Summary 

Luke's gospel grounds Jesus’ birth in historical specifics—Caesar Augustus's decree, Quirinius's governorship, the mandatory census. Mary and Joseph journey to Bethlehem not by choice but by Roman command, forced into circumstances beyond their control. The timing proves inconvenient, the accommodations inadequate, the setting far from ideal. No room remains at the inn, so the Messiah arrives in a stable, surrounded by animals rather than comfort.
The shepherds receive angelic announcements while simply doing their jobs, watching flocks through another ordinary night. God interrupts the routine without fanfare or preparation. These details matter because they mirror how divine encounters happen today—in the folding of laundry, the daily commute, the unexpected crisis, the moments of feeling alone or overwhelmed.

Modern culture drowns in busyness, blinded by lights and burdened by endless choices. The traditional chaos and ritual noise drown out the still, small voice. Yet Christmas proclaims that God takes on flesh and moves into the neighborhood, pitching his tent among us. He meets people in crowded places and busy schedules, during times of inconvenience and feelings of inadequacy, when facing empty chairs or dreading family gatherings.
The message remains clear: God comes not to some idealized version of life but to the actual, ordinary existence each person lives. He appears when least expected and most needed, dwelling among us in the everyday.

Transcript

We're going to consider some of that passage, that gospel passage from Luke. So if you want to turn your bulletin there. Actually, no, first turn your bulletin to the front cover. Okay, I'm going to give you three seconds to find Mary and Joseph. Starting. Are you all there now? Wow. Okay, Gordon. Got them. Maybe some of you found them. You've had about three seconds. That's probably enough time. I don't know. Maybe you found them, maybe you didn't. Maybe like many, you don't see the Lord in this season.

I mean, we are swallowed up in busyness. I brought some of my children even today to find presents for each other. And it's Christmas Eve, and if you don't know, it's a day that pastors tend to have a little more going on and just a little more on our heads and stuff. Anyway, we get caught up in the shopping lists and the deadlines. All of the wonderful baking is taking place. And sometimes we get caught up in the worry of family meals. Is the uncle going to ask that question like he did last year? It's a real question for some of us. Sometimes we're overwhelmed with the sadness of the season because there are emptier chairs, chairs that were once filled.

There's a song that Jess has sung for us in years past for communion in this season that I love by group out of Seattle called the Sing Team. It's called Make Room. The first verse is like this. I always feel such a struggle, as some of you know. I so want to sing it. I'm not going to. It's like this. Blinded by lights, burdened with choice. That's one of the great burdens of our day. You know, we go down the chip aisle and we're frozen. Burdened with choice and distracted by the shiniest toys. The traditional chaos and the ritual noise drown out the wonder of the still, small voice.

So if you look back with me at this beautiful painting by Pieter Brueghel the Elder, what you see is just everybody seemingly going about a normal winter day in 16th century Holland. It's a Dutch scene, the 16th century. Some guy, maybe you see that actually sort of right in front of Joseph, is tapping an enormous keg, an enormous keg that's carried by these huge wheels. There's another person slaughtering a pig. It looks like there's sledding and skating taking place on the pond. People are carrying their burdens. A lot of people are carrying burdens. There's a lot of people gathered together at what is probably a store. Maybe it's an inn of sorts. There's about 200 people actually in this painting. I was reading about it this week, and it's just a busy, normal kind of life. It just depicts the mundane Dutch winter life in the 16th century.

And of course it's a deliberate anachronism. Bruegel never thought Mary and Joseph appeared in 16th century into a 16th century Dutch town. They had. He had read what we read tonight, that they made their way from Nazareth up in Galilee down down to Bethlehem in Judea. But what Bruegel is doing is what I want to suggest to you is that we must do today. He's inviting us to see Jesus and in some ways the ordinary, mundane reality of our life. What he's saying is that Jesus doesn't just come 2,000 years ago in a way, but the reality of Christmas is the gift of God, not just for them ago, but for us, the reality of Christ dwelling now today. So he depicts them in his time. And I want to suggest to you in a way that that is also what Luke does. He point points us to Jesus coming into the ordinary of our lives.

