In the vast community of the universe only one little family went astray. By its own willful choice it took the downward path that ended in destitution, hunger, sickness, and death. Then Christ the Majesty of heaven stepped into the breach, gave "back the scepter into the Father's hands," and left His home in glory that He might help the little lost family back into the embrace of God. He, the Commander of the universe, became the gentle Comforter of a bewildered world.
That story is not new. It is as old as history. Yet, although we know so much of the vocabulary of Bethlehem, we seem to sense so little of its real meaning. We tell and retell the story, but what about the Servant-Saviour, the Center of the theme? We display the holly, but what about the humanity and the humility of it all? We exchange our gifts, but what about the great Gift from God's heart of love? We are fascinated by the scintillating tree of Christmas, but what about the sacrificial tree of Golgotha? There is the tinsel, but what of the tenderness hidden in the story? The lights and the glamour of Christmas attract us, but what about the veiled glory of service and sacrifice?
It is good to get behind the candles and the carols, behind the gifts and the gaiety, the greetings and the geniality, and sense anew the real object of the story. Its beautiful simplicity appeals to us, but the love behind it all makes it immortal.
How Christ Was Missed
The Son of God came not in the power of a king, but in the helplessness of a babe. He deserved a royal robe, but He was found in swaddling clothes. Later He donned the garb of a common laborer and found His place at the bench of the carpenter. Instead of a throne, a manger; in place of a palace, a crude barn. His advent was heralded not to the religious leaders of the day, but to humble shepherds guarding their flocks. He might have been welcomed by families of renown. Instead, that honor was given to the beasts of the stall. He might have been born into a family of wealth and culture. Instead, He took His place on the level of the poor.
"By becoming poor He could sympathize with the poor. His humanity could touch their humanity and help them to gain the perfection of right habits and a noble character... He became one with humanity, a partaker of their sufferings and afflictions."—Welfare Ministry, pp. 25, 26.
What condescending love! What humility!
Martin Luther in his own inimitable way expressed it in these words:
"When I am told that God became man, I can follow the idea, but I just do not understand what it means. For what man, if left to his natural promptings, if he were God, would humble himself to lie in the feedbox of a donkey?"—Roland H. Baiton, Here I Stand, A Life of Martin Luther (1950 ed.), p. 223.
The majority of the priests and men of importance missed Him at the manger because of the manner in which He came. "They had no true conception of His mission. . . . Thus the way was prepared for them to reject the Saviour."—The Desire of Ages, pp. 29, 30.
He did not stay in the manger, nor in His home of poverty. Leaving the toiler's bench He bade His disciples, "Follow me." Follow Him into what?
Follow Him into the hovels of the Judean villages and the crowded alleys of ancient Jerusalem, follow Him to the beds of the sick and the suffering, to the side of the downtrodden and discouraged. Walk with Him until you stand face to face with the degraded, the uncouth, the demented, the demon-possessed.
Could this really be the Messiah? Surely He was to do more important work than this. Would not the Messiah associate with the learned rabbis, compliment them on their meticulous rites and ceremonies, tell them what good men they were, what a great work they were doing, and what a glorious future was theirs in the new kingdom? Why should the long-looked-for One waste His time with such unattractive tasks? And so religion outlawed Him.
The church, the community, the nation, went on its busy way, passed Him by, "wrote Him off," and thus missed Him. And terrible was the doom that followed!
Even John the Baptist—a type of the forerunners of Christ's second coming—"did not understand the nature of Christ's kingdom. He expected Jesus to take the throne of David; and as time passed, and the Saviour made no claim to kingly authority, John became perplexed and troubled."— Ibid., p. 215. The tidings John's disciples brought of Christ's simple, unobtrusive activities, and the doubts they expressed, had their effect. He sent them back to Christ with the question, "Art thou he that should come, or do we look for another?" (Matt. 11:3).
"If John, the faithful forerunner, failed to discern Christ's mission, what could be expected from the self-seeking multitude?" —Ibid., p. 216.
