Why I’m excited about Christmas & the birth of Jesus generally.

One of the great Christmas traditions these days is being told off for missing the point of Christmas. From now until Boxing Day, vicars, archbishops, politicians and monarchs will encourage us to think about the true meaning of Christmas.

No-one ever got fired for sending a boring Christmas card.

It’s not about shopping, eating or flashing lights. We know that. We suspect it’s something to do with Peace. ‘Peace on earth’ seems to be the safely inoffensive, non-denominational universally-agreed message of Christmas. So we send each other slightly bland but peaceful Christmas cards with a dove or a candle or a snowy scene.

But we know to there’s has to be more to it than that. There have been 2000 or so Christmasses and nothing seems to have changed. The world is still ravaged by war and carved up by despots. Even at the family level, we know that peace is a long way off. Christmas wedges families together in overheated rooms, with heavy food and plentiful alcohol. And then we remember why we don’t live closer together. The only consolation for most people is that their Christmas isn’t going as badly as Christmas on Eastenders. (It’s very decent of the BBC every year to give us some kind of context.)

So what is this peace that we crave? You could be forgiven for missing the point.  That’s one of the things most peculiar about the first Christmas. God sent his son to earth to be born as a baby – but no-one really paid the blindest bit of notice. The civic powers were busy doing a head-count. There were some mysterious visitors from the East who turned up, gave strange gifts of gold, incense and myrrh and then left – and are never again mentioned in the Bible. The only other visitors were shepherds – but in this, we find a clue to this ‘peace’ that we celebrate at Christmas.

You’ll probably be quite familiar with these words from The Gospel of Luke, Chapter 2:

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favour rests.”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.

This passage is so clichéd that it’s easy to miss a couple of big surprises in. The first is that the angels proclaim the birth of The Saviour to a field of sheep and a few shepherds. The obvious place to make this announcement would be the Temple in Jerusalem. Or Herod’s palace. Even the town square Bethlehem would have got more traction. It would be like Prince William and Kate Middleton announcing their engagement in the back room of a Lincolnshire pub with no internet access. Maybe the landlord hears. A few locals and possibly a travelling darts team. In the same sort of way, the angels announce the long-awaited saviour of the world to a startled flock of sheep and a handful of big, burly men.

But it seems that God isn’t doing things our way – because the other thing he has done is sent a baby. Not a Superman. Or a Che Guavara. Or even a Spartacus. But a baby of pink flesh, unable to feed himself, or fend for himself. Let alone fend for others or save a nation. Or bring peace. It’s some irony, announcing Peace with a newborn baby.

And when the baby grows up, the man, Jesus, doesn’t become a soldier, or a rebel leader. How is this humble man without even armour to defend himself ever going to save Israel – let alone bring peace to us two thousand years later?

And yet, we know there’s something in this. Our culture has stories of superheroes. But we also have other stories. Better stories. Mythologies littered with the humble and the weak overcoming the mighty evil. It’s why we love the story of four children going into Narnia and defeating the White Witch; four Hobbits leaving the shire and defeat Dark Lord Sauron. It’s why the Tortoise defeats the Hare.

But that story contains one other hidden surprise. It’s a clue about that peace that we all long for. If you look, the angels actually say “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom His favour rests.”

The peace we celebrate at Christmas is to those on whom God’s favour rests. It’s not something we can achieve by ourselves, as individuals, or communities or nations. It’s not something we can do with will-power, legislation or deep pockets. So how?

There’s another clue hidden away you could be forgiven for missing (I’m not trying to be Dan Brown, honestly). The angels call Bethlehem ‘the City of David’. This is the David who saved Israel by defeating gigantic Goliath, without even armour to defend himself.  He had just a sling and some stones. This David was the humble young shepherd who “went back and forth from Saul to tend his father’s sheep at Bethlehem,” according to the Old Testament book of 1 Samuel (17:15) And here we are hundreds of years later, with the angels announcing a new David to shepherd in the fields near Bethlehem.

But this would be a bigger, better David who can bring permanent and everlasting peace between nations, heal divisions in families and help us deal with our own failings and guilt. This new David, Jesus, does it, not with armour, weapons, or slings. Not even words. But with a cross. It’s curious, isn’t it? Almost comical, in fact. Jesus Christ, God’s Son and the true King is born in a manger among the animals. And he dies on a cross, among the criminals, a death hinted at in the Christmas story. The gift that’s impossible to spell, myrrh, is a type of embalming fluid.

But God isn’t doing things our way. And this is a good thing. Our way leads to discord, division, disappointment and despair. Peace on earth is never going to happen if it is left to us – which is why it needs to come from God. It’s why we need his favour.

That favour can be found in this intriguing man-god, Jesus. He rejects violence and war and yet we dealt out death to him. He speaks only truth, and we told lies about him. He lives the perfect life, and yet we pinned crimes on him and had him brutally killed.

What are we like?

We are not the people we want to be. He is the person we want to be. We are not naturally at peace with each other. Or ourselves. And certainly not with Jesus. But we need this peace that Jesus brings.

And that’s why I’m excited about Christmas, and the birth of Jesus generally. He is the only hope for our world.