Our Sermons

Bible Passage: Micah 5:2-5
Pastor: Pastor Berg
Sermon Date:  December 25, 2023

Why Bethlehem? Of all the places in Israel, why that little town of Bethlehem? Bethlehem was so insignificant, that it wasn’t even large enough to list when Judah was assigned her as part of her territory. Sure, some significant things happened there in the past. Bethlehem Ephrathah, not to be confused with the Bethlehem in Zebulun, was the place where Jacob’s wife, Rachel, died giving birth to Benjamin, Jacob’s youngest son. Bethlehem was the home of Naomi and Ruth and Boaz, great and great great grandparents of King David. It was also David’s birthplace. But despite all those things, Bethlehem never grew to be more than a village. The prophet Micah says it himself–you are small among the clans of Judah. So, why little Bethlehem, for something so significant?

Obviously, we can’t answer that question any better than saying, “Because that’s what God wanted.” But it follows a pattern, doesn’t it? That’s often how God operates. “and God chose the lowly things of the world and the despised things, and the things that are not, to do away with the things that are, so that no one may boast before God.”  That’s why we Look to Little Bethlehem on this Christmas Day. God chose this place to carry out one of the most essential and monumental truths for our faith. God becomes man, he takes on human flesh–the incarnation as it’s called. By why? Why did it have to be this way?

The man I’m going to introduce you to was not a scrooge. He was a kind, decent, mostly good man. Generous to his family, honest in his dealings with other men. But he just didn’t believe in all that incarnation stuff which churches–like ours–proclaim at Christmas. It just didn’t make sense and he was too honest to pretend otherwise. He just couldn’t swallow the Jesus Story, about God coming to Earth as a man. “I’m truly sorry to upset you,” he told his wife, “but I’m not going to church with you this Christmas Eve.” He said he’d feel like a hypocrite. He’d much rather just stay at home. But he would wait up for them. And so he stayed and the rest of his family went to the midnight service. 

Shortly after they drove away, snow began to fall. He went to the window to watch the flurries getting heavier and heavier and then went back to his fireside chair to read his newspaper. Minutes later he was startled by a thudding sound…then another…and then another. At first the thought someone must be throwing snowballs against his living room window. But when he went to the front door to investigate, he found a flock of  birds huddled miserably in the snow. They’d been caught in the storm and, in a desperate search for shelter, had tried to fly through his large picture window. Well, he couldn’t let the poor creatures lie there and freeze, so he remembered the barn where his children stabled their pony. That would provide a warm shelter, if he could direct the birds to it. Quickly, he put on his coat and boots and tramped through the deepening snow to the barn. He opened the doors wide and turned on the light, but the birds did not come in. 

He figured food would entice them. So he hurried back to the house, fetched bread crumbs, sprinkled them on the snow, making a trail to the yellow-lighted wide open doorway of the stable. But to his dismay, the birds ignored the bread crumbs and continued to flap around helplessly in the snow. He tried catching them…He tried shooing them into the barn by walking around them and waving his arms. Instead, they scattered in every direction, except into the warm, lighted barn. And then he realized they were afraid of him. To them, he reasoned, I am a strange and terrifying creature. If only I could think of some way to let them know that they can trust me…That I am not trying to hurt them, but to help them. But how? Because any move he made tended to frighten them, confuse them. They just would not follow. They would not be led or shooed because they feared him.  “If only I could be a bird,” he thought to himself, “and mingle with them and speak their language. Then I could tell them not to be afraid. Then I could show them the way to the safe, warm…to the safe, warm barn. But I would have to be one of them to save them.” At that moment the church bells began to ring. The sound reached his ears above the sound of the wind. And he stood there, listening to the bells–Oh Come, All Ye Faithful…come ye to Bethlehem. And he sank to his knees in the snow.

But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, from you, will go out the one who will be the ruler for me in Israel. His goings forth are from the beginning, from the days of eternity. Therefore the Lord will give them up, until the time when the woman who is in labor bears a child. Then the remaining survivors from his brothers will return to the people of Israel. He will stand and shepherd with the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. They will dwell securely, for at that time he will be great to the ends of the earth. This one will be their peace. Look to Little Bethlehem! “From you, will go out the one who will be the ruler for me in Israel.”  The Messiah, the ruler of Israel would originate from Bethlehem. He would “go out” from there. He would be born there, yes, as a human baby. God is not confined to a specific place or time, such as Bethlehem when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Micah says, “Therefore the Lord will give them up, until the time when the woman who is in labor bears a child. Then the remaining survivors from his brothers will return to the people of Israel.”  When the woman who is in labor bears a child certainly cannot refer to God. God is not born. God is. God is not the brother of Israel or any other nation. God is God. There can be no other explanation of Micah’s description than he is talking about a man. A man would come out of Bethlehem, a man would be born and his fellow mankind would return to join him and the Israelites. He would “go out” from there, but he’s not from there. In fact, as Micah says, “His goings forth are from the beginning, from the days of eternity.”  Jesus told the Pharisees, “Amen, Amen, I tell you: Before Abraham was born, I am.”  Only God existed from the days of eternity, from the beginning. Only God could as Micah says, “stand and shepherd with the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. They will dwell securely, for at that time he will be great to the ends of the earth.” It’s clear from Micah’s description of the coming Messiah that he would be God. Micah describes him as having characteristics and doing things that only God can do. So Micah describes the coming Messiah as both God and man. But all of this is not news to us. Jesus is true God and true man. But why? Why did Jesus have to be both God and man? 

