God’s Character is Our Lifeline

Some years ago, I was traveling through California with my family, and we occasioned to cross the mighty Sacramento River via ferry (indeed, you read that correctly.  It was an Oregon Trail moment, although we were not obliged to caulk the minivan and float it across the river).  After a short wait, as the ferry eventually began to move across the calm river, some of us did not even notice, so smooth and quiet was the transition (and the realization was, yes, the most riveting moment of the entire crossing).

Sadly, the transition from the bedrock of godly faithfulness to the unsounded ocean of spiritual apathy is often much the same.  We do not always take note of our passing from terra firma to gloomy waters.  The truly difficult and tragic part comes when we look about and comprehend at last that we are adrift in this expansive ocean of spiritual sluggishness, but, by definition, find ourselves unable to overcome the strong currents which have been pulling us from the shore. 

 What does this look like in the believer's life?  A Christian realizes that he has grown distant from the Lord by his own inaction.  His misspent energies have propelled him away from his Savior, and he is repulsed (though perhaps not very strongly) by the selfish pride he finds issuing freely from his own heart.  This Christian knows what he must do - he must draw near to the Lord through prayer and through the study of God's Word, but one thing remains elusive:  conviction.  Prayers are stuttered until their momentum is squandered.  The mind returns to other pursuits.  The Bible is read, but it is cursory and halfhearted.  The eyes falter and the heart is unmoved.  The apathy deepens.  Does this sound at all familiar, reader? 

The problem is that we are attempting to rid ourselves of the apathy without addressing the very cause of the apathy.  It is like having a knife stuck in one's abdomen, and carefully applying a bandage around it.  We are saying, "I need to change my spiritual unconcern," but what we need to be saying is, "I need to refocus my selfish and wayward heart upon the Lord."  It is a subtle change on the surface, perhaps, but it makes worlds of difference - one seeks to repair self, while the other desires to return to a humble intimacy with God.  Do you see that the first statement has not served to remove our gaze from ourselves, and so is not very far removed from the condition of apathy?  Spiritual apathy is the result of spiritual distance.  Spiritual humilty is the fuel that diminishes this distance.

 

It seems, then, that the best course is to lay ourselves entirely aside for the time being, stop worrying about our apathy in and of itself, and start considering the character of our God.  Open the Psalms, not because they are easy or lightweight, but because you are certain to find the Lord's true praises proclaimed for His name and deeds.  Seek that praiseworthy character, and when you have found even a morsel of it, stop and consider it in all of its glory.  Savor the excellence of your God, friend!  Marvel at His flawless character - look as intently as you like, for you will never discover even the tiniest fault.  Take whichever element of His fame you have come across in the Psalms, and think how your Lord, by means of this attribute, continues to affect your life.  Are you pondering His unchanging character?  Then rejoice that this faithfulness allows you trust His promises!  Perhaps you see His justice, and you know therefore that you are secure in your salvation. 

This is a rich and generous tally of blessings indeed, and it steels a heart with joy to delve into it, for God has made us both to interact with His character and to desire His character.  We understand His character as it touches upon our lives - we are rendered humble and grateful when we see Him near and at work.  Look for Him, brother!  Do not rest until your desire for the Lord is rekindled, sister!  We cannot and should not expect satisfaction from merely human pursuits or human excellencies - God has designed us to desire more (Ecc. 3:11), and we cannot be content with any less.

 

Immerse yourself in the Lord, then, and be glad for His excellencies.  Go to Him in prayer, for it is from this stronghold that we praise Christ unselfishly, that we seek His forgiveness readily, and that we beseech His intervention earnestly, even if it is intervention in our own languid hearts.  Put simply, it is here that apathy becomes but a memory, for the heart that made glad by God's character is not one that remains unmoved by His grace and His promises. 

 

"Great are the works of the Lord;
They are studied by all who delight in them.
Splendid and majestic is His work,
And His righteousness endures forever.

He has made His wonders to be remembered;
The Lord is gracious and compassionate."

