A Discovery

Luke 2:13–15 (NIV)

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

CONSIDER THIS

When light is finally revealed, when the dawn breaks over the horizon and light comes into its full glory, it comes with great rejoicing. People turn to its beauty with wonder, the world begins to move toward its light, birds begin their song, and all creation comes to life. Light attracts. And when it does, those gathered around it radiate a glory that is indescribable and unmatched.

An angel appears to certain poor shepherds in the darkness of their fields at night; it declares the glory of God’s in-breaking light in the darkness of a sin-filled, broken creation desperate for rescue. And the announcement of that truth was so powerful, so radiant, that it ushered in the glory of heaven with it. One angel became a majestic glory that filled the skies, not showing off for its own radiance or attention but rejoicing only in the glory of God and sharing a blessing of peace to those in its light. 

Light requires response. We can awaken to its beauty or hesitantly squint our eyes at its brightness. When the light, and its effects, awaken in us, most often, it will cause us to delight in the glory of its radiance. The awakening of light—that is the awareness of salvation, redemption, and life that comes with it—will cause our rejoicing in the reality of it and the author to whom it belongs. 

When a sunrise dawns upon itself into day, creation can’t contain its excitement. People will literally declare its wonder and beauty. Creation will give thanks for the light’s arrival with its life. And when the light of Christ is born into the world, the heavens and earth respond to its gift, glorifying God for its arrival, and the shepherds respond to its coming with their eager participation and joyful discovery. 

The announcement of the arrival of the Messiah, the Savior generation upon generation had longed for, had finally come; heaven made itself visible on earth and glorified God in response. The response of the heavenly hosts was worship. But the worshipful response of the shepherds was the curious, joyful discovery of the one the heavens rejoiced in. They went to see for themselves. Like eager children, who’ve been told an exciting discovery, they run to the light with anticipation, curiosity, and maybe even a twinge of uncertainty. They went to discover for themselves what God had sent into the world. The announcement from the angels may have been meaningful, but the personal discovery of it was their actual moment of awakening.

The light remains a thing of beauty, mystery, and wonder, a gift to enjoy when it’s something we simply admire. But when we personally examine and playfully discover the light in interactive and curious ways, we become awakened to the fullness of its power. Light, especially the light of Christ, extends an invitation, attracting and wooing us to itself, like a moth to a flame. And that invitation, the glory of it, welcomes a choosing response on our part. The invitation from the angels to the shepherds is an almost prophetic reflection of a coming invitation from Jesus himself. When calling the disciples to discover the fullness of the gospel as witnesses and practitioners of it, he simply invited them to “come and see” (John 1:39). Jesus invites them to respond to a simple invitation and curiously discover for themselves who he will be. 

The light of God revealed in Christ is so glorious that it extends this invitation to delight in its discovery. And the thing about an invitation, of course, is that it leaves room for how you will choose to respond to it. An invitation isn’t coercion into participation; it’s an open-handed opportunity for someone to determine their level of involvement, whether they will sit in the darkness with skepticism and doubt, whether they will curiously seek to discover, or if they will eagerly bound toward the light in fullness of trust. 

Like some stand in awe of the sunrise, drawn to its beauty, while others turn away to the tasks of the day, light rises anyway, whether we revel in its beauty or not. This glorious Christmas passage reminds us that the gift of salvation and Christ the King has entered in with redemption so miraculous the heavens take notice. And it presents us with an invitation to discover the majesty of the King for ourselves. We take the information of that glory and gift and choose our response to it.

The potential, personal acceptance of it is the very awakening to glory. Becoming witnesses and practitioners of his glory in the process too, is an extraordinary gift that will unfold new waves of awakening and light in us.

The light has dawned. And with it, an invitation to move from our darkness to his glorious light . . . if we’re willing to discover it.

THE PRAYER

We’ve been waiting for this night with hopeful anticipation. We’ve ached with a broken creation in the shadows of sin, grief, fear, doubt, and pain. We’ve longed for your light to dawn and turned our eyes to the in-breaking rays of early light for our hope. And just like you promised, joy comes with the morning. Like the shepherds, as we edge our way toward Christmas dawn, and your good news begins to break in on our dark nights, help us to hear the glorious message of the angels like children joyfully curious to discover new things. And may our awakening in you call us to a life of response, a coming to your light with worship, active participation, and the discovery of turning ourselves to you. As Christmas morning arrives, awaken us with your glory, and we will run to your light. In Jesus’s name, amen.  

THE QUESTION

As you have witnessed moments in your life of God’s light breaking in, what has typically been your response? Are there places where you have simply received the news but not quite moved into resounding worship or childlike discovery? As we walk through this final night of darkness, before the dawn of his fullness of light, what are you longing to have awakened in you? How much of that awakening is dependent on your response to what has already come? 

For the Awakening,
Sarah Wanck

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