The Announcement of Jesus’ Birth
Dr. Bradford Reaves
Crossway Christian Fellowship
Luke 2:8-11
Every year as Advent begins, something awakens in the heart—lights go up, familiar music returns, and memories begin to warm the places in us that the rest of the year may leave cold. But Advent is more than nostalgia. It’s the holy season where we slow down and enter again into the Scriptures—into the real settings, the real people, the real sounds, smells, and textures of the night when God entered the world unnoticed by most, but unforgettable to a few.
A few weeks ago we were looking at this passage and we talked about the “suddenlies”—how God steps into human history with little warning, and how His next great sudden return is soon approaching. Today, we come back not for the suddenness, but for the nearness. For the small details, the quiet beauty, and brushstrokes that Luke gives us that reveal the heart of God in the birth of His Son.
If we listen carefully, this text glows with Christmas color.
1. THE SETTING: SHEPHERDS IN THE FIELDS (v. 8)
Now while he was serving as priest before God when his division was on duty, (Luke 1:8)
A. Shepherds—The Unexpected Audience
We tend to romanticize shepherds—fluffy sheep, peaceful pastures. But in the first century, shepherds were near the bottom of society. They were:
• Considered ceremonially unclean
• Often suspected of being thieves
• Kept at a distance from polite religious life
And yet these are the first to hear the announcement. God bypasses Herod’s palace, the temple elite, and Rome’s power structures to come to the shepherds. The first Christmas sermon is preached to people who smell like sheep. But understand that this was not an oversight or happenstance. This was Divinely orchestrated to say to the world that Messiah was not coming for just the righteous, or the wealthy, or the elites of society. God’s arrival was for everyone, down to the outcasts of society.
This is a God who sees the overlooked. Reaching for analogous to help understand the incarnation, some have likened it a symphony, in all of its complexity and power - magnificence carried over a grand expanse. But when he became human, he became a humble fold tune, simple and shortened. In this he lost nothing of his Godhead, his eternal character, his attributes, absolute purity, and changeless excellence.
B. “In the Same Region” — Near Bethlehem
This phrase is easy to skip, but it matters. Bethlehem was the location of: Rachel’s death (Gen. 35). David’s childhood, and the prophesied birthplace of Messiah (Micah 5:2)
But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are too little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose coming forth is from of old, from ancient days. (Micah 5:2)
Many scholars note that the flocks near Bethlehem were likely temple flocks, raised specifically for sacrificial use in Jerusalem only five miles away. Bethlehem’s shepherds were known to care for the temple flock. These men may have also protected and cared for the lambs used in temple sacrifice. If so, then the shepherds caring for sacrificial lambs are the first to hear about the Lamb of God. God speaks to them because their entire life’s work pointed to Him.
C. “Keeping Watch… by Night”
Shepherds rotated in shifts. The phrase “keeping watch” implies alertness—eyes open in the dark, listening for predators.
Night in Scripture is never just the absence of sunlight—it is often the setting God chooses to do His deepest work. The night strips away distractions, quiets the noise of the world, and reveals the true condition of the heart. Over and over again, God meets His people in the dark: Abraham receives the covenant beneath a canopy of stars (Genesis 15:5–6); Jacob wrestles with the Angel of the Lord until the breaking of day (Genesis 32:24–30); young Samuel hears the voice of God for the first time while lying still in the night (1 Samuel 3:3–10);
David sings, “At night His song is with me” (Psalm 42:8); and Jesus Himself withdraws to lonely nighttime places to pray (Mark 1:35; Luke 6:12).
Even the Exodus happened under the cover of darkness (Exodus 12:29–31), and Paul and Silas lifted their hymns to heaven at midnight in a prison cell (Acts 16:25). And if we are honest, many of our most Spirit-led moments of prayer have not happened at noon but at 2:13 AM—those mysterious moments when you suddenly wake up with someone on your heart, aware that the Holy Spirit is nudging you to intercede. You may not know why, or for whom, or what danger is looming, but you pray—only to discover later that God used those nighttime prayers in ways you could have never orchestrated.
The night reveals our need, and it becomes a furnace for prayer. That is why it is so fitting that God chose the night to announce the birth of His Son to the shepherds. They were awake, watching, guarding, and ready—living illustrations of what spiritual attentiveness looks like. The same God who moved in the night then is the God who still meets us in our darkest hours today.