- Psalm 111:2-4

Glory Without Love

In the brief history of this blog, we have already made much mention about God's glory - its importance and pre-eminence in the world.  This is not a lament, for indeed, how could the grateful recipients of His perfect and continual grace ever say too much about His glory?  Having said this, it must be acknowledged that we do run a risk of painting a lopsided portrait of our Lord if we prove careless in our rapture. 

Here is the risk.  If everything around us, including evil, has its being so that God may display His glory to tremendous degree (as we posited with almost painful brevity in How Glorious Is Glorious?), then what does this say about the genuineness of His love for us?  If God's goal is to display His glory, does this mean that His love is just a means to that end?  Put simply, does the pre-eminence of His glory diminish the quality of His love?

Three independent lines of thought should converge to offer some certainty in this matter about our loving Father.

1.  God's character is holy.  "This is the message we have heard from Him and announce to you," says John in 1 John 1:5, "that God is Light, and in Him there is no darkness at all."  God is overflowing with moral purity, and, as we know that God does not change (Mal. 3:16, Jas. 1:17), that moral purity is adorned with an impregnable integrity as well.  Put simply, God is holy, and He will never, ever be anything but perfectly holy.  Thus if He has put into His Word that He is love (1 John 4:8), we know that we absolutely must trust in His unimpeachable truthfulness.  He is not something resembling love, but rather love itself! 

He who cannot lie (Titus 1:2) has disclosed Himself indelibly as a God of love, and His bedrock holiness guarantees further that this love is uncorrupted by even the smallest vein of selfishness, impatience, or pride.

2.  The linguistic nature of God's love, as described in the Bible, demonstrates its reality.  God is "abounding in lovingkindness" (Ps. 103:8b, etc.).  "Lovingkindness" here is chesed in the Hebrew, the very idea of which moves beyond mere obligation into the realm of generosity.¹  By no means may we accuse the Lord of doing only the bare minimum in relation to us His children - the very language of His book declares that He goes above and beyond.  The extra mile (or extra lightyear?) which God covers in His faithful love demonstrates that more is at work than merely pretending a loving demeanor.

The New Testament likewise affirms this.  Here, the operative word for love is, of course, agape, with which we are all no doubt familiar, but one exemplary foray into scripture will uncover some exegetical paydirt.  Christ prays to the Father, "and I have made Your name known to them, and will make it known, so that the love with which You loved Me may be in them, and I in them." (John 17:26) Here Christ declares that the agape love which the Father has for Him will also be directed toward His disciples, and, by extension, the rest of His followers.  If there is weight in God's love toward His own divine Son, then there is also in His love toward us.  This thought should provoke praise from hearts astonished into greater humility; amen? 

3.  The reality of His glory is predicated upon the reality of His love.  Notice how the psalmist describes God revealing His glory (Ps. 98:2-3):
"The Lord has made known His salvation;
He has revealed His righteousness in the sight of the nations.
He has remembered His lovingkindness and His faithfulness to the house of Israel;
All the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God."

He demonstrates His salvation, His righteousness, His faithfulness, and yes, His lovingkindness, and so shows a generous measure of glory.  Mark this well, though:  God's glory, then, becomes reliant upon the reality of these different outpourings of divine character - His glory is not what it purports to be if, say, His righteousness is a farce, and so forth.  He has therefore tied the actuality of His glory to the truth of His love (and other wondrous things), and were His love a travesty, His glory would fall short - a gold veneer applied to a helium balloon. 


For these reasons, and others like them, we believers may rest in the certainty of divine love.  By no means does God's desire to display His glory diminish the reality of His love - in truth, the glory is seen in the reality of the love!  Our Lord has laid upon our grateful hearts a love so incalculable, so pure, so real, that we are powerless to equal it.  "See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we would be called children of God; and such we are." (1 John 3:1a)

And such we are.



1:  Vine, W.E., Merrill F. Unger, & William White, Jr.  Vine's Complete Expository Dictionary of Old and New Testament Words.  Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1996.  p. 142.