And so I want to do that this evening by highlighting for us a few details that if you have been to a Christmas Eve service or if you have heard of the Christmas story from the Bible, you likely know these details, but I want us to highlight some of them. Okay, so verse one, if you have it open there, the Luke passage, it begins this way. I'm going to read one to three. In those days, a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria and all went to be registered, each to his own town. If you know Luke, he's the doctor and he's very specific and he's wanting to tell you this happens in real time, in real space. There's a date, there's a specific event into which Jesus comes into the world.

But what I want you to see in somebody's this morning is what we have right at the beginning is that some of the ordinariness into which Jesus comes is the ordinariness which we don't choose. These are faithful Jews. Rome is in charge. Rome says, we're having a census. You need to be registered and you got to do it now. So they went. You had to do it. You had to go to your own hometown. And this is just a fact of life. Much of your life, much of the ordinariness of your life is the stuff in which you don't choose. It's forced upon you.

I read the other day that many adults actually love the contemplative, to contemplate and to have some stillness. But children, on the other hand, love action. They love play. They love movement. If you are with children tomorrow morning, observe how they unwrap. They probably won't do it the same way you do. I remember watching my dad now, he was an architect. He's a pretty meticulous person. But he would so carefully undo the wrapping, and we would just go for it. And in some of our best moments as Christians, we want to sit and be with the Lord in prayer and in His Word and contemplating his ways. And in many of those best moments is just when a fight breaks out upstairs and we are called into parental action, breaking the peaceful contemplation which we were cherishing.

I read a lovely little book a couple years back by the Catholic writer Ronald Rolheiser. Maybe some of you have read him. It's a little book titled Domestic Monastery. And the point of the book is very simple. He's suggesting that the mother's life, the mother's work, mirrors in many ways the work and the life in the monastery. The monks give themselves, give up their power over their time and over their life. And so when the bell tolls, they wake up. When the bell tolls, they go to prayer. When the bell tolls, they eat. When the bell tolls, they pray. Life is kind of put upon them. They do the work that they're told to do by the abbot. And when the baby wakes, you wake. And when the baby's hungry, you feed the baby. And your life is now, in some ways, not your own. It's sort of this life that's forced upon you. But here's the truth is that in both of those times and in those places is when sort of the value and the gift of powerlessness is learned. Oftentimes we actually meet God in the times that are forced upon us. Places where we say, I'm powerless and God is present. God often shows up when we aren't in charge in the ordinariness in which we don't choose.

Look with me at another detail that you will know. Verse 6. Maybe you have this memorized. And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. Remember that part. Why? Why this timing in God? We Christians believe that God is over all things. He speaks and the world comes into being. Certainly he can choose to be born when they're at home. When Mary and Joseph had not had to make the long journey, as I mentioned on Sunday, the journey being about 90 mil from Nazareth down to Bethlehem. Why did they meet, have to meet the promised Messiah, when all the others who are of the house and lineage of David happened to be in Bethlehem at the same time?

Why did Bruegel depict a holy family coming into town when it was winter and snow? And if you noticed who. If you found Mary, what you found was that she was bundled up. What an inconvenient time for a mother. Did Bruegel do this because Christmas happens in winter? Maybe. Maybe he's teaching us something. He took so many other liberties in the painting. I wonder if what he's saying is that God meets us in the inconvenience of it all. And I want to suggest this too, that it's true that sometimes we are more ready to receive God when things seem a bit off, when our life just doesn't seem to be going as we had planned it out to go, when we're thrown a little bit off kilter, when there isn't room in our calendar for Him. Maybe we actually meet God when we've had another fight with our spouse or when our child angrily left the house and we come face to face with our life. Is not quite what we thought, the inconvenience of life.

