Luke 2:1-21

Below is a sermon manuscript from December 21, 2025. Watch the sermon here.

Introduction

Every year at Christmas, we’re surrounded by scenes of beauty and spectacle—lights, music, pageantry. And none of that is wrong. But when you actually read Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus, something surprising happens. The most important event in human history unfolds almost unnoticed. No palace. No crowd. No ceremony.

And it raises a question we don’t always ask: If God has come, why does it look like no one is paying attention? This morning, Luke invites us to sit with that tension—and then to see how God himself resolves it.

The Birth Was Unspectacular

Do you ever think about this scene? We have the Mother of the messiah. Jesus’ connection to being the promised messiah has been prevalent throughout the book of Luke so far; this is not “Luke I am your father” type reveal by Luke’s reporting here. He mentions the city of Bethlehem by directly relating it to the town of David. This should bring to mind Micah 5:2, which tells of the messiah coming from Bethlehem. Matthew’s gospel directly quotes this verse when speaking of the wise men. But in order to fulfill this prophecy, ordinary circumstances took place. And hard ordinary circumstances. A census that caused Joseph and Mary to relocate. A 70-90 mile journey in the hill country while pregnant. 

To give a background on this journey, Foremen is helpful

Jews typically took one of two routes when going from Galilee to the central Hill Country (i.e., to Jerusalem or further south). From Nazareth, the first option was to travel eastward through the Jezreel Valley to the Jordan Rift, south along the Jordan River to Jericho, then up the steep southern ridge of the Wadi Qilt (called the “Ascent of Adummim”; e.g., Josh 15:7) into the Hill Country. The distance from Nazareth to Bethlehem along this route is roughly ninety miles. This is the route that Jesus took on his final journey to Jerusalem, just over a week before he was crucified. The second option was to walk directly south along the “spine” of the Central Hill Country. Wayfarers traveling along this route (known as the “Road of the Patriarchs” because it was frequently used by them) would pass through the important Old Testament cities of Shechem, Bethel, Mizpah, Ramah, Gibeah, Jerusalem, and Bethlehem. Although this route is more direct (about seventy miles in total), it cut through the heart of Samaritan territory. Jews did not have good relations with Samaritans (see John 4:9), but it was not unusual for them to use this road. Josephus, for example, says, “it was the custom of the Galilaeans at the time of a festival to pass through the Samaritan territory on their way to the Holy City” (Ant. 20.118). It was along the route that Jesus, as he was moving from Judea to Galilee, boldly professed to the Samaritan woman at the well that he was the Messiah (John 4:1–42). Luke, however, does not give us any indication of which route Mary and Joseph took to register for the census.^[1]

Arnold says, 

In the Old Testament one always went “up” to Judea and to Jerusalem. This is not just because of their elevation (Bethlehem is in “the hill country of Judea”; cf. 1:39), but especially because Jerusalem was the city of God.^[2]

Then we have them come to Bethlehem only to find no room for them at the inn. The word inn there is interesting. Luke uses that same Greek word elsewhere to refer to a guest room and uses another room for an inn, in the story of the good Samaritan. Many scholars think that “guest room” is the more appropriate rendering. Many homes had a main room and a guest room, as hospitality was highly prized. Because many were coming to Bethlehem for the census, likely, the guest room was already taken, so they stayed in the other section of the home where the animals were usually kept. Sometimes this was also in a nearby cave or in a home built adjacent to a cave. Early church tradition claimed that Jesus was born in a cave. In any case, what is clear about the birth of Jesus is that it is unspectacular.

While the earthly ruler was exercising control over his subjects, the true King was lowly and in a manger

Do you notice God’s perfect plan in all of this? As the decree goes out, it is an exercise of power. The census was used to determine taxes. To make sure that everyone was accounted for. To flex one’s authority and right over the people. But this served a greater purpose for the one who lay in a manger.

