Thread

24. December 2025

Christmas Eve

Luke 2:1-20

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

The scene set isn’t cozy if you pay close attention. It’s night. Real night. “In the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night” (Luke 2:8). These are working people, outdoors, alert in the dark. And it’s to them—ordinary, tired, uncelebrated people—that God sends the first Christmas proclamation.

Then it happens: “An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them” (Luke 2:9). Luke doesn’t describe it as gentle. He calls it overwhelming. The shepherds respond as Scripture says sinners do when holiness draws near: “They were filled with great fear” (Luke 2:9).

That fear is not strange. It’s honest. God isn’t a decoration we hang on a season. He is the living Lord. When He draws near, a conscience wakes. We realize we are small, not clean, and not in control the way we like to imagine.

And then heaven speaks, not to crush that fear but to answer it with the Gospel: “And the angel said to them, ‘Fear not’” (Luke 2:10). That isn’t a sentimental phrase. It’s a command, backed by an announcement—because “fear not” only helps if there is a reason. “For behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people” (Luke 2:10). Not advice. Not a new technique. News—something has happened in the world that changes things for fearful people.

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11). That’s the heart and center today. “Unto you.” Not to the powerful first. Not to the impressive first. Unto you—shepherds, sinners, the unsure, the weary, the visitor who’s just trying to make sense of life, the lifelong churchgoer who knows the hymns by heart.

“A Savior.” Because the deepest trouble isn’t just stress or sadness. It’s sin, guilt, and death. And those aren’t solved by cheer. They’re solved by rescue. “Christ the Lord.” The promised One. And not merely God’s representative, but the Lord Himself coming near.

Then Luke gives the sign, and it’s striking in its simplicity: “And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger” (Luke 2:12). A baby. Wrapped like any baby, placed where animals feed.

This is where Christmas becomes astonishing. God’s answer to our night is not distance, but nearness. Not an idea floating above the world, but a life inside it. He does not save from a safe distance. He comes to where the darkness is, and He takes up our humanity so completely that He does not hover over weakness—He enters it.

The manger matters because it tells you what kind of God this is. He is not embarrassed by low places. He is not repelled by need. He is willing to be found in humility. “She gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger” (Luke 2:7). God has hands now. God has a heartbeat now. God has a mother now. He has taken what is ours—body and soul—so that He may heal what is ours from the inside.

And this isn’t meant to erase your humanity, as if salvation means dissolving into God or leaving creatureliness behind. Nor is it mainly a moral lesson about being nicer people. The child is given for something far more concrete: restoration. Healing. Rescue. 

Because if the problem goes as deep as it does—into our hearts, our wills, our mortality—then salvation has to go that deep too. It has to reach the whole person. Not just thoughts. Not just emotions. The whole human condition under sin and death. God comes near enough to touch it all.

That’s why the angel’s message is so direct: it is “unto you.” “Unto you is born… a Savior” (Luke 2:11). The gift is not vague. It is personal. It is given. And then the sky opens wider: “Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God” (Luke 2:13). And they sing: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” (Luke 2:14).

That “peace” is not first of all a feeling. It can include a feeling, but it is bigger than that. It is peace with God. It is reconciliation. It is the end of the war that sin began. And it is grounded not in our ability to steady ourselves, but in what this child will do.

Because Christmas already points to the cross—not to darken the night, but to clarify the gift. The baby is born to be the man who carries sin, faces death, and breaks it. The manger and the cross belong together: in both, God chooses humility as His path to victory.

So the shepherds do the simplest thing: they go where the Word sends them. “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened” (Luke 2:15). “They went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger” (Luke 2:16). God makes Himself findable. God gives a sign that can be seen, pointed to, spoken of.

And when they see it, they speak: “They made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child”(Luke 2:17). They don’t manufacture a message. They repeat what they received. And Luke says the people react: “All who heard it wondered” (Luke 2:18). That still happens. Some ponder. Some rejoice. Some don’t yet know what to do with it. But the Word has been spoken: a Savior has been born.

And Mary holds it quietly: “Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart” (Luke 2:19). Faith often looks like that—receiving God’s Word and keeping it close, even when you don’t yet see every step ahead.

So here is the simple comfort of Christmas Eve. If you come tonight with fear, or questions, or weariness, you are not out of place. The angels preached first to people in the dark. If you come tonight with guilt, you are not beyond hope. This is exactly why a Savior is born. And if you come tonight with joy, then let it be this kind of joy: not fragile and forced, but anchored in what God has done.

“Fear not… For unto you is born… a Savior” (Luke 2:10–11). That is not a suggestion. That is news. And the sign is not your strength, but God’s nearness: “You will find a baby… lying in a manger” (Luke 2:12). God has come close enough to carry you. Close enough to heal you. Close enough to save you.

This is the Word of the Lord that came to me, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing, you may have life in His + Name. AMEN.

Rev. Christopher R. Gillespie
St. John Ev. Lutheran Church & School - Sherman Center
Random Lake, Wisconsin