Grace in the Midst of Abandonment

(continued from The Grim Specter of Abandonment)

Taken as a whole, Paul's words in 2 Timothy 4 (which we examined in the last posting) suggest four attitudes which are right and becoming to a believer involved in the Lord's ministry (as all believers, by the way, should be).

1. Companions may come and go. An earlier statement by Paul had promised Timothy that persecution was a certainty for believers in the pursuit of godliness (1 Tim. 3:12). The most grievous barbs, however, often do not come at the hands of unbelievers, but of those within our very ranks. A foot soldier that rushes to meet the enemy is not surprised by a score of arrows thumping into his shield; it is the one that falls upon his back that perplexes and grieves him the most.

Paul's courageous scruples commended him to his God, but not always to his fellows. His boldness exposed sin, condemned false belief, and challenged true belief to greater faithfulness and godly pursuits. His gospel was keen and his standard was godly, as ours must be. If we are encouraging our fellow believers to pursue Christ with divinely-gifted strength, however lovingly, we are almost certain to lose a friend or two at some point (or at many points). Charisma and compassion cannot always salve the sting of conviction, even if that conviction was never intended, and though we may passionately communicate our best intentions, sometimes simply the exemplary (though imperfect) quality of our Christian lives will eventually compel certain others to distance themselves.

2. Compassion must continue toward our wayward brothers and sisters. Paul's considered response to the desertion perpetrated upon him by the Roman saints was to pray for their forgiveness from the Lord (v. 16).  We may conclude, then, that this act by the Christians in that city was indeed sinful and not merely poor or imperfect judgment, as only sin would call for forgiveness. Paul, however, was not entrenched in thoughts of revenge or personal undeservedness, but sought for the growth and benefit of those who had slighted him with their distance and quiet.

It is devilishly easy to be personally affected by the sins of others, especially when that sin crowds upon us, but frankly, any personal offense which we could muster is far outweighed by the affront to God which sin, by definition, constitutes. When we are humbly serving our great Lord, divine humility quiets our clamoring and injured pride, and when we feel the sting of sin against us, the need for comeuppance is far eclipsed by the urge to see this person right with the Master to whom we are enslaved. The slave does not trouble with any meager personal affronts when his or her loving Master has been offended.

3. One is enough if God is at work. Napoleon and Alexander could not conquer the smallest village without their armies, but such is not the case with almighty God. If God found Himself quite abandoned by the whole of mankind (which has never and will never happen), could He not breathe a word of authority such that the very rocks would proclaim His glory? Would the loftiest of peaks hesitate to move aside at the mere sound of His voice? Are the seas not sundered, and the flowing rivers not confounded, by His sovereign decree? He declares in His majesty, "Who has given to Me that I should repay him? Whatever is under the whole heaven is Mine." (Job 41:11)

Paul's words are clear and decisive: "nor is He served by human hands, as though He needed anything, since He Himself gives to all people life and breath and all things." (Acts 17:25) Picture, if you will, this omnipotent, sovereign, self-existent God, at work through His people. Does He require a great host? Can human strength augment His might? No! He dispatches one prophet, solitary and unwilling, to a great pagan city called Ninevah, and an incomprehensible multitude is saved. If we find ourselves isolated in our kingdom work, we long for the blessing of fellowship, but we revel in the glorious blessing of God's continued faithfulness and assured purpose as we work!

4. The Lord's faithfulness is undiminished by the unfaithfulness of others. In this 2 Timothy 4 passage, Paul affirms God's faithfulness both in the short term (verse 17 - God stood with him, strengthening him for the complete delivery of the gospel to his opposers and keeping him from death) and in the long term (verse 18 - the Lord would continue to preserve Paul's soul unto a blessed and rich eternity, even against the evil designs of those around him, no doubt, in both the natural and the supernatural realm).

