The Good Shepherd Came Down

Meditations on Psalm 23:5

On Christmas morning I’m going to lead Church of the Open Door through meditations of the wonder of Psalm 23 in light if the Incarnation. Because of Christmas, King David’s words describe the reality of our lives as Christians. The Lord is my Shepherd.

I’m journaling through a verse every morning this week, meditating on the actuality of Christ being my Good Shepherd who showed up in a manger in Bethlehem so that all that David says and feels about his Good Shepherd is true of me.

Here’s Day 5, Verse 5. You may want to subscribe or go to edunderwood.com to keep up with the series daily.

Day Five: You prepare a feast before m in the plain sight of my enemies. You refresh my head with oil; my cup is completely full (Psalm 23:5, NET Bible).

Best Christmas Ever!

“This is shaping up to be a pretty good Christmas.”

“Best Christmas ever!”

These are the sentences we all use. Sentences that betray our deep need to maximize the experience of this special season.

Problem is that when we’re honest with ourselves, there just aren’t that many “best-ever Christmases.” Even when we’re in the middle of a good one, we know that this is a happiness that can’t last.

All I have to do is think about some of our friends around the world or in our church who walk with Christ. In spite of their devotion to Christ, 2011 has been a year they’d just soon forget. Their prospects for a “perfect Christmas” are bad, very bad.

This is where verse 5 of David’s song about and to his Good Shepherd comes in.

Really David?

When I read the narrative accounts of David’s life, I have a hard time placing Psalm 23. When exactly did he experience all of this goodness? King David was constantly at war and dealing with the political intrigue and pressures of life “within the beltway” of Jerusalem.

His family was a mess. His own son tried to take his throne.

He sinned terribly. His adulterous and murderous behavior scandalized his administration.

He lost a baby.

So when exactly was this time when his cup of life was completely full?

A Good Shepherd in a Bad World

The secret to David’s joy in verse 5 was that he chose to focus on his Shepherd rather than his circumstances.

On his worst day, David knew that his Shepherd was still good.

David’s secret can be our secret. If ever there was a season we should concentrate on the goodness of our Shepherd rather than the badness of our life, it’s Christmas.

Question: What are some ways you’ve found that help you think more about the goodness of your Shepherd than the badness of your life during Christmas?

A Song About Christmas

I don’t know what young King David was picturing in his mind when God promised him that one of his descendents would reign forever in a Kingdom that God Himself would establish (2 Samuel 7). I suspect David’s pictures were pretty earthy and everyday.

But I do know what an older, more seasoned King David was picturing in his mind about forty years later, because after God had given him an oracle, a clearer understanding of what he had been promised, David was so overwhelmed that he wrote a song describing the majestic, supernatural coming of his Heir, the Priest-King, Psalm 110. The song has three parts:

• Conversation between YHWH and Adonai telling Adonai to sit it YHWH’s right hand until YHWH sends Adonai to establish His Kingdom (1-2).
• Description of the Coming Kingdom of Adonai (3-4).
• Warning that Adonai’s Coming to establish His Kingdom will involve judgment of the wicked (5-7).

Heresy or Hope?

Jews of Jesus’ time knew that Messiah would be a physical descendent of David, but they were not expecting this physical descendent of David to also be the Son of God. Jesus proved this simply by pointing out to them who was writing verses 1 and 2 of Psalm 110: David. You can read about it in Mark 12:35-37.

And that is our simple Christmas Truth—the baby born at Bethlehem was God.

They would not receive it because to them this was a scandalous idea, a shocking declaration, a shameful proposition. They didn’t want a God who came down to be one of them.

Another Hebrew, the author of the book of Hebrews, put this Incarnation into it’s most practical application: Hebrews 4:14-16. There he speaks of the wonder of the Son of God experiencing life as a human so that He could sympathize with our every temptation, our every trial!

We receive it because to us it’s not a scandalous idea but a cherished truth, not a shocking declaration but a comforting hope, not a shameful proposition but a glorious reason to worship Him and commemorate His birth. We want a God who came down to be one of us.

That’s our Christmas Truth—the baby born at Bethlehem was God.

Whatever pain you’re facing this Christmas, know that there is One who sits at the Right Hand of the Father who knows exactly how you feel. You’re not alone in your pain; Jesus is watching with a sympathetic heart.

The Father sent the Son to be the Savior of the world (1 John 4:14).

Living Nativity

This Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evening, weather permitting, we celebrate Christmas on the Hillside of Church of the Open Door with worship centered on the Incarnation of our Savior, Jesus Christ and wrapped around a living nativity scene.

