The Unlikely Places: Luke 2:1-7

So let's read the Christmas story.

There are many accounts in the Gospels.

I'm going to read from Luke chapter 2, verses 1 through 7.

Luke 2:1–7

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered.

This was the first registration when Corinius was governor of Syria, and all went to be registered, each to his own town.

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with the child.

And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth.

And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

Yeah, this is the word of God.

It's fascinating what we know about this account because Luke, of all the gospel writers, he was the historian.

He was the careful note-taker, making sure that everything was just so, not making anything up.

I think the gospel writers knew that there would be many people who would come after them who just would refuse to believe what was written, what was reported.

I mean, it is rather bizarre, isn't it?

Some of the things that we read in the account.

We're going to talk about what's so hard about this to believe.

And people have not believed it ever since.

Many people have not believed it, but many, many people have.

And so Luke, the historian, tells us these facts.

And you know, Washington, D.C.

has lots of event coordinators.

Our own church has a few good event coordinators.

But I've got to ask myself, who who planned this?

Who planned this?

It's not what I would have expected at all.

I mean, Jesus born basically in a barn, in poverty, and shortly after had to was on the run away from the Romans.

Just so different from what we would have expected when Jesus left heaven and all the glories that he had with the Father from all time.

You know, there was never a time that Jesus didn't exist.

Jesus has always been because he is God.

But he came to be God in the flesh for us.

If many people today, as well as then, just think, well, this is fiction.

Nobody would do it like this.

If Christians, if Christmas is only or mainly fiction, then it doesn't really matter much, does it, about the details?

I mean, if it's a story, if it's just a made-up story, who really cares about these details?

But if in fact it was historic, if in fact it happened in real time, in a real place, in a small little town named Bethlehem, and Jesus was born there, then it really does matter historically.

Luke is the only gospel writer who gives us this historical background and dates the birth.

He dates the birth to the days of Caesar Augustus, the first Caesar.

His name was Octavian, the first Caesar to receive the title of emperor.

And we know that he was a very proud man.

We get this from Roman history, the annals of Roman history.

He was a very arrogant guy.

And he wanted his kingdom to extend as far as it possibly could.

You know, Israel is a pretty long way from Rome.

And yet we read in this account that Caesar decreed that he wanted every last dollar that could be raised in his kingdom.

And so, because of that, he issues this decree and he says, look, wherever you are, even in Israel, I'm going to tax you.

You need to be accounted for, and I'm going to tax you.

So go back to your family heritage.

Go back to the town that your family came from.

Octavian, the first Caesar, you know what the title of his emperor was the savior of the whole world.

He had the audacity to promote that.

That there were Roman towns that had that inscription on their walls.

The savior of the whole world.

Isn't that ironic?

The comparison between him and Jesus.

He was power-hungry, a proud man who lusted for more power and control, issuing this decree that this census should be taken.

One commentator put it like this: his relentless arm stretched out to squeeze its tribute, even in a tiny village as far away as the Mediterranean.

Thus it came about that this village carpenter and his teenage bride were forced to travel over a hundred miles to be registered and to be taxed.

I mean, this is all documented historically.

This isn't fiction.

So many people today just write it off as that.

Caesar had no idea what impact his decree would set in motion.

He thought this was about his kingdom.

Another commentator puts it like this God was taking Caesar's pawn and moving them to checkmate so that the real king would stand alone as the king of kings.

That's exactly what happened in history.

And so everyone went to their own town to register.

And so Joseph and Mary make the long, hard trip because by now Mary's far along in her pregnancy.

But she would either walk or ride on a donkey at this stage in her pregnancy, not comfortable at all.

To Bethlehem, a most unlikely place.

A most unlikely place for a Savior, the King of the world, to be born.

I mean, if you'd planned it, if I'd planned it, I think I would have wanted him born in the big city of Jerusalem.

I would have wanted everyone to know.

Put out all the announcements.

Honor, honor this king of kings.

But no, in this hamlet, really, of a village.

He came.

Micah the prophet prophesied five centuries before he came and said he would in fact be born in the city of David, Bethlehem.

We don't know why, except God knew that it was the right place for his son to be born.

Verse 6 of the text, while they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son.

She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger.

Why?

Because there was no room for them in the inn.

There they were in the manger, among the animals.

All the smells, all the sights that you can imagine being in a barn with animals.

This is where he chose to be born.

Probably not a manger like you think about it.

Sharon's dad, he loved to work with wood, made us a beautiful cradle when our kids started coming.

You know, it was such a beautiful cradle that we hardly didn't want to use it.

You know, it was just something more to admire.

It wasn't like that.

No, not this manger.

This manger was probably in a cave or a barn.

We're not exactly sure.

But it was smelly, it was cold, it was dark, and they were alone.

No labor delivery team, no button to push to call for a nurse.

None of that.

And that's where he chose to be born, our Savior.

Jesus' values are not the values of this world.

The one who was rich, the Bible says, yet for our sakes he became poor, so that through his poverty we might become rich.

Jesus left heaven and all the true riches that he had known from all time to become one of us.

He wanted to get down on eye level with us.

That amazes me to this day.

He wanted to look at his people in the eye, not to look down from heaven and see and understand, which he does because he's omniscient.

But you know what it means because he looks at you at eye level and looks at me at eye level.

He knows everything that we go through.

And for some of us, it's hard.

This is a hard season for some of us.

Either because of memories of the past, the circumstances present.

Jesus understands.

He knows what you're going through this Advent season.

Because He came.

He came all the way down from heaven to take on the flesh of a man so that he would be tempted in every way like we're tempted, that he would be challenged in every way that we're challenged.

It's true.

This is not make-believe.

