8 In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 Then the angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for, see – I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,
14 “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”
15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17 When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
One aspect of this story that intrigues me is that the shepherds actually went into town to find the stable where Jesus was born. We don’t know just how many shepherds there were. Presumably at least one of them stayed behind to insure the safety of the flock. But most of them, let’s say, left the fields to “go…to Bethlehem [to] see this thing that [had] taken place, which the Lord made known to [them].” But why? What was so compelling about the angel’s announcement that they would leave their work behind to check out the news they had heard?
We might say it was because they heard it from an angel. I mean, after all, how frequently do you get a special missive from “a multitude of the heavenly host”? Or, we might chalk it up to the very nature of keeping sheep. Sure, every once in a while there may be a lion or a bear show up and you have to defend the flock, but that would be every great once in a while. Usually, things weren’t all that exciting. But when an angel tells you about an event of major significance that has taken place in such close proximity, then there’s at least something to do. So, what do you do? You “go…and see.”
And then, of course, it’s a baby, for crying out loud. Who doesn’t like seeing a baby? Nevertheless, it’s unlikely that these shepherds would have turned aside to see every baby that was born nearby. But in this case they went. They left everything and went. Why?
Let’s see if we can find out why. When the angel told the shepherds about Jesus’ birth, they used a very special word. Its specialness is not easily recognized in the English rendering of the account, but you can spot it right off in the Greek. The word is “evangelize.” In verse 10 we read that the angel says, “I am bringing you good news.” That’s six words in English, but in the original it’s only one word. And it means, literally, “I evangelize you.”
Now, when you and I hear the word “evangelize,” we associate it with something religious. We may think of an evangelist addressing a large crowd gathered, perhaps, in a sports arena. Or, we may think of one person sharing his faith with another person over coffee. Or something like that. But in ancient times – in the times in which these shepherds lived – the word “evangelize” had a much wider meaning. It was used to announce the victory of a celebrated general or to honor the achievements of a king or an emperor.
For example, the following inscription was found on the ruins of an old government building in Asia Minor. It was dated in the year 6 B.C.:
We should consider the [birth of the] most divine Caesar [as] the beginning of all things [good]…for when everything was falling into disorder and tending toward dissolution, he restored it…and gave the whole world a new [quality]. Caesar [is] the common good Fortune of all…, the beginning of life and vitality…. All…cities unanimously adopt the birthday of the divine Caesar as the new beginning of the year…. The providence that has regulated our whole existence…has brought our life to the climax of perfection in giving to us the emperor Augustus…who, being sent to us and our descendants as Savior, has put an end to war and has set all things in order. And whereas, having become god manifest, Caesar has fulfilled the hopes of earlier times…. The birthday of the god Augustus has been for the whole world the beginning of good news” – that is, the evangel – “concerning him.”
Does anything in that inscription sound familiar? Sure. The birth of a great “savior” was acclaimed as an act of providence, a gift of God. This so-called “savior” was not Jesus, to be sure. It was Augustus, and he was regarded as “god manifest.” His entrance into this world was even announced as “good news.” This inscription, which was probably read in a public ceremony, was nothing short of an evangel. This was evangelism, first century style. These were “good tidings of great joy” – or, at least, the people were asked to believe that it was.
I am going to venture a guess. I am going to guess that, if the shepherds “keeping watch over their flock by night” – if they had heard that Augustus was in the area, they probably wouldn’t have left their sheep to go see him. Although it was politically advantageous to acclaim him as a savior, his quote-unquote “salvation” didn’t affect them much. “Savior” he might be in some people’s minds, and there could be no doubt that he was “lord.” After all, he lorded it over everybody. But not to anyone’s benefit but his own.
So, I am thinking the shepherds would not have gone to see Augustus, but they did go to see Jesus. Why? Here’s what I think. In Jesus, you have a true Savior. You don’t have to put air quotes around the salvation Jesus brings. His salvation is different. He laid down his life for the sheep. Augustus would never have done that. He would have fleeced the sheep, if you know what I mean, and he did. Hence, the necessity of Joseph taking the expectant Mary on the arduous journey to Bethlehem – to be enrolled for Augustus’ latest tax measure. Augustus would have taken the lives of the sheep if necessary in his own mind to secure his status, but he would never have sacrificed his own life for their sake.
Now, I realize that the shepherds knew nothing of the cross that awaited the Christ child some thirty-three years in the future. They couldn’t have given you the details of the salvation he would bring. But they knew that he was a Savior. That’s what the angel had said, right? “To you is born this day…a Savior.” And they knew that this child was Lord. That, too, the angel told them. And he was the Christ. That was part of this evangel as well. Savior, Lord, and Christ.
No one had ever called Augustus the Christ. Why not? Because the term Christ belongs to one who is anointed by the Spirit, one chosen and sent by God. The word itself comes from the same root as the word chrism, which is the oil that is used when someone is anointed.
In ancient Israel, there were three types of persons who received the anointing of God. Prophets were anointed. As were kings. And so also were priests. Each of them was anointed. The oil was poured over their heads to symbolize the outpouring of the Spirit upon them. So, this child, this Christ, this anointed one, would be a prophet. He would tell of God and teach his ways. He would be a king. He would rule over his people justly and with kindness. And he would be a priest, anointed by God – and, as God’s priest, he would offer – as a sacrifice for his people’s sins – nothing less than his own life.
Did the shepherds put all those details together in their thinking? As they were making their way from the field to the little town of Bethlehem, did they know all this? I doubt it. Even Jesus’ disciples didn’t fully grasp his mission until after his resurrection. But still, there was something compelling in the angel’s announcement that caused the shepherds to “go…and see this thing that [had] taken place, which the Lord [had] made known to [them].” And we notice that they not only went to Bethlehem. They also returned, “[making] known what had been told them about [the] child…glorifying and praising God for all they had seen and heard.”
I wonder: Is there in us today a bit of what was in those shepherds long ago? Are we intrigued enough by the promises held forth in this birth announcement – this evangel – to lay aside, at least for a time, our other pursuits and to check it out?
Can we see in the promise of a Savior who lays down his life for us the prospect of freedom from our guilt? Can we see a release from the burden of our sins, the offer of a lasting rest from the wearisome load of shame we bear? Nothing else in all the world is given or even promised that will free us from our sins. I know of nothing. The only thing that comes close is the misguided notion that we have no sin, no guilt, no account to give to a holy God. But you and I know better. There is also, I suppose, the claim that, if we try hard enough, we can make up for our sins and save ourselves. Good luck with that, right?
You and I need a Savior, precisely because we cannot save ourselves. And it’s a Savior whose birth the angel announced to the shepherds. A Savior like no other – certainly nothing like Augustus and his kind, who would sooner have sacrificed you than sacrifice themselves. Only Jesus has given his life for us. You and I also need a Lord – not one like Augustus who would squeeze the very life out of us – but, rather, one like Jesus, who restores life and gives it an expansive abundance. And we need a Christ – not a self-proclaimed egotist who needs our praise to make him feel important – but one who is anointed by God, chosen by him, who draws from us our willing praise because he merits it.
All this we have in Jesus, and we have it in no other. So, turn aside – won’t you? Turn aside from your other pursuits and see for yourself. And when you do, you may become like those shepherds of long ago, unable to quit talking about what you have seen and unable to restrain your praise. Or you may become like Mary, unable to stop thinking about it – and treasuring it in your heart.
