1. JESUS RECONCILES

JACOB ARMSTRONG

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 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."

(Luke 2:8-10 NRSV)

The Waffle House

A few years ago, during Advent, my two older daughters asked me a question I wasn't expecting: "Dad, will you ever take us to Waffle House?"

Mary and Lydia were eight and six years old at the time, and I had never taken them to Waffle House. I hold nothing against Waffle House — in fact, I kind of like it — but it was true, I had never taken them there. My two girls had seen this strange little building in the middle of their world, and naturally they had wondered, What takes place in this mysterious house of waffles? Without thinking twice, I said, "Yes, we will get up early before school and go."

There was one problem. We had not received all the necessary permissions. So, we gathered together and formed our argument and then went to present our case before their mother: "We will go to bed early, we'll have our clothes set out, no complaining, no grumbling, this will be a seamless operation." And after some deliberation, she said ... yes.

The night before our excursion, the local weather report said it was going to snow. I envisioned it in my mind: We would venture through the snow, a dad and his daughters on a memorable but dangerous journey, and finally make it to Waffle House with a few harrowing moments along the way. We would sit at a table by the big window and look out at a snowcapped shopping mall. Deer would dance through the Red Lobster parking lot. It would be magical.

Well, I woke up the next morning (it had not snowed), and it turns out that at five a.m. our house is totally devoid of magic. When I tried to wake the girls, they grumbled. When I reminded them of our plan, they kept right on sleeping. My plan was falling apart before my eyes.

"Hey, I went to bed at seven o'clock last night," I exclaimed. "We are going to Waffle House!" I roused them, and off we went.

On the ride over, from the back seat, Lydia said something that let me know the morning's adventure might be a story that I would still tell years later.

"Daddy, I don't feel normal."

"What do you mean, you don't feel normal?" I asked.

She replied, "You know — it's dark, we're going to a restaurant when usually we'd be getting ready for school. It just doesn't feel normal."

"Well," I said, "sometimes when you do something you don't normally do, you see something you don't normally see."

Pretty good line, Jake, I thought, especially at 5:45 a.m. So I said it again.

"Sometimes when you do something you don't normally do, you see something you don't normally see."

We walked into Waffle House before the sun had risen, two little girls wearing pink jackets in a place otherwise packed with men wearing work boots and drinking coffee.

We sat by the window. Cars were zooming by, hundreds of cars, headlights reflecting on the darkened streets. Mary asked, "Where are all these people going? Who are they, driving around in the dark?" I said "They're going to work, or coming back from work. In fact, these ladies who served us breakfast had to get up early to be here." Our server overheard our conversation. "Sugar," she said, "I've been here since 10:30 last night."

My daughters and I thought of all the people who work while we snooze. We talked about nurses, truck drivers, police officers, moms who stay up all night with kids — there's this whole world going on while we're asleep. We talked about our servers who had been here, unbeknownst to us, all night long.

Well, Waffle House was everything we had hoped for — waffles, sausage, hash browns, scattered, smothered, and covered. And it was then, a week before Christmas, that I saw something I don't normally see: God's people living and working at night. It hit me that the first people who got the news about the baby — the Messiah, the great Reconciler who would come and save us — the first ones were a bunch of shepherds, guys working the graveyard shift in the middle of the night. God wanted them to know that the good news was for them, so much so that God chose them to be the ones to hear the news first. The baby was born and wrapped in swaddling clothes, and God told the shepherds first. Not God made sure all the kings of all the great empires knew first that the Savior had come to Bethlehem. Nope. Not God went to the Temple and let all the priests who had given their lives to God be the first to know of the great arrival. Not what it says. The Bible tells us there were shepherds working at night, and the glory of the Lord shone around them.

And I wondered, if that grand announcement came tonight, would God go to Waffle House while it was still dark and tell the ladies who work all night?

Why Us?

As we might imagine, the shepherds were surprised they were chosen to receive this message. Notice the use of the word you in the angels' announcement. "I bring you good news of great joy." The Savior "has been born to you." It was happening in their town, and they were the ones being told. Surely they wondered, Why us?

Jesus Comes to the Unsuspecting

This seems to be a key ingredient in those God chooses. They don't see it coming! They don't see themselves as the ones God would want or choose.

Zechariah and Elizabeth were counting the days until retirement. Mary was living her life in Nazareth, a town in Galilee, a virgin pledged to marry a man named Joseph. Read into that: they were nothing special. The shepherds were just at work on just another night. Jesus was sent to them. And none of them saw it coming.

Jesus Comes to the Unqualified

The first things that the key players in the Christmas story thought of when told that Jesus was coming into their lives were all the reasons why they should not receive such news. Zechariah said, "I'm an old man!" Mary asked, "How can this be? I am a virgin." We don't hear the shepherds' response, but as normal working folk surely they felt unqualified to receive and then share the message.

When I first asked my bishop if I could start a church, I gave the worst sales pitch ever. I began by listing all the reasons I shouldn't be the one to do it. I was twenty-five, I had never pastored a church, the list went on. He said, "You're right. However, God does not call the equipped but equips the called." You may have heard that line before, but it rings true. God doesn't call the ones who have all the equipping and qualifications. But God does give the called all they need.

Jesus Comes to the Undeserving

The shepherds were not chosen because they met certain...