In his sermon on the mount, Jesus compares us to birds. He talks about how God loves them and cares for them and how we are much more valuable than they. In the story I told you a little earlier, the birds had a big problem. They were caught in a snowstorm. They were without food or shelter. Without someone intervening in their lives, they would die. In our life story, we are much like those birds caught in the snowstorm. By nature we have a big problem, a spiritual problem. We, too, are caught in a blizzard of sorts–the blizzard of our sins. The Bible describes our spiritual condition like a black out, a darkness so thick you can’t even see your hand in front of your face. A spiritual whiteout–like that of a blizzard–is just as dangerous. You don’t know which way is up or down. You can’t tell which direction you are going. In the confusion, we desperately grasp for anything that might guide us to safety. But like those birds, our attempts are in vain. We flounder around helplessly in our sinfulness. We hear the thunder of God’s law as it drums in our ears and echoes in our minds. We hear promises of judgment and punishment  and we’re terrified. How could we even think of approaching a God who promises such things? How could we not flee from his presence when he approaches us? 

We had a terrible problem, you and I, as we sat in the blizzard of our sins. Death was inevitable–just as it was for those birds. The man in our story couldn’t become a bird, but our God could become man. And he did. In the last place one would ever look, a stable, in little insignificant Bethlehem, Jesus took on human flesh. He didn’t do it just so we wouldn’t be afraid of him. No, he did it because it was the only way to save us. Our problem was two-fold. In order for us to enter God’s presence in heaven, we needed to be perfect. Of course, we are not. We not only commit actual sins every day, we were born in sin. We are inherently sinful. But that’s only part of the problem. Not only are we not perfect, but we’ve wronged God in every way imaginable. Every one of his holy laws we’ve broken, Every righteous decree we have failed to follow. And those misdeeds, those disobeyed orders, those sins have to be punished. Our God cannot be true to himself if he would compromise. he couldn’t let those sins go unpunished and he can’t let imperfection into his perfect heaven. Like the birds in the snow, it’s a hopeless situation. 

And it’s because of that hopeless situation that our Messiah, that Jesus, had to be both God and man. In order for us to enter heaven, we need to be perfect–we need to keep all of God’s laws and decrees without faith. Jesus, in order to be our substitute, needed to live under the same laws and decrees that we do. But God is not subject to the law–but man is. In order to be under the law, Jesus had to be true man. But no man can keep the law perfectly, And even if he did, it would not be applicable to anyone else but himself. But if he were also God, he could pass on his perfection to everyone. That’s why Jesus had to be true God. he had to be man to live under the law and God to live perfectly and pass on that perfection.

But that only solves part of the problem. There’s still the matter of our sin and the punishment we have earned. A truly just God can’t simply ignore the sin. It has to be punished. And in order for it to be forgiven, blood has to be shed. “The wages of sin is death.” Someone had to die. God can’t die, but man can. Jesus had to be man so that he could take our punishment for us–so he could die. But the death of a mere man wouldn’t pay the punishment for anyone but himself. But if he were God, his death would count for all sins of all time. That’s why Jesus had to be God–so his death would count for everyone. 

Jesus had to be both God and man in order to save us. It was absolutely necessary. And that why what Micah describes here–what we can the incarnation–God taking on human flesh is essential to our faith. He had to become one of us in order to save us. That cosmic collision of man and God didn’t take place in palace or in the holy city–but in a barn, a stable, in the little town of Bethlehem. It was witnessed by the humble and the lowly. It was an afterthought in the then bustling Bethlehem, where there was no room in the inn.

And that’s how God still operates today. he comes to us through simple water, bread, and wine. He comes with simple words that even the smallest of children can memorize and understand. But what he gives us here is anything but simple. Find Christ here in the manger, wrapped in Micah’s prophecy. Hold him, never letting go! Know that as you hold this little human Child, unimpressive though he appears, you hold your very God, begotten from all eternity, now weak and helpless that he might make you strong. Look to Little Bethlehem! “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in you.”  Amen