How pleasing it is to consider that when Christ said, "lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:20b), He attached no provisos. He did not pronounce, "I am with you, as long as you keep your companions and make it worth My while," but simply, "I am with you always." This is a momentous statement, pregnant with divine omniscience and immutability. Though a thousand dear companions turn aside and make scorn, envy, or apathy their camp, yet we will not despair, so long as sin has not adorned our hearts, and so long as our God carefully accompanies us, even as He has promised! His plans are as healthy and as certain as they were before the worlds existed.


There is a certain glory when God's people come together and harmoniously minister for His name.  We see God, the great Designer, the great Orchestrator, the great Leader, at work within His workers, and it charms our hearts as believers to behold this blessing.  There is a different glory, however, when God's people must soldier on alone, or as a band that is smaller than it once was.  Here the sufficiency, faithfulness, and compassion of the Sovereign come to the forefront, and though our hearts are freighted with fresh sadness, we nevertheless appreciate our God all the more in spite of, and even because of, the heaviness in our own hearts, and we continue on in the glad certainty of His continued graces. 

The Grim Specter of Abandonment

Demas, Phygelus, Hermogenes, John Mark, the Corinthian church, the believers in the Asian province, the church in Rome, and even Barnabas - all of these at one point or another, for one reason or another, deserted the apostle Paul.  Some would return later, sparking immense joy, while the fate of others is lost to antiquity.  What would happen later was, in a way, immaterial - they abandoned Paul in the midst of a kingdom campaign, creating immediate and saddening reverberations throughout his ministry.  The workers dwindled, but the work was always there; the road always stretching longer before his eyes. 

Paul, in the dimmest twilight of his life, delivered these devastating words to Timothy:  "At my first defense no one supported me, but all deserted me; may it not be counted against them." (2 Tim. 4:16) Paul stood trial in Rome before the highest levels of government, and he was obliged to do so entirely alone.  None of the countless converts who had been introduced to Christ by his bold proclamation, none of the brothers and sisters who had labored alongside him, none of the believers in all that city stood at his side.  Many of his dearest brothers and sisters were scattered across hundreds of miles and countless settlements, but Paul's words suggest that there were saints near at hand who pointedly chose to dissociate from the weary and manacled apostle.

The apostle follows this heartbreaking statement with something rather surprising, though.  "But the Lord stood with me and strengthened me, so that through me the proclamation might be fully accomplished, and that all the Gentiles might hear; and I was rescued out of the lion’s mouth.  The Lord will rescue me from every evil deed, and will bring me safely to His heavenly kingdom; to Him be the glory forever and ever. Amen." (2 Tim. 4:17-18)

Lord, grant it us to respond in this manner!  A tenacious hold on the truth, as well as a desire to minister for the Lord in some capacity, will almost certainly see us lose a friend or two along the way, sadly.  Truth divides, as it must, and sometimes the effect of earnest faithfulness in one believer is the exposure of subtle unfaithfulness in another.  The convicted believer (or an offended unbeliver, for that matter) may well recoil, and what then is our recourse?  We check our own lives and hearts for sin, of course, and for issues of Christian liberty - anything that might have offended our brother or sister.  If any fault is uncovered, we deal with it strongly and humbly.  If, however, we are in the right, what can we do?  Our hands are clean, but our hearts are baffled.

(To be continued in Grace in the Midst of Abandonment)

Practical Theology: Irresistible Grace in Evangelism

A young man, a wealthy ruler, comes before Jesus, and, kneeling, asks simply, "Good Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?" (Mark 10:17) Christ's response (vv. 18-21) is, to say, the least, indirect.  The word "repent" does not leave His lips, and neither does "believe."  Both of these are implicit in the conversation, but He leaves them unsaid.  He asks a question.  He makes a few simple statements.  The man answers rather unrealistically.  Christ issues a command.  The wealthy ruler walks away, devastated and apparently unsaved (v. 22).  And so this familiar story leaves us. 

Surely Christ was operating within the realm of divine prerogative as He interacted with this man.  The nagging question, though, is this:  if Christ had taken a gentler, less demanding approach, would this man have been saved?  A related question - could this man have been saved, had he been allowed at this time to enter into the fellowship of true belief, just as veteran churchgoers are sometimes suddenly saved in today's churches? 