But there are more details here, more details that, you know, think of the shepherds sometimes, again, I think maybe often God shows up when there's just the tapping of the keg and the normal slaughter of the pig and putting on the ice skates or. Or dinner. Maybe you have these planned dinners tonight or tomorrow or festive time with friends or coffee down at little lamps doing life, right? I mean, the shepherds, verse 8. And in the same region, there were shepherds out in the field keeping watch over their flock by night. And if you were living at that time, you would have been like, yep, that's what they do, right? I mean, this is the most ordinary statement about shepherds. It's nothing like flashy. They were doing something crazy and an angel appeared to them. Nope, not at all. They're just doing normal shepherd life, watching their flock so that some other animal predator won't come and snap them away, eat them up.

But again, I want to suggest to you that this is again, the way of God. We love the mountaintop experiences. The camp high is real. The experience when you're out in the woods with friends and you're having to do something you don't think you can do, and you do create some bonds in those experiences, that is true. But so often God is present in the folding of diapers, in the normal friendships that are made over, you know, time spent playing pickleball together, hopefully not twisting your ankle. The long slug of just doing the same job day in and day out, sometimes going, I love this. Sometimes going, I don't really like this so much, maybe I should do something else. And God just ends up appearing in those just normal shepherds in the field, watching over their flocks by night moments.

Let me give you another detail, one that you will be familiar with yet again. There's no room in the inn. So verse seven tells us this. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was no place for them in the inn. Which is to say in some ways that they were alone, Mary and Joseph, more or less, they're alone. I mean, it is likely that they were around donkeys and sheep. What is the manger for? For a feeding trough, right? But they're alone. There is no room.

And think about this. In some ways, I want you to think about the details of this, this little verse, because I think it also connects with how often, how, how often is the case that God meets us in this kind of place, in the aloneness or in the feeling of man. I wish I'd planned this better. Why did this happen? How did this happen to me being cast away? The town was full for the mandated registration, the census that was commanded by the Romans, and yet it seems like they were late to the game. There was an in. Can you imagine Joseph? I can imagine being Joseph and thinking, why didn't I leave earlier? I knew that this drive was going to take me this long. And now my wife, who's nine months pregnant, might, might not have a place to rest her head and just feeling like nobody else does this kind of thing. Why am I doing this? This is alone, dejected, kind of, why can't I get my stuff together place.

How do we know there wasn't room left in the inn? Well, what we get at the end of the text is that Mary treasured all these things up in her heart. It's almost certain that Mary was the one that was sharing these stories about what had happened. And you can imagine, you know, she's sharing the story of how of all people, they nine months pregnant. I'm nine months pregnant and I go and they won't let me in. There's all these other people, you know, it's like Getting on the Metro in New York, and you're like, all the seats are taken. There's a pregnant lady. You're supposed to get up and let her in, let her sit down. A normal crazy aloneness. And of course, what mother wouldn't want the best for her child? Do you think she was thinking like, well, this will do. I don't mind giving birth to the long promised Messiah, who is conceived by the Holy Spirit next to some animals, Totally fine.

But again, I just want to suggest to you that in these details we're learning something deeply important. It's the same lesson that we're getting from Bruegel, that so often God meets us in these sort of ordinary places. And so often our ordinary lives are our lives where we feel so alone and so incapable and so wondering what is happening in my life right now, the places we least desire. He meets us when we come to the end of our abilities and the roadblocks, the plans. God comes to us in crowded places. He comes to us in busy places where we don't really want him at times when we don't expect him, when we're just going about our normal business, when we're alone.

And my guess is that as I list some of these, maybe you don't associate with all of them. But my guess is all of us associate with something. Maybe this is where you find yourself. Maybe you aren't so sure about him. Like I said at the beginning of our service, maybe you have more doubt than faith. Maybe you're so frazzled with all that we have going on in this season, maybe your heart really is aching because there actually is an empty chair. I know if you're part of this congregation, you know that there are empty. There are places in our pews where there were people that sat there last year that aren't sitting there now. Maybe because they had gone on to glory. Maybe because they had left, moved away, they're no longer a part of our community. Maybe you're dreading some of the demands upon your time and emotions that others are putting on you. Maybe you are just so busy and so excited inside of yourself, children, more likely you than the adults, about what is going to be under the tree tomorrow.

