Matthew 1:22-23 – Messiah Mission #3: Operation Sympathize
Today we will be finishing our Christmas sermon series that I have entitled The Messiah Mission. What was Jesus’ mission, as revealed in the birth stories about how He came to earth? What do the Christmas stories tell us about Jesus’ purposes for coming to earth?
Two weeks ago we saw that Messiah Mission #1 was Operation Salvation. He came to rescue us. Last week we saw that Messiah Mission #2 was Operation Sovereignty. He came to rule us. This week we will look at Messiah Mission #3, called Operation Sympathize. He came to relate with us.
I’d like to read to you from Matthew 1:22-23. These verses say this: All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “A virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him “Emmanuel”, which means, “God with us”.
That’s what Christmas is really all about, and the point that maybe gets missed the most: that God came near, that the almighty Creator became small and weak, that the King of Glory wrapped Himself in rags and flesh. God was no longer some distant cosmic being, but a little human baby.
Now, I suppose there were other ways for God to speak to us. He had been doing that for years. Through prophets and visions, through miracles, signs, and wonders. Through voices and writing. Through many ways and various times. But actually to become a person… well, that seems a bit over the top. One Christmas song pictures a group of angels discussing God’s method, and called it a strange way to save the world.
But if you think of it, isn’t it perfect? I mean, what is one very common way that we complain? Don’t we often say, “Oh, if you only knew what I was going though…” Or, “If you only knew what it felt like…” Or, “If you could understand my point of view…” You know… if only God knew what I was going through! Christmas reveals to us, He does.
“Emmanuel” means “God is with us”. God came near. God became fully human while at the same time remaining fully divine. It is not some distant God that we serve, some far-off being that doesn’t understand us, but He knows exactly what we go through.
Are you tired? God understands. John 4:6 says that Jesus was tired from His journey. Have you ever been hungry? God understands. Matthew 4:2 says that Jesus hungered. Have you ever thirsted? God understands. John 19:28 says that Jesus was thirsty. Have you ever been sad? God understands. Matthew 26:38 says that Jesus was sad, even to the point that His soul was overwhelmed with it. Have you ever cried? God understands. John 11:35 says that Jesus wept. Have you ever been tempted to do what is wrong? God understands.
Let me read to you Hebrews 4:15: “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet was without sin.” The KJV says, “We do not have a high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities.”
That verse says that our High priest, the one who makes things right for us between us and God, is able to sympathize with us. He is able to understand what we go through, and to feel compassion for us when it happens. From birth to death, God understands what we go through.
I have 2 stories for you, one true and one a parable. Both these stories show us what Messiah Mission #3: Operation Sympathize means.
It was 1741, and an old man was wandering the streets of London. His name was George Frederick Handel. At this point, he was angry at life. His mind kept going back to the time when he was famous and had the applause of royalty and the elite of London. But now his mind was full of despair and hopelessness about the future, for the applause was gone. Others were now in the spotlight and envy began to possess him. Added to that, a cerebral hemorrhage paralyzed his right side. He could no longer write, and doctors gave little hope for recovery. The old composer traveled to France and began to soak in the baths which were said to have healing effects. The hot mineral baths seemed to help, and his health began to improve. Eventually, he was able to write once more, and his success returned.
But then he faced another reversal. Queen Caroline, who had been his staunch supporter, died. England found itself on hard economic times, and heating large auditoriums for concerts was not permitted. His performances were canceled, and he began to wonder where God was.
Then one night, as he returned from his walk, Charles Jennens was waiting at his home. Jennens explained that he had just finished writing a text for a musical that covered both the Old and New Testaments, and believed that Handel was the man to set it to music. Handel was indifferent as he began to read the words which Jennens had put together. But then his eyes fell on such words as ‘He was despised, rejected of men. . . he looked for someone to have pity on him, but there was no man; neither found he any to comfort him.’ His eyes raced ahead to the words: ‘He trusted in God. . . God did not leave his soul in hell. . . He will give you rest.’ And finally his eyes stopped on the words: ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth.’ He became aware of the presence of God. He was aware in a new and profound way, and as he picked up his pen the Spirit of God was moving, and music seemed to flow through him. He finished the first part in only seven days. The second section was completed in six days.
Many will remember that when the classical work was first performed in London, and the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ was sung by the choir, King George II was so moved that he stood to his feet. To this day, people still rise to their feet as the great chorus is sung in praise to God.
In reflecting on Handel’s Messiah, Joseph E. McCabe wrote: “Never again are we to look at the stars, as we did when we were children, and wonder how far it is to God. A being outside our world would be a spectator, looking on but taking no part in this life, where we try to be brave despite all the bafflement. A God who created, and withdrew, could be mighty, but he could not be love. Who could love a God remote, when suffering is our lot? Our God is closer than our problems, for they are out there to be faced; He is here, beside us, Emmanuel.”
The 2nd story was originally written by Paul Harvey, the American radio broadcaster and commentator, who passed away last year. This story is called “The Christmas Storm: A Modern Parable”.
A man stayed home as his family went off to church one Christmas Eve. He just could not swallow the Jesus story about God coming to earth as man. Shortly after the family drove away in the car, snow began to fall. He went to the window to watch the flurries getting heavier and heavier, then went back to his fireside chair and began to read his newspaper.
Minutes later he was startled by a thudding sound. Then another and another. At first he thought someone must be throwing snowballs against his living room window. Well, when he went to the front door, he found a flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow. They had been caught in the storm and in a desperate search for shelter they had tried to fly through his large landscape window.
Well, he couldn’t let the poor creatures lie there and freeze. He remembered the barn where his children stabled their pony. That would provide a warm shelter -- if he could direct the birds to it. He quickly put on his coat and galoshes, trampled through the deepening snow to the barn, opened the door wide, and turned on a light. But the birds did not come in. He figured food would entice them in and he hurried back to the house, fetched bread crumbs, sprinkled them on the snow making a trail to the yellow lighted wide open doorway of the stable, but to his dismay the birds ignored the bread crumbs and continued to flap around helplessly in the snow. He tried catching them, he tried shooing them into the barn by walking around them waving his arms -- instead they scattered in every direction except into the warm lighted barn.
Then he realized they were afraid of him. To them, he reasoned, I am a strange and terrifying creature, if only I could think of some way to let them know they can trust me. That I’m not trying to hurt them, but to help them. How? Any move he made tended to frighten them, confuse them. They just would not follow. They would not be led or shooed because they feared him. If I could only be a bird myself, he thought. If only I could be a bird and mingle with them and speak their language and tell them not to be afraid and show them the way to the safe, warm barn. But I’d have to be one of them, so they could see and hear and understand.
At that moment the church bells began to ring. The sound reached his ears above the sound of the wind. He stood there listening to the bells. Listening to the bells pealing the glad tidings of Christmas. And he sank to his knees in the snow.
