Humility and Grace: A Lesson from Jesus’ Birth

SPEAKER 01 : 0:00

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men, and the light shines in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not. There was a man sent from God whose name was John. The same came to bear witness of the light, that all men through him might believe. He was not that light, but was sent to bear witness of that light, that true light, that that lights every man that comes into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. He came to his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them he gave the power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name, which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And the word was made flesh and tabernacled among us, And we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. The Apostle John was something of a poet. You can tell it by the measured lines of the opening of his gospel, the way he phrases it, the way he puts it together and pieces it together to tell his story. When John finally sat down to write his gospel, he had more material than any scroll or collections of scrolls could ever have held. In fact, he closed his gospel by saying this, There are also many other things which Jesus did, that which if they should be written every one, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that should be written. Amen. And so when this great man decided to open his gospel the way he did, I think it deserves careful attention. He didn’t open the way Matthew did, or Mark, or Or Luke, he began with what I just read you. That whole section, in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God, and the Word became flesh and camped out with us. I asked Brent to sing the spiritual Sweet Little Jesus Boy because it’s a favorite of mine. It’s a favorite because it carries such a clean, simple version of the gospel and because it is so beautiful in the way in which it expresses that gospel. I’ve long been fascinated by the Negro spiritual and how a semi-literate people in slavery, really and through the process of slavery, could develop such power and such depth in their music and such incredible theology whenever you take the time to listen and to think about what it is that you’re hearing. I think it may be the simplicity that makes the difference. I know the doctrinal purists will quibble over doctrinal lapses here and there. They don’t quite measure up to whatever their particular doctrine would be, but they miss something crucial when they do that. Hardly any of those slaves could read or write. They could not sit down with a Bible in their lap and read it. They could not page back and forth through that Bible and search out proof texts. They, in many cases, could only hear the Bible when it was read to them. And they heard what preachers would preach to them from the Bible. And they heard all this about Jesus and Jesus and Moses were extremely precious to them. Do you know why? They were both liberators of slaves. That’s one of the reasons for the old song, Go down, Moses, go down to Egypt land. Tell old Pharaoh, let my people go. You have to understand when a song like that comes out of slavery, it takes on special meaning for the people who sing it. They identified with the lowly birth of Jesus. He became one of them. It meant something to them that he was born in a barn and laid in a cow’s feeding trough. That said something about this one that was there. They understood something else, I think, that was surprising. They identified themselves among those who crucified Jesus. This is a pretty complex theological idea. They didn’t, and did you notice it as you listened to the song? We didn’t know who you was. We did these things. Our eyes was blind. We couldn’t see. We didn’t know it was you. There is remorse. There is a repentance of the same kind of depth that you read in Daniel’s prayer in the ninth chapter of Daniel, that long and wonderful prayer of that man. And there is no blaming of anyone else For what was done. On that case, it was we, not they, who were responsible. Just seem like we can’t do right. Look how we treated you. But please, sir, forgive us, Lord. We didn’t know it was you. It’s fascinating to me how people taken slaves and sold into a nation where the dominant religion was Christian could see past the religion of their masters and identify so strongly with Jesus. It’s an interesting story how that possibly could have ever happened because you would think that they would have said, look, these people are Christians and they’re holding us as slaves. I wouldn’t want any part of that. But somebody… read the story of Jesus to them. And I think one of the reasons they did identify it had to do with the circumstances of Jesus’ birth. He was not born in the big house. He wasn’t born in one of the master bedrooms where they have all the nurses and everybody taking care of them. He wasn’t laid on satin sheets. He was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger on some hay in a stable with all the smells and sounds of a stable around. And, of course, those of you who spent much time there may have some fond memories of that. The person who composed that spiritual knew something very important. He knew that this baby, born and laid in a manger, came from a different place. It’s right there in the lines of the song. It’s implicit. It isn’t stated where this is not a doctrinal polemic. He knew that that baby came from somewhere else. He was the Lord before he came, and we didn’t know that. What an incredible thing that is. Didn’t know you come to save us, Lord, to take our sins away. But please, sir, forgive us, Lord. We didn’t know it was you. How did the man who composed this beautiful old song, spiritual, know this, this way? Well, he knew it from the first chapter of John. He’d heard it read, those marvelous rhythms with the sound that comes along with it and the visions that it brings down. He knew all that. He also knew that the word, he didn’t believe that the word descended on Jesus at his baptism. And he didn’t believe that Jesus became the word. He believed he was the word and that he came. It was you. You came. You, Lord, came to save us. The truth. was in John’s words. And all the man who wrote that spiritual did was pull him out, think about him long and hard, and sit there, perhaps rocking in a chair, and put that song together. What a genius he was. In the beginning was the Word. The Word was with God. And the Word was God. And then there’s this simple formula. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world didn’t know him. Our eyes was blind. We couldn’t see. We didn’t know who you was. I’m not particularly happy with the sophistication that we think we have nowadays. I think we are altogether too sophisticated for our own good. We would serve ourselves better if we could find less self-esteem and greater esteem for the Master, who maybe even to this day we don’t fully know who He is. And perhaps if we could just remember what He said. He said the servant is not greater than his Lord. If Jesus could be born in a manger, if Jesus could be placed at risk in the world, if Jesus could be a friend of publicans and sinners, if his great entry into Jerusalem was riding on a donkey, maybe we could learn a thing or two ourselves about how we handle ourselves in the world. The world treats you mean, Lord. Treat me mean, too. But that’s how things is down here. We didn’t know it was you. You done showed us how we is trying. Master, you done showed us how even when you’s dying.