We can answer both these questions with some further consideration.  Christ answered as He did in order to reveal the character of the man's beliefs.  The young man's convictions did not permit him to submit himself to Christ, either as Savior (v. 20) or as Lord (v. 22), and neither is optional for salvation (cf. John 3:36, Luke 14:27).  The point is simple:  in this invaluable example, Jesus was not moved by a simple profession or a bare question - He drove His gospel in as deeply as was needed in order to outwardly prove or disprove the man's belief, and He did it with sincere compassion (v. 21).  He was unafraid to get to the bottom of this urgent matter, and He did so perceptively and lovingly. 

A few objections will surely sound out here:

1.  "This is the omniscient Christ - we can hardly be said to have this sort of insight into people around us."  This is true, but this does not hinder our knowledge and understanding of the gospel, and it is from this perspective that we operate.  People differ, but the old gospel was written by hands far stronger and timeless than ours.  If someone comes to us seeking to understand the gospel, we must give it to them with all of its force, with all of its urgency, and with all of its requirements, lest they come short of salvation.

2.  "Who are we to judge people's hearts?"  This is a terrible sort of assumption.  Judgment is neither meant nor required here.  Let us create a (somewhat imperfect) picture.  Your friend is standing upon an actively crumbling ledge above some yawning chasm.  He is not silent; he is crying for help.  There is a ladder behind him, and you point it out, describing this ladder and how it must be used.  You demonstrate it several times.  You explain it again.  He declines to use the ladder and turns away, having become upset that you are judging his heart.  If this sounds absurd, you have grasped the intent. 

If a person is truly humble before the Lord, grievously conscious of sin, and seeking to repent before a holy God, then no part of the gospel will work as a deterrent.  The powerful truth of the gospel will at first be a hot blade to the heart of such a person as he or she is laid low by the knowledge of personal sin, but it will become as honey upon the lips as this person approaches, once and for all, to dine at God's own table, invited by His grace and drawn by His might.  On the other hand, a feigned humility or inappropriate presumption on the part of such a person will only be flushed out by the true gospel, as it was with the rich young ruler, and this is no great loss, for this is not the sort of attitude that a holy God honors with salvation.

3.  "Will we not unduly dissuade people from Christianity?"  This question is perhaps the most important of all, for, were this true, it would create a formidable moral dilemma indeed.  We need not, however, explore this possibility, for God's Word strangles it with its usual blessed clarity:  "All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will certainly not cast out...This is the will of Him who sent Me, that of all that He has given Me I lose nothing, but raise it up on the last day."  These words, spoken by Jesus in John 6:37 and 39, create a compelling picture of the Father's sovereign purposes at work - He gives His elect to Christ, and all that He gives will surely come to Christ.  In other words, we have landed upon the great truth of scripture which theologians like to call "irresistible grace."  It grants a lasting comfort to us in this matter.

If God is sure to win the souls He calls, as John 6 indicates, then the temptation to cheapen the gospel, to soften it so it may slip inoffensively into a reluctant heart, loses all of its teeth.  As God has divinely lavished the full measure of certainty in salvation, then the thought that we humans should try to add a further certainty of our own sort is intrusive and dangerous.  We either do not trust His work, or we seek to overturn it.  In fact, if we try to hurry someone into the kingdom and skirt away from a full understanding of the sinner's need for a Savior, or any other glittering facet of the gospel, we risk falsely assuring an unbeliever of his or her Christianity.  Here is a principle:  any person should be able to explain the saving gospel to someone else, from the very instant of salvation.  If this is not the case, we must question his or her understanding of the gospel, and, alongside of this, we must question his or her salvation. 

It becomes us well, then, to approach the repentant unbeliever with care and deliberateness.  Reckless haste is inappropriate:  nothing will hinder the truly repentant from salvation, certainly not a few moments of compassionate, soul-searching questions, but a glossing over of truth will never drive someone into the arms of the Lord.  No one can be cheated into the kingdom of God.  Explore the gospel with such the searching sinner with discernment and reverence.  Move to correct any misunderstandings, and rejoice if you see a truly burdened heart yearning for Christ's singular salvation!

