Shepherds Guarding, Angels Singing

The first to receive the message that the anointed one had been born were shepherds abiding in the fields near Bethlehem. These were the same fields from which another shepherd had been called by God. Remember the story of Samuel anointing David?

Samuel was sent by God to Bethlehem to anoint one of the sons of Jesse as the chosen one to be King of Israel. He and Jesse and Jesse’s sons are sanctified and go to make a sacrifice together. And one by one, the seven sons pass by and Samuel turns to Jesse and says, “The Lord has not chosen any of these. Are all your sons here?” To which he replies, “There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep.” And Samuel says to Jesse, “Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here.” And, as you know, he comes and the Lord says, “Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.” And David is anointed to be king. David wasn’t even thought of when Jesse brings all of his sons. Yet, God chose him.

One day this week as we were here in the Chancel, Sandy asked me if a shepherd was missing from the nativity scene. Michael had asked her about the shepherds. He thought there had been three shepherds. And I made a joke about how no one noticed the shepherds, living in the fields with their animals – sleeping on the ground, huddled near the animals for warmth, never taking a bath – it was not a career anyone aspired to; it was the job assigned to the youngest son of the family. He wouldn’t inherit anything, so his value to the family was to care for the animals.

It was after that conversation, as I read the account of the birth of Christ in Luke again, that I realized something. The shepherds didn’t count – literally. A decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. All went to their own towns to be registered. Everyone went to be registered because that is how they collected taxes. But the shepherds were abiding in the fields. They were so unimportant that the Roman Empire didn’t care about taxing them. They truly didn’t count. They were nobodies.

Yet, God chose them. These nobodies went from being so unimportant that they didn’t count in the tax census to being the bearers of the message of the angels. The angels gave them a sign – the manger. You will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger. And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger.

“When they saw this,” says Luke, “they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.” When they had been to the manger, they had a message.

They weren’t anybody special; they didn’t have any special education or ordination; they didn’t have training in faith sharing; they weren’t on an evangelism committee. When they had been to the manger, they had a message. It was a message they were excited about. And so they told everyone they met, and they were amazed.

I have been looking at new curricula over the last few weeks preparing for the new year, and the PC(USA) has released a new
curriculum on Evangelism called “Engage.” It looks good. But, the first sentence in the introduction was disturbing to me. The very first sentence about this curriculum designed to help Presbyterian churches share the message of Christ reads, “Engage, a new evangelism approach helps churches become relevant again.” Our message has always been and will always be relevant. Perhaps we have spent too much time and energy off message. Perhaps we have not been to the manger and experienced the transformation the shepherds experienced. But when we have been to the manger, we have a message, and it is relevant.

Evangelism is not about a strategic series of conversations you have with someone. It is about sharing what brings joy to your life. What changes you from a nobody to a bearer of angel news.

You may never know the impact you have on people you don’t even know, just by living the Gospel.

Michael Smith did not expect the impact his message would make. Michael works as a project manager in telecommunications in New York City.

“It started innocently,” he says. “Many years ago, I worked in an office with large windows that looked out over a busy overpass. I stood by one of those windows one day, when a woman in a passing car looked up and made eye contact with me – naturally, I waved.”

“It was the beginning of a year of window antics. When things were slow, I stood in the window and waved at the passengers who looked up. Their strange looks made me laugh, and the stress of work was washed away.”

“Late afternoon was the best time. Rush-hour traffic filled the overpass with cars and transit buses, and provided a wealth of waving opportunities for my end-of-day routine. It didn’t take long to attract a following – a group of commuters who passed by the window every day and looked up at the strange waving man. There was a man with a construction truck who would turn on his flashing yellow lights and return my wave. There was the carpool crowd and the business lady with her children fresh from day care.