2. THE HEAVENLY INTERRUPTION (v. 9)
And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. (Luke 2:9)
There are moments in life when God steps in—not gently, not subtly, not quietly—but unmistakably. Moments that feel like heaven has broken protocol and pulled back the curtain between the seen and unseen. We don’t plan for them. We can’t schedule them. They arrive like a divine appointment written on God’s calendar long before we ever took our first breath. These are not the “suddenlies” we explored before—those unexpected moments when God shifts the storyline in an instant. No, this is something even more personal. This is a heavenly interruption—when God inserts Himself into the narrative so clearly, so undeniably, that everything else has to stop and take notice.
We tend to think of our lives as linear, predictable, lived in tidy boxes of routines and responsibilities. The shepherds in Luke 2 certainly did. Their night was as ordinary as it gets—same hills, same sheep, same rotation of watch duty. Nothing about that night suggested anything unusual. And that’s precisely when God loves to interrupt. He steps into the ordinary to reveal the extraordinary. He takes the mundane and fills it with majesty. It’s as if God delights in saying, “Even here. Even now. Even in this field, at this hour, with these men—I am present.” Divine interruptions rarely ask permission; they simply arrive.
A. “An Angel of the Lord Appeared” — One Messenger
It’s striking that the first sound from heaven that Christmas night was not a choir, not an army, not the booming of many voices—but one messenger. God didn’t open the skies with fanfare. He didn’t lead with spectacle. He began with simplicity. One angel is all He needed, because when God wants to speak, His message is never strengthened by volume—only by truth. One heavenly messenger carrying one divine announcement is enough to rearrange the universe.
This moment speaks to the subtlety and intentionality of God. Before the multitude arrives, before the heavens erupt in praise, God communicates personally, intimately, directly. He always begins with a messenger. Think of it: the God who spins galaxies doesn’t need a marching band coming up your street to get your attention. When He wants to speak to you, He does so in a way that arrests your attention and holds you—often gently, unmistakably, irresistibly.
That is the beauty of this scene. God enters quietly before He enters gloriously. He whispers before He thunders. He nudges before He overwhelms. One messenger steps forward, sent by the God who sees the shepherds, who knows their hearts, who understands their fear, and who desires relationship before revelation.
One angel. One moment. One message that would change the world.
B. “The Glory of the Lord Shone Around Them”
Notice: the light doesn’t shine from the angel. It shines around the Shepherds. This is Shekinah-glory language—the very same glory that: Filled the Tabernacle and led Israel through the wilderness. That glory was absent for 600 years is back. Israel hasn’t seen glory since the exile and when it finally returns, it doesn’t come to the Holy of Holies…It comes to a field. The glory of God has relocated from temple courts to common ground. To the shepherds and to you and I and everyone who will call upon His name.
C. “They Were Filled With Great Fear”
Luke chooses a vivid phrase here: phobon megan—literally, “mega fear.” This wasn’t mild discomfort or polite surprise. This was the overwhelming, knee-buckling terror that comes when the natural is invaded by the supernatural. Whenever the divine touches the human throughout Scripture, this reaction is almost always the same. Moses hides his face (Exodus 3:6). Isaiah cries out, “Woe is me!” (Isaiah 6:5). John falls down as though dead (Revelation 1:17). No one in the Bible ever fist-bumps an angel.
This is important, especially in our sentimental Christmas culture. The shepherds’ fear reminds us that Christmas isn’t cute—it’s cosmic. The birth of Jesus is not a Hallmark card moment; it is a heaven-breaks-into-earth moment. It is the invasion of divine glory into human darkness. Before joy comes awe, and before awe comes trembling. The first Christmas emotion recorded in Scripture isn’t nostalgia, and it isn’t warmth.
3. THE ADVENT MESSAGE (v. 10)
And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. (Luke 2:10)
There is a tenderness in the angel’s next words that almost feels like a hand on the shoulder. Heaven sees the trembling shepherds, hears the pounding of their hearts, and speaks the most repeated command in all of Scripture: “Fear not.” It’s as if God leans into the chaos of human emotion and says, “You don’t have to run. You don’t have to hide. I came close, but not to crush you.”
Then comes the announcement that echoes still today. It is the Gospel. The angel is announcing the one message that can shatter fear, silence guilt, and resurrect hope. And this message is not restricted to the privileged, the polished, or the powerful; it is “for all the people.” Every nation, every neighborhood, every sinner, every sufferer.
