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Christmas Eve Sermon

Luke 2:1-20

December 24, 2025

Rev. Rebecca DePoe

2 In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no place in the guest room.[a]

The Shepherds and the Angels

8 Now in that same region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 Then an 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,[b] 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,[c] praising God and saying,

14 “Glory to God in the highest heaven,

    and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”[d]

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 and 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, just as it had been told them.

There’s a line from the musical Wicked that’s been stuck in my head this Advent. It goes, “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.” And whether you’ve seen the show or not, you don’t need a Broadway ticket to understand the feeling. It’s the moment when you try to do the right thing- when you show up, tell the truth, love generously. And instead of things getting easier, they get harder. The relationship gets complicated. The situation gets messier. The cost gets higher than you expected. And somewhere along the way, you find yourself thinking, was this supposed to end differently?! If you’re here tonight feeling a little tired, a little tender, or quietly disappointed by how this year turned out- you’re not alone.

As much as that line sounds modern, the experience isn’t. It’s actually right at the heart of the Christmas story. Because when we tell the story of Jesus’ birth, we usually tell it softly. By candlelight, with familiar carols and Christmas trees. But for the people living it, this was not a gentle or easy moment. This was a story full of disruption and risk. Mary saying yet to God didn’t make her life simpler- it made it more dangerous. Joeseph doing the faithful thing didn’t earn him praise. It cost him his plans and his. Reputation. Even the journey to Bethlehem happens because of Rome doesn’t care how inconvenient it is to make a pregnant lady return to her husband’s hometown. This isn’t a story about everything falling neatly into place. It’s a story about love showing up when the cost is real.

Luke’s gospel begins the Christmas story not with angels or shepherds, but with a decree. In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus… Before there’s a manger or a song, there’s paperwork. There’s politics. There’s an empire reminding ordinary people how little control they actually have.

This is a story for anyone who has discovered that faith doesn’t exempt us from systems that don’t care about our vulnerability. This is not a story that begins with choice. It begins with compliance. With people doing what they are told because there is no alternative. And that matters- because this is the world God chose to enter.

If you’ve ever discovered that faith does not exempt you from systems that don’t care how tired you are, how fragile you feel, or how much it costs you to show up- then you already understand something essential about Christmas.

Mary and Joseph aren’t traveling because they want to- they’re traveling because they have to. And that detail matters. Because from the beginning, this story tells us that God is not born into ideal circumstances, but into real ones- into bodies that are tired, systems that are unjust, and lives already stretched thin.

And this is where I want to pause and name what I believe is at the very heart of the Christmas story. Not just tonight- but always.

God meets us inside the cost of love.

Not after the journey is over. Not once the danger has passed. Not when we can look back on a situation with the gift of hindsight.

God meets Mary inside the risk of saying yes to giving birth to the Son of God. God meets Jospeh inside the quiet cost of doing the faithful thing. And God meets this family on the road- tired, vulnerable, and far from home.

Christmas is not the promise that love will be easy. It is the promise that God will not be absent from it.

And then Luke turns our attention to the shepherds. Not the powerful. Not the prepared. Just people doing their jobs. Watching sheep. Working the night shift. Trying to make it through an ordinary evening. And that’s important. Because the first people to hear the good news aren’t waiting for a miracle. They’re not looking for a sign. They’re just trying to get through the night.

When the angels appear, it’s not a sweet interruption. It’s terrifying. We rush past that fear because we want the song. But Luke doesn’t rush it. Because before good news feels comforting, it often feels disruptive. Before it feels like peace, it feels like losing control. Luke tells us they are sore afraid- because encounters with God have a way of disrupting whatever sense of control we think we have. The shepherds don’t ask for this moment, but once it comes, it changes everything. They’re invited into a story that will cost them their comfort, their routine, and their certainty- but not their dignity.

After the angels leave, the shepherds are left with a choice. No spotlight. No guarantee. Just a decision. Luke tells us they say to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place.” Which sounds simple- until you remember what they’re leaving behind. Sheep don’t watch themselves. Night shifts don’t end early. Going to Bethlehem means risk. It means responsibility left unattended. It means trusting that this strange, terrifying, beautiful message is worth the cost of getting up and going.

And they go. Not because they understand everything- but because they’ve been invited into something largest than themselves. They step into the story, not knowing how it will change them, only knowing they can’t stay where they are.

Luke tells us that after the shepherds see the child, after they share what they’ve been told, they return to their fields- glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen. They don’t stay in Bethlehem. Their lives aren’t magically transformed. The work is still here. The night shift beckons them home for the sheep still need tending. But they go back changed. That’s how Christmas works. We don’t leave our lives behind- we return to them, carrying the quiet knowledge that God has already been there. Like the shepherds we return carrying something we didn’t have before: the knowledge that God has met us exactly where we are.

That’s the quiet miracle of Christmas. Not that love suddenly becomes easy, but that God shows up inside it. The shepherds don’t escape the cost of their lives- but they discover they are not alone in it. And neither are we. If love has cost you something this year. Your energy. Your certainty. Your heart. This night tells the truth about God. God meets us inside the cost of love.

There’s a reason that I’ve had the song “No Good Deed” stuck in my head this Advent. Because sometimes loving well really does cost us more than we imagined. Sometimes doing the faithful thing leaves us tired, misunderstood, or stretched thin. Christmas doesn’t deny that truth. It tells it honestly.

But Christmas adds something more. It tells us that when love costs us something, God does not step back. God steps closer. The shepherds return to their fields changed, not because their lives are easier, but because they now know they are not alone. And we leave this place the same way- back to real lives and real costs- carrying the quiet stubborn hope that God meets us inside the cost of love.

That is the good news of this night.

Not that love is painless-

But that Emmanuel means God with us, even here, even now.

Merry Christmas,

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.