My favorite was the transit bus from the docks that passed my window at 4:40 pm. It carried the same group every day. They were my biggest fans. Waving grew boring, so I devised ways to enhance my act. I made signs: “Hi!” “Hello!” “Be Happy!” I posted them in the window and waved. I stood on the window ledge in various poses; created hats from paper and file-folders, made faces, played peek-a-boo by bouncing up from below the window ledge, stuck out my tongue, tossed paper planes in the air, and once went into the walkway over the street and danced while co-workers pointed to let my fans know I was there.
Christmas approached…While working a night shift, a red lab jacket attracted my attention. I picked it up and turned it in my hands. In a back corner, where packing material was kept, I used my imagination and cut thin, white sheets of cloth-like foam into strips and taped them around the cuffs and collar, down the front and around the hem of the lab jacket. A box of foam packing and strips of tape became Santa’s beard. I folded a red file folder into a hat and taped the beard to it. The whole thing slipped over my head in one piece….That evening, and every evening of that Christmas season, I stood proudly in the window and waved to my fans. The bus crowd waved wildly, and the little children smiled at the strange Santa. My heart filled with joy.

I didn’t know it then, but a bond was forming between my fans and me. The next spring, I discovered just how close we had become.

My wife and I were expecting our first child. I wanted the world to know. Less than a month before the birth, I posted a sign in the window, “25 DAYS UNTIL ‘B’ DAY.” My fans passed and shrugged their shoulders. The next day the sign read “24 DAYS UNTIL ‘B’ DAY.” Each day the number dropped, and the passing people grew more confused.

One day a sign appeared in the bus, “What is ‘B’ DAY?” I just waved and smiled.

Ten days before the expected date, the sign in the window read, “10 DAYS UNTIL BA– DAY” Still the people wondered. The next day it read, “9 DAYS UNTIL BAB- DAY,” then “8 DAYS UNTIL BABY DAY.” Michael says, “My fans finally knew what was happening.”

By then his following had grown to 20 to 30 buses and cars. Every night they watched. Had the baby come? The number decreased and the excitement grew. Then they hit 0; no announcement. Michael says, “The next day the sign read, ‘BABY DAY 1 DAY LATE’ I pretended to pull out my hair.

Each day the number changed and the interest from passing traffic grew.
14 days the overdue signs appeared in the window. And then, she was born. Michael recalls, “I left the hospital at 5:30 AM, screamed my joy into the morning air, and drove home to sleep. I got up at noon, bought cigars, and appeared at my window in time for my fans. My co-workers were ready with a banner posted in the window: “IT’S A GIRL!” I didn’t stand alone that evening. My co-workers joined me in celebration. We stood and waved our cigars in the air, as every vehicle that passed acknowledged the birth of my daughter. Finally, the bus from the docks made its turn onto the overpass and began to climb the hill. When it drew close, I climbed onto the window ledge and clasped my hands over my head in a victory pose. The bus was directly in front of me when it stopped in heavy traffic, and every person on board stood with their hands in the air.

I was choked with emotion as I watched them celebrate my new daughter. Then it happened – a sign popped up. It filled the windows and stretched half the length of the bus. “CONGRATULATIONS!” it read.

Tears formed in the corners of my eyes as the bus slowly resumed its journey. I stood in silence as it pulled away from view…My daughter had been born fourteen days late. Those people must have carried that sign for weeks. Each day they must have unrolled it and then rolled it back up. The thought of them going through so much just to celebrate my new baby made me cry.

I made a fool of myself in that window for eight months. I made those people smile after a long day at work. They must have enjoyed it, because on the happiest day of my life they showed their appreciation.

That day, more than twenty years ago, changed me. I just wanted to make my day better. I did not realize how it affected others.

He was a common guy, working in an office above the streets of New York City. And he impacted people, and they responded.

Do you have a message? Do you realize how it will affect others? In the coming days, people will ask “How was your Christmas?” what will you say? I invite you to consider your response. When were you at the manger? When did you experience Christ in your midst? Will you talk about a moment in worship? Seeing someone at Christmas Eve service? Receiving communion? Passing the light of Christ? Will you share a loving exchange between family members? What will you say?

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.

When we have been to the manger, we have a message, and our message is amazing to those who hear it.