Series: Advent and the Gospel
Scripture Focus: Luke 2:10-11
The fire burns higher tonight.
Someone added fresh wood before the children arrived, and the flames leap upward with a joyful roar, scattering sparks into the darkness like little heralds carrying news.
The old man sits close to the blaze, warming his hands.
His eyes reflect firelight, but his mind is elsewhere, wandering the hills of Bethlehem, listening for angelic songs still echoing through the ages.
When he finally speaks, his voice is filled with a quiet certainty.
“Children,” he says, “you have heard of the Promise.
You have heard of the Light.
You have heard of the Hope that will one day make all things new.”
He pauses, leaning forward.
“Tonight you must hear why the Child came.
Not only what He did… but what He calls us to do.”
The Manger Was the Opening Move of a Mission
He draws a little cradle in the dirt with a stick.
“When God stepped into the world, He did not come as a king demanding loyalty.
He came as a baby, wrapped in cloths, laid in a manger.”
The children glance at the dirt drawing.
“This,” the old man whispers, “is how God begins His greatest works.
Not with thunder, but with tenderness.
Not with fanfare, but with faithfulness.”
He smiles, remembering something ancient and precious.
“You see, the manger is not merely a symbol of humility.
It is the doorway to mission.
The moment God walked into our poverty so He could walk us into His glory.”
The First Messengers Weren’t Kings but Shepherds
A spark leaps from the fire, and the old man watches it fade upward.
“When the Child was born,” he says, “God did not summon emperors.
He did not call the scholars of Jerusalem.
He called shepherds.”
He laughs softly.
“Shepherds!
Men whose clothes smelled of sheep and smoke.
Men who lived at the edges of society.
Men nobody would have chosen for a royal announcement.”
The children smile. They know this pattern: God chooses the unlikely.
“But heaven chose them,” the old man says, his voice warming.
“The sky ripped open.
Angels filled the night.
And the first gospel sermon in history was preached to men who slept under the stars.”
He lifts his hands.
“Do not be afraid.
We bring you good news of great joy.
For today, in the city of David, a Savior has been born to you.
He is Christ the Lord.”
The fire flares as if applauding.
“Children, the shepherds ran to see the Child.
But they did not stay silent afterward.
They became messengers.
They told everyone what God had done.”
He leans in with a tender firmness.
“And that… is our calling too.”
The Mission Flows From the Manger
He smooths the dirt where the cradle drawing still rests.
“Think of it,” he says.
“The eternal Word took on flesh.
The Light of the World walked into darkness.
Hope Himself lay in a manger.”
He looks each child in the eye.
“But He did not come only to be adored.
He came to be announced.”
Their faces grow solemn, understanding dawning.
“When God came near,” the old man explains, “He revealed His heart.
A heart that seeks the lost.
A heart that binds wounds.
A heart that carries the guilty into forgiveness.
A heart that breaks for every child stumbling in the night.”
He nods slowly.
“And if we belong to Him, His mission becomes ours.”
Mission Is Not a Strategy. It Is an Overflow.
The fire softens into a warm, steady glow.
The old man speaks gently now, like one inviting others into something precious.
“Mission does not begin with effort,” he says.
“It begins with encounter.”
He touches his chest.
“When the shepherds saw the Child, they could not contain themselves.
Joy spilled from their hearts like water from a broken jar.
The news they carried was too good, too bright, too alive to keep inside.”
He chuckles.
“You do not need to force a fire to burn.
You feed it, and it burns naturally.
So it is with those who have truly seen Jesus.”
The Mission of God Is Embodied
The old man stands slowly, stretching stiff bones.
“When God chose to save the world,” he says, “He did not send an idea.
He sent His Son.
In flesh.
In history.
In a real place, among real people.”
He steps away from the fire and places his hand on a child’s shoulder.
“So our mission must be the same.
Not words alone.
Not theories alone.
But lives that embody His truth.
Hands that serve.
Lips that speak grace.
Feet that walk into dark places carrying light.”
He returns to his seat and sighs contentedly, as though remembering years of faithful obedience in the name of the One he loves.
Walk it Out: Join the Story the Angels Began
The fire begins to settle into embers.
A few sparks drift upward, disappearing into the velvet sky.
The old man’s voice lowers to a reverent murmur.
“Children,” he says, “Christmas is not only something God did.
It is something God began.”
He lifts a glowing ember with a stick and lets the light shine on their faces.
“The angels announced.
The shepherds proclaimed.
The magi bowed and offered gifts.
Mary treasured and pondered.
Joseph obeyed.
And now it is our turn.”
He lets the ember fall gently back into the fire.
“This news is for all people.
Carry it.
Share it.
Live it.”
He looks toward the path leading home.
“Tomorrow you will walk into fields of your own—schools, neighborhoods, workplaces.
Go as the shepherds went.
Go with hearts burning.
Go with joy that cannot be hidden.”
Then, with a voice that sounds like the echo of the angels themselves, he adds:
“Live it out.
Share the truth.
Walk with courage.”
The night breathes softly around them, and the children rise slowly, knowing the mission that began in Bethlehem now rests in their hands.