Quesnel remarks,

“Augustus imagines that he is busied in advancing the glory of his name, and the lustre of his reign. And yet his orders, by means of others more powerful and absolute than his, become subservient to the accomplishment of prophecies, of which he is altogether ignorant,—to the birth of a king whom he will never know,—and to the establishment of a monarchy, which will subject his and all others to itself. This is what happens in all ages, and men take no notice of it.”^[3]

There is a real danger of failing to see beyond the circumstances of the moment. We can become so overwhelmed that we begin to ask, Is there any hope in this? Especially when everything feels out of our hands. Powerlessness can easily slide into hopelessness.

But Jesus’ birth offers hope amid the tyranny of the moment. When it seems like everyone is subject to the counting and control of earthly rulers, God is fulfilling prophecy. God is orchestrating His perfect plan; not despite ordinary circumstances, but through them.

The one who is in the manger is in control; this is God in the flesh. But the one in a manger is still in need. We repeatedly see references to swaddling cloths in this passage. The baby needed the attention of his parents. He needed the tender care of Mary. The one Mary was dependent upon was dependent upon Mary. The beauty of the incarnation is on full display. A display worthy of every pomp and circumstance, but we don’t see it here.

It is the ordinary and unspectacular that make us think “something is wrong with this picture!”

Something is wrong with this picture!

While we know from Philippians 2 that Jesus’ coming was marked by humility, we should still feel that something is off here. After all, throughout this narrative, there has been a repeated refrain: David, David, David.

And when you hear “David,” you expect a palace, not a stable. Maybe when this point first came up, on the screen or in my words, you pushed back. “No, wait. This is spectacular. This is the greatest thing that has ever happened. “And you’d be right. But that’s exactly what makes the scene so scandalous. What is happening is glorious beyond measure, yet the circumstances don’t seem to fit the reality.

Have you ever gone to a performance and thought, “Wait, this needs a bigger audience. This is spectacular!” I had a friend who performed in a production, and they would always request multiple days so that people could come see that it was worth attending and then tell their friends.

But here is a one-time event, and it is worthy. It’s not right that no one is there.  We might expect something like Revelation 5. There, we see Jesus surrounded by a multitude of heavenly beings, worshiped in visible splendor. But that’s not what we get here.

And our instincts are right to notice it. The tension is intentional. Luke wants it to raise our eyebrows. The glory is hidden. This has a purpose. But sitting on this side and knowing what we know, we want to shout – but he deserves all glory!

The nativity scene pictures our spiritual neglect

Here is how this scene, taking place in history, also serves as a mirror for our own hearts. When we read or hear again about the birth of Jesus, we may think, “He deserves every person to come and worship him.” We might even say, “At the very least, all the Jews who had been waiting for the Messiah.”

And yet here he is born in the midst of ordinary life, while people go about their business, largely unaware of the most wonderful thing in the world. And if we’re honest, this is often true of us as well.

We fail to give God the glory he is due. We get caught up in the day-to-day and miss the wonder of his presence.

But here is the hope: the same Savior who was laid in a manger delights to come into our mess and make us new. As Romans tells us, while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Even when we wander, even when we neglect him, the Savior who came for us is still here for us.

If the nativity scene exposes our neglect. If the King comes quietly and is largely overlooked, then what we see next shows us something about the heart of God. When people do not come looking for Jesus, God goes looking for them. What follows is God’s inviting, initiating love on full display in the announcement of the good news to the shepherds.

The Shepherds Were Invited

The invitation came through angels, God’s messengers

God does not allow this unspectacular birth to go unattended. The message is announced in a spectacular way through God’s messengers, the angels.

We have already seen throughout Luke’s Gospel that angels are sent to bring good news. That is, after all, what the gospel is: good news announced by God. And once again, the good news comes through an angel. But this time, the angel is not alone. Suddenly, there is with him a heavenly host, a multitude of angels.

Here, at last, is a scene worthy of the Savior. Heaven breaks open in praise. But notice where it happens: not in a palace, not in Jerusalem, but out in a field at night.

This display is not meant to draw attention to the angels themselves, but to announce the good news and gather an audience for Jesus. And yet, as we have seen time and time again, the angel says, “Fear not.” This message is not meant to terrify, but to announce good news, news of great joy.