But what I'm suggesting to you is that this is the good news. The ordinary life is where God meets us. He comes to us so often in the mundane, at the place where there's no room, in the inn where the shepherds are just doing their stuff. Our normal lives. Sometimes it's not when we want Him Sometimes it's when we absolutely need him. Sometimes it's just when we're busy with other things. Sometimes it's when we're deeply alone. In some ways, this is just the whole good news of it all, that God comes to us. It's not just some other life. That's not really good news. If God only shows up to you when you're at camp with your friends, that's not really good news. Well, here in our final reading, he takes on flesh, and he dwells among us, makes his habitation in our neighborhood, pitched his tent around us, just moved in. Not far off, but close. Not some mountain high. But into the normal life that you live, God comes.

And part of the beauty of Bruegel's painting is how sort of inconspicuous Mary and Joseph were. Gordon did find them quickly. Maybe some of you did. Some of you are really smart. I get it. But in some ways, they're just there. They're just there. They look so normal, Jesus arriving into town. They're all just doing their thing. And I think that's part of the beauty of it. God is coming to us. That's the message of Christmas, that God actually takes on flesh, this real life flesh, and he does it for us in our normal, real lives. It's into your life that the angels are declaring. There's glad tidings and great joy.

Okay, so we've considered one of these great classic paintings of the Christmas season. Now to close, though, it's going to take me a little bit of time. So don't, like, think, like, sweet. It's all done to close. I want us to consider together a modern Christmas masterpiece. And that masterpiece is the movie Home Alone. That's right. Right, buddy? Yeah. Yeah. You know what I'm talking about. It's a favorite in our house.

So I saw this video last week, and I remember hearing about this a couple years back, and I want to tell you, or kind of read to you some of what I watched. But I hope you know the story. I mean, it really is a favorite in the Rowan household. And if you know the story, Kevin's family, and he's there at their home, they're on their way to Paris for Christmas because that's what people do. And he gets, you know, he does all this crazy stuff. He's watching movies and he's ordering pizza, and he's just vegging out, and he has to go, you know, buy a toothbrush, and he ends up at a church and all this kind of stuff. And then, of Course, the big thing that happens is the wet Bandits are coming. They're going to rob. And he puts together this elaborate booby trap scenario. And it's awesome. And I don't feel like I'm going to give any of weight because I would guess that 98% of you have watched it, and the other 2% should, if you haven't by now, you know, get on the bandwagon.

But here's what I want to suggest to you. Is that Old man Marley, you know, the neighbor, the old grouchy kind of neighbor, is actually. He's a Jesus figure. So the first time you see old man Marley, he is salting, throwing out salt. He's serving his neighbors and he's salting. He's salting the earth. He's out serving people. The second time he shows up, Kevin's kind of talking to himself. It's almost, though, Kevin is praying in a way. And there's Marley in the scene. Old man Marley's in the scene, and he says, I'm not afraid anymore. And then Kevin, of course, runs off because he's actually scared. So he sort of rejects this presence of somebody, right?

The third time, and this is when it gets really good. And I remember hearing this a few years back, the third time is when Kevin's in the convenience store. He has to buy the toothbrush. And in walks old man Marley, and a bell tolls. What happens when a bell tolls? An angel gets its wings. Y' all have watched other Christmas movies. Good job. But also, bells are places where, like the monasteries, calling you into the presence of God. Oftentimes, churches have bells, right? This is a religious symbol. Oftentimes. And so in walks old man Marley, and he puts his hand down on the convenience store. And actually, if you watch this, there's a little shot from below looking up through the glass of the convenience store counter, and you notice that his hand is bandaged. And it's bloody, right? It's bloody in the middle. And Kevin leaves, rejected again, Rejects Old man Marley there again.