We are tempted to either treat this story as fiction or become so familiar to us that it no longer astonishes us.

One of my favorite, favorite poems of Christmas time is called Let the Stable Still Astonish by Leslie Leyland Fields.

Expresses this riches to Rags nature of his birth.

Listen to this poem.

Let the stable still astonish, straw dirt floor, dull eyes, dusty flanks of donkeys, oxen, crumbling crooked walls, no bed to carry that pain, and then the child, rag wrapped, laid to cry in a trough.

Who would have chosen this?

Who would have said, Yes, let the God of the heavens and earth be born here in this place?

Who but the same God who stands in the darker, fouler rooms of our hearts and says, Yes.

Let the God of heaven and earth be born here, in this place.

This poem gives me every time.

It captures the miracle of Christmas.

It captures the depth of our depravity in our dark hearts.

From the glories of heaven, he came.

A stable, not a palace.

Straw dirt floor, dusty flanks of donkeys and oxen, no bed to carry that pain, rag wrapped.

Can you imagine?

Can you imagine how unclean probably the towels and the cloths were at that point?

They hadn't just checked into their room.

Clean linens.

You can only imagine.

Lay to cry in a trough.

And so the poet raises the question: who would have chosen this?

Would you?

Would I?

Not a chance.

I would have wanted my son to have the best of accommodations.

I wanted my son to get the best treatment possible.

Who would have chosen this?

Yes, let the God of the heavens and the earth be born here in this place.

Let the stable still astonish.

Let's focus on that verb for a moment, astonished.

To strike with sudden and great wonder or surprise.

Does the message of Christmas still astonish us?

Or have we just written it off as fantasy?

Or have we just gotten so familiar with it that we're no longer astonished?

It just seems matter-of-fact.

Like everything else we do in the Christmas season.

We go shopping at the mall.

We put up the tree.

We buy presents.

All these other things that you just do, maybe.

Is this among those things?

Is this one more on that list?

I pray not.

The message of Christmas should astonish us.

Jesus did not leave heaven and come to earth simply to give us a little inspiration, okay?

He didn't come to give us a little touch on the edges, some cosmetic touch, just so that we would have a little bit better life.

No way.

No.

Think about what really happened in the incarnation.

Jesus did not do his work from a distance.

No, he came as close as he possibly could.

He abandoned the glories of heaven to accept the limitations of earth.

J.C.

Ryle, theologian, put it like this many years ago.

We see here in this story the grace and the condescension of Christ.

If he would have come to save mankind with royal majesty, surrounded by his father's angels, it would have been an act of undeserved mercy.

Had he chosen to dwell in a palace with power and great authority, we would have reason enough to wonder and to be thankful.

But to become poor as the very poorest of mankind, and lowly as the very lowliest, this is a love that passes and transcends all understanding.

Would you agree?

Why this way?

Ryle goes on to say, it is unspeakable and unsearchable.

Never let us forget that through his humiliation, Jesus has purchased for us a title to glory.

This is the message of Christmas.

Why didn't He reconcile us?

Why didn't He redeem us from afar?

Because in order to become our substitute, He had to taste our sadness.

In order to be our substitute one day on the cross, He needed to identify with us and be tempted in every way that we're tempted, to be challenged in every way that we're challenged.

It was not any easier for him than it is for you.

This is the incarnation.

Through his humiliation, Jesus purchased for us a title to glory.

His birth, his life, his death was the pattern of his life.

It astonishes me that he signed off on this.

He didn't push back.

Father, surely there's a better plan.

Father, surely there's another way we can do this.

This is how much he loves you.

That's what it means.

To become one like you, to know you, to understand, to sympathize, to empathize with whatever you faced or whatever you're facing now.

This was necessary.

From the manger to the grave.

No one else has ever done, no one else can do.

Let me go back to the poem.

Who but the same God who stands in the darker, fouler rooms of our hearts?

This is what really gets me.

It's not just that he left heaven to come to earth.

Who but the same God who stands in the darker, fouler rooms of my heart, our hearts, and says, Yes, let this God be born here, in this place.

It's one thing that he was born in a stable, but that he would choose to be born in me, that he would choose to be born in you.

That does astonish me.

If we know ourselves, if we know our sinful hearts, if we know how quick we are to trying to control our life, other people, our greed.

Oh, our sins are many, aren't they?

Who would have chosen this?

The text tells us, for unto us a child is born, unto us a child is given.

This child was born on earth to be born in us.

Born on earth.

The prepositions matter.

Born on earth to be born in us.

He couldn't be born in us until he was first born on earth.

So my my question for us tonight as we continue to think is is there room in your heart?

Or have you pushed a mat?

Have you filled your life with so many other things and you have your own plans and your own agendas for your life?

Is there any room?

Is there any room to acknowledge who he is?

Not just to admire him.

You know, many, many people admire him.

That's never the question.

The question is not do you admire him?

The question is, are you do you worship him?

Have you received him as your Lord?

As you've received him as your Savior.

That's the question.

Is there room in your heart?

Is there room in my heart?

Or is it just already full of so many other things?

No, we're not here tonight to admire him.

We're here to admit him into our heart and to thank him again.

Lord Jesus, now we we do thank you.

We thank you for coming.

We thank you for leaving the glories of heaven.

And though we don't nearly fully understand it, we accept it to be truth because the Bible says it.

Jesus, thank you for coming to be the Savior of the world.

Caesar Augustus could never do that.

No other ruler but you.

Jesus, though you were born a baby in a manger, and you lived a hard life, and you suffered a cruel death, but you were raised from the dead on the third day.

Again, historically attested to.

We acknowledge you.

Tonight we receive you.

Tonight we make room for you.

Tonight we just say thank you for loving us.

Amen.