And the audience God chooses to gather is unexpected.

The invitation came to the unexpected

God chose to invite the shepherds. There has been a lot of discussion about shepherds, with some claiming they were despised in the culture. That assessment often depends on sources later than the New Testament period. What is clear in the text is that they are out in the fields. They are not royalty. They are ordinary men, going about ordinary work.

And that tells us something important. Jesus’ status and wonder are not dependent on the importance of those around him. His glory is secure in who he is. Too often, we inflate ourselves by proximity to power or status. But here, the one who has all authority and honor draws near to the shepherds. This is a beautiful picture of the one who came not to be served, but to serve.

We could also say that the invitation came to the unexpected. The angels did not appear during a moment of heightened spiritual activity, but in the middle of everyday life. God met the shepherds not when they were searching for him, but when he revealed his good news to them. This is how God loves to work.

And that matters for us. Some of you may be here this morning, or watching online, simply because it feels like the right thing to do this time of year. Another box checked. But the shepherds weren’t looking for a sign when God interrupted their night. And the same God who grabbed their attention is able to meet you here, right where you are, with good news that is meant for you.

The invitation was personal

The invitation of Jesus is deeply personal for the shepherds. They are not merely told, “A Savior has been born.” That would be spectacular in itself. They are told, “A Savior has been born to you.”

This good news is for the shepherds to hear, to receive, and to respond to. They are invited not only to believe, but to come and see. And their response to the good news is exactly that. They go to Jesus, the one who is their Savior.

We even see language that echoes Mary earlier in Luke’s Gospel. Just as Mary went “in haste”, now the shepherds go “in haste” to Jesus. Faith does not remain distant or theoretical. It moves toward Christ. 

And while this news is personal, it is not private. It is not only for the shepherds; it is for each of us.

Darrell Bock says,

The announcement of “good news of great joy that will be for all the people” (v. 10) indicates that God desires to speak to every person about the coming of Jesus, since all humanity is impacted by his coming.^[4]

The shepherds show us the proper response when the good news of Jesus the Savior comes to us. We hear it, and we receive it by faith. And in receiving it, we are brought near to Jesus himself.

This was true for them. And it is true for every person who hears and receives the good news today. Scripture tells us that we are united to Christ by faith. And here, in the shepherds, we see a living picture of what that faith looks like.

We might be shocked by this scene and think, “What would that have been like if I were there?” But what if I told you that heaven still opens and comes to us in the midst of ordinary life? That it is, in a sense, even more glorious now—not because angels appear, but because God himself comes near through his Word and Spirit.

This is what happens when the good news of the gospel is heard and received. The words go out through a sermon, a conversation, a video, the written Word. But they are accompanied by the Holy Spirit, who presses those words into the human heart.

This is why some hear the gospel, and it falls away, while others hear it and say, “That is God’s Word to me.” In that moment, the words are no longer distant facts; they become words of life. And in that moment, all of heaven rejoices at what God is doing.

Has this been true of you? If not, receive the truth this morning. Jesus did not only come into the world—he came for you. He came to forgive your sin, to give you new life, and to bring you near to God. Turn to him in faith. Come to him as the shepherds did. And know that the Savior who was born to them is the Savior who is offered to you. The Savior who came quietly into the world now comes clearly through his gospel. Do not neglect him, do not be distracted by lesser things. Come to him in faith and you will find great joy and eternal peace in a life lived for the King of Kings.

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^[1] Benjamin A. Foreman, “Luke’s Birth Narrative,” in Lexham Geographic Commentary on the Gospels, ed. Barry J. Beitzel and Kristopher A. Lyle, Lexham Geographic Commentary (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016), 12–13.

^[2] Clinton E. Arnold, Zondervan Illustrated Bible Backgrounds Commentary: Matthew, Mark, Luke, vol. 1 (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2002), 340.

^[3] J. C. Ryle, Expository Thoughts on Luke, vol. 1 (New York: Robert Carter & Brothers, 1879), 54.

^[4] Darrell L. Bock, Luke, The NIV Application Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing House, 1996), 84.