Come Let Us Adore Him

Luke 2:1-20

December 24, 2020 • Mount Pleasant UMC

It’s quiet now. First time it’s been quiet since…honestly, I don’t know how long. It’s been a whirlwind few days and it seems like there has been a constant stream of people around. Noise and chatter constantly. And crying, of course. Babies don’t come without crying. No matter that he’s the Son of God, the idea that somehow he is above crying is ridiculous. I sure hope future generations realize that. He’s just a baby.

But, of course, he’s more than that. Look at him sleep. Look how peaceful he looks right now, cradled in Mary’s arms. You’d never guess that just a few moments ago he was wailing at the top of his lungs, demanding to be fed, expecting to be taken care of. Honestly, I still can’t wrap my head around it. That baby cradled near Mary’s face—that’s…that’s God. The God I have worshipped all of my life. The God I have known as faithful and true. The God who has provided everything I have and need. That’s him, softly cooing, smacking his lips for another drop of mother’s milk. That’s God.

I was slow to come around on this whole plan. I really wish the angel had shown up and talked to both of us at the same time, you know? Maybe that would have been easier, maybe I would have understood the first time. But then again, who am I to question the way God chooses to do things? So there I was, doing my work, when I started hearing rumors. Mean rumors. Nasty rumors. The kind that people whisper about when they see you but when you notice them, they turn away or walk away. Finally, I asked one of my best friends what people were saying. He sort of shuffled his feet, looked away and said, “You really don’t know?” No, I didn’t know—and that’s when he told me. The rumor was that Mary was pregnant.

Mary, my betrothed. The woman I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with. The woman who, I hoped, would one day be the mother of my children. Mary was pregnant? No, it couldn’t be! There’s no way. Her love for God, her desire to live God’s way—those were some of the reasons I wanted to marry her. And, well, I knew the child wasn’t mine. That simply was not possible, you know what I mean? Now, I’m a builder, and I like clean, straight lines and measurements that make sense. I also like to hear information directly from the source. So I made the journey to Mary’s house. I wanted to hear directly from her what happened.

Or maybe I didn’t. I don’t know. I do know that when I got there, when I finally convinced her father to let me in, I saw the awful, horrible truth. The rumors were true. She was obviously pregnant, but when I looked at her face, she didn’t look guilty. She actually seemed to glow. I couldn’t get any words out, but she knew why I was there. She knew what I wanted to know. So she told me—about the angel, about how she had found favor with God, about how the baby was from the Holy Spirit, about how the baby was God himself made flesh, and how the baby was going to be the Messiah, the Savior for which our people had been waiting for so long. I heard her out. And then I left. I wish I had said something, but I just couldn’t. I felt more betrayed than at any other time in my life. Mary, this one I planned to marry, had betrayed me and hurt me and I couldn’t bear to look at her one more minute. So I left and I headed for home.

What was I supposed to do? You tell me, what would you do in my place? Your fiancé is pregnant by someone else and then makes up a wild, unbelievable story to cover up her actions! What would you do? Well, I had no answers. I paced and paced and paced when I got home. I think there’s a permanent groove in the floor from where I walked back and forth. By the end of the night, I had made up my mind. I could not marry Mary; I would not compromise my faith in that way. But I also did not want to carry out the full penalty that our culture allowed. You see, I could have her killed—I could order Mary and the baby stoned to death. But I didn’t want to do that. So I decided that the next day, I would go to the proper authorities and divorce her. The marriage would be off, Mary would be on her own, but at least she would be alive. And the baby would have a chance at life as well. Yes, that was the best thing to do. And the next day, I would take care of it all.

Maybe you’ve heard what happened next. I went to bed with my mind made up. I was, of course, exhausted and so I fell into a deep, deep sleep pretty quickly. And I began to dream. Well, something like that. I honestly still don’t know if it was a dream or if I was awake, or something in between. But God spoke to me through an angel. I mentioned I’m a builder, right? I like clear answers, evidence, proof. Well, Mary could not prove that what she said was true. I couldn’t prove that it wasn’t true. That’s where God stepped in. Now, don’t ask me how I knew it was an angel. You just…well, you just know. There was a holiness about him, a presence that somehow told me this angel had been in God’s literal presence. And now he was in my house. I felt like maybe I should have tidied up some! Anyway, he didn’t stay long. He basically told me, “Joseph, what Mary has told you is true. She’s not lying to you; she wouldn’t do that. God wants you to take the baby as your own. Oh, and by the way, when it’s time to name him, name him Jesus.” And just like that, he was gone.

When I woke up the next morning, I could still clearly remember the—whatever it was. The name “Jesus” was stuck in my head, and there was this deep down assurance that everything would be okay. Oh, listen, I knew all too well what it meant for me to go ahead with the wedding, to take Mary as my wife and to take the child as my own. It meant that Mary’s shame would become mine. It meant that some people would no longer do business with me. It meant I would lose some friends. It meant my reputation as a righteous and just man would be tarnished if not destroyed. There was no benefit in this for me at all. Every rational person would say to run far, far away. So what did I do? On the basis of a word from an angel in my dreams, I began to plan a wedding.