One note further.  Jesus explained further in John 6:44 that only those whom the Father sends may come to Christ.  This removes one more reason to offer a hasty, emaciated gospel - we will certainly not sneak our friends into the kingdom this way.  No; God must be at work in a person, working His power unto salvation, and then nothing can stand in the way of that glorious salvation running its miraculous course and sweeping the glad, contrite sinner down into the ocean of grace.  How potently does God provide for our security, and how powerfully does this security arm us as we seek to bring people to Him!

Christmas and Christ's Sobering Purpose

"For truly in this city there were gathered together against Your holy servant Jesus, whom You anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, to do whatever Your hand and Your purpose predestined to occur."  These words, spoken in Acts 4:27-28 (emphasis added), tell us that there was established divine intention behind the crucifixion and death of Christ.  It is the predetermined nature of this purpose that concerns us at this time of year, for it means that this purpose was in place even as Christ was born. 

For this reason, we cannot consider the birth of Christ without the death of Christ invading our thinking.  He came with a divinely-imparted anointing to serve as the great sacrificial Lamb.  There would be an abundance of teaching, and of example, and of proof of His divinity and messianic mission, but all would culminate in His death and resurrection, wherein He would conquer death and exhaust the inexhaustible wrath of God intended for His children in an unprecedented display of divine grace. 

All of this was in the mind of God, and indeed was set into motion, at the birth of Christ.  The Savior never deviated, willfully or accidentally, from His direct course toward the cross.  At the very first step of this momentous journey, the angelic host announced to the shepherds, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased." (Luke 2:14) As we ponder this peace, we realize that it is not a Hallmark Channel sort of peace in which gruff but lovable people are reconciled after years of hostility.  There is a curious notion today that Christmas itself (or often "the spirit of Christmas," which is never defined, but always seems to reside in the hearts of children on television) is sufficient to bring about a wondrous sort of peace between people.  Perhaps the thought is that Christmas simply brings out the best in people, or even that God works during the Christmas season with the simple purpose of increasing our love for each other.

We must get these purely humanistic notions out of our heads.  When we see the unbelieving world using Christmas solely as an opportunity to join together and love one another, do we not understand that this is worthless, tragic, even vile in God's sight?  It should break our hearts!  What satisfaction can God have in love that is not based in Him?  Is unity pleasant to His heart if His grace is not the bond of that unity?  We must sweep the stars from our eyes and see that these are people who are going to hell, and no well-wishing or kind gestures on their parts can remove them from this deserved fate.  It is like watching skydivers rocketing toward an erupting volcano - and then smiling as they join hands to make a formation as they plummet. 

The peace that was proclaimed on that wondrous night is, incredibly, peace with God.  Christ came to bring people peace with their Creator.  The very God who was, at every moment, slighted and angered anew by the sins of His creations, and who would someday judge them eternally for those sins, was at the very same time, extending an offer of grace, of peace, to these very people.  This peace, then, was a peace that was calculated to keep us from eternal destuction, offered by our divine Opponent, and bought with precious, divine, innocent blood, the blood of the very God whom we have offended so keenly.  It is a peace that utterly obliterates our petty, trifling notions of human peace and crushes its rubble with a mountain of pure grace, a strong mountain that all of eternity will not wear down.  This is worthy of our devotion, our thanksgiving, and our proclamation as we bear down on Christmas this year.  Amen? 

Peace with God, by the blood of Christ, who came as a baby, with a divine appointment.  "For it was the Father’s good pleasure for all the fullness to dwell in Him, and through Him to reconcile all things to Himself, having made peace through the blood of His cross..." (Col. 1:19-20b)

Grace and Humility: The Story of the Shepherds

It must have been strange enough from Joseph's perspective, to be standing in a stable as the father to a brand-new Child, the divine Child, laid in a manger for a crib.  But then, to hear quick footfalls and turn to see a group of breathless shepherds, who had obviously been running through the night, stop at this stable and gaze at this Child with a wide-eyed astonishment which all but announced that they had found what they so intently sought - a wholly new experience for this young carpenter, to be sure. 