Saint Francis of Assisi is credited with creating the first nativity scene in 1223 (a “living” one) intending thereby to cultivate the worship of Christ. The scene’s popularity inspired communities throughout Christendom to stage similar pantomimes and eventually to create elaborate and ever more elaborate static exhibitions with wax and ivory figurines garbed in rich fabrics set against intricate landscapes.

Another Player

These nativity scenes are accurate, if you’re limiting the players to those described in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, but if you expand the search to include all of the books of the Bible, you discover that one very important personage is missing—important if you want to understand what’s really going on in the universe.

The Bible tells us that there is a war going on that we cannot see with our eyes. Spiritual warfare is the ongoing war between invisible, angelic forces that affect you and me. A biblical view of the universe is this—everything visible and physical is the result of something invisible and spiritual. Christian, we are at war against the forces of evil and the battles are being lived out in our daily lives and the lives of those we love.

And never was that battle raging more intently than that holy night Christ was born away in a manger, in the little town of Bethlehem.

There was someone besides the Mary and Joseph anticipating the birth of the Son of God…an evil one, a liar and a murderer…the devil.

(more…)

The Unprivileged God

I’m awed that when God became a man, He didn’t demand special privileges.

The earthy birth stories of the gospels vigorously refute the sanitized scenes of church nativity pageants and religious Christmas cards. There was nothing silent about that night.

The crush and confusion of streets choked with fearful travelers trying to avoid any suspicion of disregarding Caesar Augustus’s cruel and insensitive order register for his whimsical census.

The desperate dialogue between Joseph and his betrothed: “The baby’s almost here. Where will we stay?” “I don’t know. Every room is taken. You see the ‘No Vacancy’ signs, don’t you?”

The rush to the barn, the quick look, the hurried cleaning: “Find some clean straw, unsoiled by these animals.”

The mother of God screams in pain as He, like all others, squeezes through the birth canal.

And then, there He is…

(more…)

“I love Christmas,” I remark to my Judy as we watch our grandson Zachary run through the grand firs in our neighborhood Christmas tree lot.

“I hate Christmas,” I say to this same Judy when I look at my calendar for December.

Judy tells me about the gifts we’re sending to our children and grandchildren around the world. “I love Christmas.”

Judy asks me what to tell the kids I want for Christmas. “Nothing, I’m good. I hate getting presents.” Bah! Humbug!

People come from all over the San Gabriel to worship the Lord Jesus at our amazing Living Nativity under the spectacular starry skies on our hillside campus overlooking Los Angeles. “I love Christmas!”

Hurting friends face their first Christmas after their jerk husband abandoned the family and the demands of the season just overwhelm them. “I hate how Christmas highlights pain.”

A young couple, first generation believers, express their joy for the privilege of establishing Christ-centered traditions in their home. “I love how Christmas highlights the difference between the kingdom of darkness and the Kingdom of the Son of His love.”

And this all happens in the span of about ten minutes!

It’s a schizophrenic season, isn’t it?

Questions: When do you most hate Christmas? When do you most love Christmas? How do you stay focused on the wonder of the Incarnation during your Bah! Humbug! moments?

Since our son-in-law David went down with a terrible and debilitating disease a month ago, a lot of Judy and mine’s life has been dedicated to “Zach duty.”

Zachary is our grandson—David and Celia’s fat-cheeked bundle of smiles whose energy stretches my almost 60-year-old body to its limits. He’s a robust, squirmy adventurer who chafes at every limitation.

But the one attribute that’s on my mind during this season we Christians commemorate the birth of Jesus is Zach’s dependence.

Without someone to love him and care for him, he’s totally helpless. He can’t feed himself, clean himself or protect himself. He doesn’t even know how to go to sleep on his own.

Watching Zach during this season helps me appreciate the humility of our Lord Jesus.

It was love for me—love for you—that moved the Creator of heaven and earth to be born on this little marble of a planet. It was mercy that moved Him to show up in a baby’s soft skin, totally helpless, totally dependent.

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory o the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).

There was nothing silent about that night!

I’m awed that when God became a man, He didn’t demand special privileges.

The earthy birth stories of the gospels vigorously refute the sanitized scenes of church nativity pageants and religious Christmas cards. There was nothing silent about that night.

The crush and confusion of streets choked with fearful travelers trying to avoid any suspicion of disregarding Caesar Augustus’s cruel and insensitive order register for his whimsical census.

The desperate dialogue between Joseph and his betrothed: “The baby’s almost here. Where will we stay?” “I don’t know. Every room is taken. You see the ‘No Vacancy’ signs, don’t you?”

The rush to the barn, the quick look, the hurried cleaning: “Find some clean straw, unsoiled by these animals.”

The mother of God screams in pain as He, like all others, squeezes through the birth canal.

(more…)