In a short time, we pretty much had everything set up, all the details nailed down, even plans for me to build a house for us to live in. And that’s when Rome stepped in. I don’t want to get too political, but Rome is never really far away. We see soldiers in town often, and there are constant reminders that we were not a free people. Rome does what Rome wants to do and we have very little say in it. So when Rome called for a census, we said, “When and where?” The “when” was right away. The “where” was in our hometowns, and since I was from Bethlehem, I had to make the trek from Nazareth, Mary’s hometown, down to Bethlehem. And I took her with me. Now, seriously, people are always saying, “Why in the world did you do that, Joe? What were you thinking?” And you’re right, she didn’t have to go. She, being a woman, would be counted through my family. She didn’t have to physically show up at the census booth. But here’s what most people don’t know: she wanted to go. She wanted to see my hometown, meet my family, sure, but more than that: she was a little bit afraid. You see, the rest of Nazareth had not gotten a visit from an angel, and there were still people saying rather mean things, inappropriate things, about Mary. She was afraid that, if she were left by herself, they might hurt her, follow the law that I hadn’t wanted to follow. So she came with me. Because she wanted to. And you don’t tell Mary, “No.” At least I don’t.

The trip to Bethlehem was long. It was hard. It was a long trip in the best of circumstances, but add in a pregnant lady who is about to give birth, lots of other people who are trying to travel in the same direction or even in the opposite direction, and people’s frustration about having to do something they didn’t want to do—well, let’s just say tensions were high. Especially when some people ended up behind us who wanted to go faster. We couldn’t move that fast. Anyway, many times I have come around that corner and caught a glimpse of Bethlehem on the horizon, but no time was I ever as glad to see this town as I was this day. I was even gladder to get to my family’s house—until I realized that all of the other relatives had gotten here first.

The house was packed. It was like the worst family reunion ever. We ended up here in the stable part of the house, which sounds bad but at least we were alone (well, except for the animals, of course) and it was quiet. Okay, quieter. No place in my family’s small house was quiet that week. Too many people, too much coffee, way too much loud conversation. As we settled in, I looked over at Mary and she was smiling. “It will be okay, Joseph,” she said. And it was.

Until the first contraction. “Oh, God never told me about this!” Mary said. She said some other things, too, but I choose to believe those were pain-induced. Regardless, at the end of the night, we had a bouncing baby boy. Dark eyes, dark hair, olive skin, a perfect little boy. Well, of course, what else would he be? Mary—sweet, brave, strong Mary—she just grinned from ear to ear. She’d been waiting nine months to hold this promise, and now that he was here, in true mother fashion, she seemed to know instantly what to do.

She even knew what to do when they came knocking. Not too long after Jesus had been fed and washed, we heard a commotion at the door. Who in the world would be coming in the middle of the night to a house that is already full of too many people? “Go see who it is,” Mary told me. “What if it’s a salesman?” I asked, and I got “that look” thrown my way, so I opened the door, and they were there. Shepherds. Dirty, smelly, untrustworthy shepherds. I started to close the door; they shouldn’t have been in town anyway. They should have been out with their sheep, right? What were they doing here? Were they going to try to steal some of our family’s animals? And just as I began to swing the door shut in their faces, I heard the one in the front ask, “Is he here? Is the baby born?” How did he know we had a newborn baby? I didn’t say it out loud, but I must have had it written all over my face, because without missing a beat, he said, “The angels told us. They said to look for a baby in a feeding trough. Is this the place?”

Angels. Again. I guess if the angels showed up to these shepherds, they couldn’t be too bad. So, I opened the door again and told them they needed to be quiet. They were. They moved, worshipfully, toward the manger. Some of them even bowed their heads. I think I might have even heard one of them quietly singing. Mary smiled, and I allowed myself to relax…just a little. The shepherds, they didn’t stay long. As they turned to leave, one of them looked Mary in the eyes and said, “He’s the Messiah, you know. He’s going to save us all.” Mary smiled that smile of hers, the one that goes all the way up to her eyes. “I know,” she whispered. And then they left. I closed the door. And all was quiet again.

So here I stand, in the quiet, unable to sleep. So many questions are running through my heart and mind. How in the world can I be any kind of father to the Son of God? What could I possibly teach him? Do you think he’ll like working with wood and stone and such to build things? Do you think he’ll want to play baseball? How big of an allowance do you give God’s Son? I know, I know—these questions are impossible to answer tonight. But those are the things that are keeping me awake tonight. I wander over to watch my bride and her baby sleeping. He’s so peaceful right now. I know it won’t always be that way. I don’t know what is coming for him, but if he is going to save the world, I would imagine it won’t be easy. The world doesn’t seem to want to be saved. He comes to bring us back to God but so many don’t seem to want to be brought back. Well, those are worries for another day. “Jesus,” I whisper. “Your name is Jesus. God saves. For that is what you will do—one day. But tonight, little one, sleep. Rest. Tomorrow we’ll introduce you to the family. I hope they’re ready for you!” And then, it seems—or maybe it was a trick of the light—but it seems he smiles. His eyes crack open just the slightest and he looks right at me, then he closes them again and snuggles once again into Mary’s chest. Once more, I whisper, “Jesus,” then I settle down myself on a bed of straw. Tonight…tonight was a good night. Tonight was a very good night indeed.

O come, all ye faithful…

For he alone is worthy…