So next time we see him, Kevin is in church, that beautiful church scene, and he sees old Man Marley. And this is kind of amazing, too, because the choir singing O Holy Night. And y' all know that song, hopefully we're singing that song tonight, right? I don't know where Jess is. I think we're singing that song. I feel like I should know what songs we're singing, but I don't. So they're singing that song, right? And one of the great parts of that song is fall on your knees, you know? And what does old man Marley do? He stands up at that point. But you say, he's not the worshiper. He's the one who's worshipped. He's not falling on his knees, which is the posture of worship. And then there's, you know, that scene the choir says, oh, here are the angel voices. And it's that time when Marley finally speaks. And what does he say? He says, merry Christmas.

And then they have that conversation. Remember, the conversation he talks about is his son, who's estranged, and how he longs to see him and be with him. But in that scene, again, actually, he shakes Kevin's hand. And we see the back of old man Marley's hand, and it's bandaged and it's bloody on the back. And what is clear is that old man Marley has been pierced through his hands. His palms are pierced through.

Now, if you fast forward to the end of the movie, which don't do when you're watching, because the next scene is the great scene with all the booby traps. Don't fast forward that. It's fantastic. But Kevin calls the cops and he runs into the neighbor's house. Old man's Marley's house. And he goes down to the basement. And in some ways you could say that's when Kevin is reborn. He actually runs through waters, like the waters of baptism. And he rises up and the bad guys catch him, right? Which is another symbol, actually, when you're following the way of the Lord, they're still after you. But who saves him, right? Who saves him? It's old man Marley. Old man Marley there saves Kevin.

Now, if you go to the end of the movie, actually, Kevin is looking through the window, right? Maybe this is a detail you should never miss watching that. There's beautiful music, and he looks out and he sees old man Marley hugging his son. Somehow, through this work, there's this reunion of this family that's been brought back together. If you remember the conversation they had in the church long earlier in the evening, it was that he wasn't united with his son, and that was his sorrow. But now you have this reconciliation of God with his children. This is the. I mean, it's the Christmas story.

Now, here's the thing. You're probably saying, Peter, you're talking about how God comes into the ordinary of our life through this text in Luke. There's not a lot of ordinary stuff in Home Alone. People don't often fly to Paris with, like, all their cousins and all that rarely are children Left Home Alone. Rarely are bandits breaking into big, large houses when a child is home alone. And we don't know of any news story where that many booby traps work that well. So you're like, this is not normal. Here's the thing. And I was reading about this because I thought this was also intriguing. The impetus for Home Alone was actually a deeply normal life. So the producer for Home Alone was John Hugh. And he had this sort of ongoing fear of leaving his kids. Of leaving his kids. And I've had that fear. He said, this is a story that needs to be told. And that idea of leaving their. Fear of leaving their children, that fear of it, that in some ways is right at the heart of what's happening at Christmas.

God says, I'm not going to leave you. I'm never going to forsake you. You cannot wander so far. You cannot just be so distracted, right by all the shining toys and the busyness. But I'm going to come into that because I need to be reunited with you. That is the glad tidings of great joy. That the fear of being estranged from God cannot be the final end of the story. That is not the end of the story because God comes for us. He comes into our life and I want you to see him. Grab ahold of him. I mean, please, if you don't know Jesus, please consider again afresh tonight the Christian story. God coming for you. God giving his life for you. God desiring you. This is the glad tidings of great joy that we announce this season.

Let me pray for us. Lord, we're thankful for this common story that we have heard time and time again. A full in a manger where Mary can lay the Christ child swaddled in clothes, shepherds doing their business. God, I pray that in our lives that you would come, maybe in just buying the toothbrush, that you would show up. Maybe in the place of deep fear where we are being chased, you would show up. We gotta pray that again. We would all give ourselves over to you. The God who moves into the neighborhood, takes on flesh and dwells among us. God, change our lives again by the wonder of this story. God for us, humbled for us, birthed into this world, for us, crucified, risen for us. Please do this, Lord, we ask in your name. Amen.

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