A. “Fear Not” — The Most Frequent Divine Command
When the angel speaks, the first words are not correction but comfort: “Fear not.” This isn’t a rebuke—it’s an invitation. God is saying, “Don’t keep standing where fear has frozen you. Step into what I’m about to reveal.” Every time God moves toward His people throughout Scripture, His purpose is never to crush but to call, never to intimidate but to draw near. The message of Christmas begins with the mercy of God steadying trembling hearts.
B. “I Bring You Good News” — Euangelizomai
The angel continues, “I bring you good news,” using the very word from which we get “Gospel”—euangelizomai. This is the language of proclamation, of preaching, of divine announcement. Before Jesus ever delivered a sermon, an angel preached about Him. Heaven declares what earth has been waiting to hear: salvation is not an idea or a system, but a Person, and He has arrived.
C. “Great Joy” — Chara Megale
The same shepherds who moments earlier felt phobon megan—mega fear—are now being offered chara megale—mega joy. When Christ enters the scene, fear does not get the final word. The glory that once terrified now becomes thrilling, because the presence of God no longer signals judgment, but redemption. Christmas turns trembling into rejoicing.
D. “For All the People”
And this joy is not selective or exclusive; it is “for all the people.” To Jewish ears, that meant all Israel. But Luke, writing under the Spirit’s guidance, shows us the wider horizon—that this Gospel will soon spill beyond borders, beyond ethnicity, beyond expectation. Christmas begins in a quiet field in Judea, but the reach of this Child stretches to every nation, every valley, every heart willing to receive Him.
4. THE GREATEST ANNOUNCEMENT (v. 11)
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.
This verse contains the most concentrated Christology in the Gospels. Three titles in one sentence with infinite meaning. (Luke 2:11)
A. “Unto You” — Personal and Direct
Before the angel ever gives titles or theology, he gives relationship: “Unto you.” The Messiah’s arrival is not a distant theological event—it is a personal gift. God does not send a Savior into the world in general; He sends Him to you, to me, to the undeserving shepherds who stand as representatives of the undeserving world. Advent is God’s way of making salvation unmistakably personal.
B. “Born This Day” — A Real Moment in Time
The Gospel is rooted in history, not myth. “Born this day” anchors the incarnation in a specific moment—an actual birth in an actual town on an actual night. Christianity does not float on ideas; it stands on events. This line reminds us that our faith rests upon God stepping into time, not humanity climbing toward Him.
C. “In the City of David” — Covenant Fulfilled
With this phrase, every promise made to David comes rushing back—2 Samuel 7, the pledge of an eternal throne, the hope of a righteous King. “City of David” isn’t just geography; it’s theology. It signals that God has kept His word. The newborn lying in a manger is the rightful heir to David’s throne, the long-awaited Messiah, the King who will reign forever.
D. “A Savior, Who Is Christ the Lord” — Three Titles, One Identity
In one breath, the angel gives the most concentrated Christology in Scripture: Savior, the One who rescues; Christ, the Anointed Messiah promised through the prophets; Lord, the divine title used for Yahweh Himself. The baby in the manger is not just a teacher or a miracle-worker—He is God in the flesh, the fulfillment of prophecy, the Redeemer of mankind, and the rightful King of all creation.
WHAT ADVENT INVITES US TO UNDERSTAND:
1. God meets people in ordinary places.
2. God still brings light into dark nights.
3. The Gospel produces joy, not pressure.
4. Christmas is personal: “Unto you.”
CONCLUSION: CHRISTMAS FORCES A DECISION
The shepherds didn’t get to stand in the field as neutral observers. When heaven invaded their night, they had to respond. And so do we. Christmas forces a decision. The birth of Christ doesn’t invite polite admiration—it calls for surrender. It doesn’t ask for seasonal sentimentality—it demands allegiance. When God breaks into the darkness with the announcement of a Savior, the only wrong response is indifference.
You can’t encounter this Child and walk away unchanged. The angel didn’t declare, “A helpful example has been born,” or, “A religious option has arrived.” He said, “A Savior… who is Christ the Lord.” If He is Savior, then we are sinners in need of saving.
If He is Christ, then He is the promised King. If He is Lord, then He has rightful claim over every inch of our lives. The shepherds heard, believed, and went. They left their routines, their comfort, their night watch—and they found the One who had first come to find them. That is the invitation of Advent: leave the familiar fields and come behold the Savior.
So the question that hangs in the air is simple and eternal: What will you do with the Child in the manger?
The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price. (Revelation 22:17)
