marketing company? People who do that are not preachers in the biblical sense, they are actors following a script that they purchased with money to get a desired reaction from you. This is not finding the gospel in Hollywood, this is giving you Hollywood instead of the gospel.
Find yourself a small, old-fashioned church that believes the King James Bible, sings the old hymns of Zion from a handheld paper hymnal, and the pastor preaches doctrinal truth from a wooden pulpit. The Church was never meant to be the place for pizza parties and movie nights, it was never meant to provide programs to keep your kids busy. The Church was created by the shed blood of Jesus Christ on the cross, to preach and teach the words of God as He has preserved them, for the salvation of lost souls and the building up of the body of Christ. Find yourself a church like that.
(RNS) — Each December, we hear a well-meant admonition: “Keep Christ in Christmas.” I affirm that plea with my whole heart. The season of Christ’s birth should not be swallowed up by anxiety about gifts’ shipping dates, nor should the manger in Bethlehem be drowned in tinsel and emptied of wonder.
But there is a quieter, graver danger that does not wait for December and does not end when the lights come down: taking the Christ out of Christian. That happens whenever we subtract empathy from discipleship, whenever the self narrows our field of vision until we can no longer see the plight of our neighbor.
Empathy is not a soft substitute for holiness; it is the pulse of the Christian, and the Christmas, story. To call it a sin is to confuse the selfishness of self with the self-giving love of Jesus.
The irony, of course, is ancient. Many in Jesus’ day grew angry precisely because his heart was too open. He touched those deemed untouchable, ate with those labeled unworthy, healed on days deemed inconvenient and noticed people that others learned not to see. The complaint then — even from his own disciples — was that he was too near to the wrong people.
The complaint now, in some corners, is that Christians are “sinfully empathetic.” The attitude lingers, even as the gospels show us a savior moved in his very gut by the pain before him.
If we let it, the season offers a gentle epiphany — a revelation about how God draws near. Consider a simple, sorrow-touched holiday tale: Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Match Girl.” A child, shivering in the snow, tries to sell matches as passersby hurry past, their errands louder than her hunger. She lights the matches one by one for a moment’s warmth; in the final, flickering glow, she sees the grandmother who loved her, and the story ends with a reunion in a place where compassion is not scarce.
Andersen’s tale is morose and melodious at once, a winter parable about our capacity to look away. Yet it is also about a tender hope that refuses to die. It asks each of us, softly but insistently: Would I have stopped? Would I have knelt? Or would I have tightened my scarf and quickened my step?
These questions are not meant to shame; they are meant to awaken. Empathy is the discipline of pausing long enough to imagine, “What if that were me? What if that were my child?” It is not agreement with every choice; it is the willingness to feel another’s ache long enough to ask what love requires.
Jesus models this over and over. When a woman accused of adultery is surrounded by those who would stone her to death, Jesus stills the violence first, then points her toward a better life. He touched the lepers before he healed them — restoring a human bond before restoring skin. With the hungry crowd, he fed them not because they proved worthy of bread, but because they were hungry. Such empathy is not weakness; it is holiness with hands.
There is, to be sure, a temptation in every age to harvest the political or social capital of Christianity without undertaking its cruciform work. In subtle ways, we can turn “Jesus is Lord” into “Jesus is useful,” wearing the mantle of faith as a veneer for our own authority. The Roman emperor Constantine tried to do as much, draping the cross in the colors of power. We need to ask which way our loyalty bends — toward self-sacrifice, or toward fear and force. The answer will be revealed, not by our slogans, but by our readiness to feel and to serve.
Empathy can be costly. It unsettles our schedules; it tugs at our resources; it asks us to carry one another’s burden. But the answer to compassion fatigue is not compassion famine.
Christmas itself is God’s gentle declaration that empathy is not a sin but the shape of divine love. “Emmanuel” — God with us — means God refuses to love from a safe altitude. Beautifully poetic, God learns our language, enters our sorrows and, in Jesus, weeps at a friend’s grave. If the cradle sanctifies anything, it sanctifies nearness. The cross confirms it: Love does not stand at the edge of suffering with folded arms; it steps toward the wounded and calls them “neighbor.”
Please, keep Christ in Christmas. But do not stop there. Keep Christ in Christian. Keep the tenderness that touches the untouchable, the patience that listens to the silenced, the mercy that moves from feeling to action. Empathy is the furthest thing from a sin; it is the soil in which Christian love takes root. For a Christianity that cannot feel will soon fail to love — and a church that trades empathy for power may gain the world and lose the Christ whose name it bears.
(The Rev. Jonathan B. Hall is senior pastor of the First Christian Church of North Hollywood. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of Religion News Service.)
Truth2Freedom's Blog 