Springwood Presbyterian Church: Whitsett, NC

Isaiah 52: 7-10 (both passages from Message version)
Luke 2: 8-20      

                                                         12-27-09

          Shepherding was men’s work: hard, physical, often dangerous.  I imagine, however, that a  woman might occasionally take it up if her husband was ill, if she was widowed, if she never married and there was no brother in her family to do the work.

A Shepherd Remembers

A baby?  A baby!  Angels from heaven sent us to see…a baby!  The angels came to us in the fields and said our long-awaited Messiah had finally come!  And there, there in the dark countryside, the angels lit up the night as they praised God, saying, Glory to God in the highest heaven; and on earth, peace, good will to all people.

You’d better believe we headed straight to town to see what was going on.  The angels were right: there was a brand-new baby boy, in the feed trough of a hillside cave where the innkeeper lodged his animals.  The little fella’s mama and daddy were hovering over him like one of my ewes with her first lamb.  Except for the place, it might have been any young family.  And yet… this wasn’t just any stable, any family, any new baby.  Somehow we knew we were in God’s presence—he was God, there with us.  We dropped to our knees praising God.  We still do.

It was the registration that brought them in—hundreds of people who’d probably never before set foot in our little village.  Their parents or grandparents or great grandparents had left here long years before.  Still, they had to come to be counted, so Rome could get its taxes.  Rome always gets its taxes.  So the people flocked in.  “Flocked” is right—they were just like my flock of sheep—running to and fro, looking for shelter and food.  There were way too many for Bethlehem to handle.  Some of the people had to camp in the fields outside town.  That’s why we shepherds were so near Bethlehem that night.  We wanted to sell the travelers some of our sheep’s milk and cheese so we’d have cash to pay our own taxes.

Anyway, it was no wonder there was no place for the pregnant woman and her husband at the inn.  The innkeeper had been turning folks away all week.  Still, he did offer her shelter in that cave he used for a stable.  He even cleaned out a corner for them, himself—put fresh straw in there—sent his daughter with leftover bread and soup.  I heard he didn’t charge so much as a single copper lepton for it, either, even though they stayed on for several weeks.  No one has ever accused that innkeeper of generosity, but perhaps his heart was stirred by that God-baby, the way mine was.

Maybe I feel so close to him because he was a shepherd, too—a shepherd of souls.  He’s the one the prophet said would come from Bethlehem to shepherd the people.  (Micah 5:2)  God he was—God he is, and yet, he was like me, too.  Now, I know I’m not good through and through, the way Jesus was—but I’m a better person now than I used to be, before he came.

That baby sure changed a lot of minds about God.  You know, we used to think of God as a giant King Herod—all-powerful, living far away, ready to kill anybody who made him mad.  We went to the Temple every year to offer sacrifices to God, but that was pretty much the same as paying taxes to Rome.  If we didn’t, we figured God would punish us.  But when Jesus was with us, we could see that, yes, God is all-powerful, but loving and kind at the same time; and not far away at all.  He was right here on earth with us.  Emmanuel, that’s what that other prophet called him—Emmanuel, meaning “God’s with us.”  We hadn’t realized God cares about us little people.  When God sent him to us, it made us remember the old scriptures about the Lord as a shepherd, a nursing mother, a loving father, a refuge for the weary.  Jesus showed us that God’s power can come through a helpless baby, instead of through a conquering army. 

Later, he showed us God’s power could conquer even death.  After that, we stopped making sacrifices at the Temple, stopped trying to buy God off with birds and grain and animals.  Now we worship by praising God, giving thanks for Jesus, and giving whatever we have that he can use—our gold, our silver, our very selves.

Our selves.  Now there’s a big change.  We shepherds were astonished God wanted us to be the first to learn the Messiah was born.  Why us?  “Good” people wouldn’t have anything to do with us, calling us “unclean.”  Well, you know we couldn’t follow all the laws of washing when we were out in the fields, and we always had blood on our hands and our clothes from the hurt animals.  Those proud folks figured we’d contaminate them if they got near us.  And besides, they knew what sort of rough folks we were: sure, we’d take the occasional newborn lamb before the owners knew about it, skim off a bit of the profits from the milk and cheese and wool—it was how we made ends meet in those hard times.  But … it wasn’t right.  And after we saw that baby, we changed our ways, became honest folks, even though we still couldn’t keep all those purity laws.   The way I give myself is to be honest in all my dealings, to be kind, to forgive those who do me wrong, to help those who have less than I do.  I do it, because that’s what he taught us.  He’s the shepherd I follow.

It still amazes me that God came down to earth to be with us—to be like us, so we could learn to be more like God.  He told us we’re made in God’s image.  Imagine that!  Shepherds, made in God’s image!  God came to shepherds and kings, to rich and poor, to men and women, to tall and short, to handsome and plain.  God came for the whole world, and the world hasn’t been the same for me since.

So that’s the way it began: with a baby.  God came to us in the quiet night: not as a king to fear, but as a baby, to love.  This was the beginning of the time Jesus spent with us.  And then he was killed for the hope he offered us. …

Still, his death was a beginning, too.  Raising him from death, God promised us new life, too.  When we believe in him, he’s born again—in us, bringing hope anew, bringing peace to the world.  That’s the new beginning, and it’s for everyone—you, and you and you.  Come, Lord Jesus—be born in us today!