But then, surely it must have been odd for the shepherds as well, as they stood there, breathing, their hands hanging empty when they had so constantly gripped the rod in careful protection of their now vulnerable flocks.  And now, before them - a family settled into a stable for the night with a newborn laid in a feeding trough.  Who knows but under different circumstances, a chuckle might have escape their lips, or a smirk pulled at their cheeks, to see such a thing? 

Certainly no bemused smiles were to be seen that night, though.  They came not listlessly, but with urgency and purpose:  they sought the Child which the angel of the Lord, blazing the lonely night with the glory of God, had proclaimed to them.  This in itself was a curiosity - the glory displayed through the angelic herald, and through the heavenly host, spoke powerfully of the greatness of the Child.  The angel's description - the promised Messiah, the needed Savior, the proclaimed Lord - would have further assured them that this was a matter of great importance, even if it was not apparent that by "Lord," "Lord of all heaven and earth" was intended.  So they hastened into town, determined to find Jesus (Luke 2:16).

In spite of the majesty and the grandeur which obviously lay within the infant Jesus, the angels did not go up to Jerusalem and proclaim these tidings.  The great kings of the world were not visited.  The religious chiefs of Israel were passed over, in favor of a handful of hardy shepherds of no consequence.  In that day and that time, shepherds were regarded as untrustworthy, unsavory characters, to the point that they were not permitted to testify in court,¹ so it is richly ironic that God should so graciously choose such as them to testify of the arrival of the Savior (Luke 2:17).  These were Christ's first earthly messengers, not clothed in pomp and regality, as befits a king, but in unwashed working clothes.

These shepherds were favored not only with a dazzling vista of divine glory and heavenly joy, but with the offer of staggering grace.  "...For today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:11; emphasis added) This Jesus would extend the offer of salvation specifically to these shepherds, just as He would specifically to countless others!  One cannot help but be reminded of Colossians 3:11b and its description of our renewal in Christ:  "no distinction between Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and freeman, but Christ is all, and in all."  Our heavenly Father impartially adopts us into His family, and we are made brothers and sisters to each other just as truly as we become sons and daughters to Him.  Thus does a simple Roman jailer worship alongside a wealthy Jewish woman in Acts 16, and a prominent Pharisee-turned-apostle draw spiritual comfort from a young believer of mixed parentage in 2 Timothy 4:11.  The gospel is offered to all, and Christ, through His powerful grace, draws His people from all walks of life, to the praise of His name!

That unforgettable night, it was granted finally to the shepherds to visit the Child and gaze upon Him with seeking eyes and wondering hearts.  This brings us back to the beginning.  As they beheld Jesus, one cannot but wonder if the ordinariness of the scene might have assaulted their consciences.  Here was a masterful, anointed Savior from heaven, celebrated by the realm of holiness, and when He came to earth, there was nothing of the glory He so clearly deserved.  He rested His head on straw, and He was attended by sinful parents and sinful shepherds.  Mark this:  any personal excursion into humanity constitutes a relinquishment of indescribable and divine glory for Christ, no matter what the circumstances.  The situation in question, however, represented perhaps one of the greatest descents into humility imaginable.  He came not to be served, but to serve (Mark 10:45).  He waded unflinchingly into the thick of humanity. 

Ironically, in so laying aside His glory, Jesus saw His name exalted over all others (Phil. 2:5-9).  At the same time, He also laid down for us an example of the godly attitude which we must emulate as His followers (Phil. 2:5), and herein lies the principle.  Jesus' humility is what afforded humanity His exemplary life, just as His grace is what provided us with His saving death.  How wonderfully both of these are realized through the story of these humble shepherds, crushed by glory as the great Shepherd arrived into their world!



1:  Taken from the Reformation Study Bible note on Luke 2:8 - available under "Show resources" at http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=luke%202&version=NASB.