Christ did not immediately answer their question. But as they stood and watched and wondered at His silence they saw and heard a great deal as Christ ministered to the needy, the suffering, the helpless. They bore the report to John. In his mind he reviewed the prophecy of Isaiah 61:1, 2 and was satisfied. With John we need to review that prophecy frequently until we see clearly and beyond all question that the evidence of Christ's divinity "was seen in its adaptation to the needs of suffering humanity. His glory was shown in His condescension to our low estate."—Ibid., p. 217.
The Stumbling Bloch Today
What is our conception of His mission for our day?
Were we to see the same Life lived again in a twentieth-century setting, we too would probably miss Him.
"Men acknowledge Christ in history, while they turn away from the living Christ. Christ in His word calling to self-sacrifice, in the poor and suffering who plead for relief, in the righteous cause that involves poverty and toil and reproach, is no more readily received today than He was eighteen hundred years ago."—Ibid., p. 56.
The experience of the good Samaritan is really part of the Christmas story when we see it in the light of Bethlehem and Calvary. And it presents to us a test as soul searching as any that faced the people of God in the days between Bethlehem and Calvary.
The story has a special meaning for denominational workers, for two of its principals were ministers in the cause of God.
The priest and the Levite were returning from an exalted worship service. To officiate at such a service, or to take part in it, was truly a great honor. But on their way home they met the challenge of a man in need. To stoop to help a stranger was below their dignity. They did not realize that in the form of this beaten and bruised unfortunate, weltering in his own blood by the road, God had planted a disguised opportunity for them to show whether their worship at the Temple had touched their hearts. Was their service in His cause doing anything for their souls?
They missed their opportunity. But they were not considered bad men. They were merely following the accustomed pattern. The Jews had even divested the Sabbath of all love, sympathy, and service, severely censuring Christ for His acts of benevolence performed on that day.
"Many today are making a similar mistake. . . . There are those who would think it lowering to their dignity to minister to suffering humanity. Many look with indifference and contempt upon those who have laid the temple of the soul in ruins. Others neglect the poor from a different motive. They are working, as they believe, in the cause of Christ, seeking to build up some worthy enterprise. They feel that they are doing a great work, and they cannot stop to notice the wants of the needy and distressed. In advancing their supposedly great work they may even oppress the poor. They may place them in hard and trying circumstances, deprive them of their rights, or neglect their needs. Yet they feel that all this is justifiable because they are, as they think, advancing the cause of Christ."—Christ's Object Lessons, pp. 382, 383.
"The Great Final Test"
Will we truly put on Christ? By the grace of God will we bring more genuine love into our service as workers? Or do we hesitate to emulate His humble service, His self-effacing humility, His benevolent life?
"Love to others is putting on the Lord Jesus Christ; it is walking and working with the invisible world in view. We are thus to keep looking unto Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith."—Welfare Ministry, p. 49.
Heaven is watching today with a tender regard, hoping that the people of God will not repeat the tragedy of long ago. The test of Bethlehem is still a test today.
"The truth for this time, the third angel's message, is to be proclaimed with a loud voice, (meaning with increased power), as we approach the great final test. This test must come to the churches in connection with true medical missionary work, a work that has the great Physician to dictate and preside in all it comprehends."—ELLEN G. WHITE, "Loma Linda Messages," p. 62. (Emphasis supplied.)
A careful study of the Spirit of prophecy reveals the fact that the term "medical missionary work," in all it comprehends, stretches far beyond the bounds of professional medical service. It embodies all acts of mercy, benevolence, and disinterested kindness, as well as medical ministry.
"Years ago I was shown that God's people would be tested upon this point of making homes for the homeless; that there would be many without homes in consequence of their believing the truth. . . . I have been shown more recently that God would specially test His professed people in reference to this matter. Christ for our sakes became poor. . . . He made a sacrifice that He might provide a home for pilgrims . . . even an heavenly. Shall those who are subjects of His grace . . . refuse, or even feel reluctant, to share their homes with the homeless and needy? Shall we, who are disciples of Jesus, refuse strangers an entrance to our doors?"—Testimonies, vol. 2, pp. 27, 28.
The challenge of Bethlehem is no make-believe test. It is real and pertinent to our time. Luther saw it clearly, and preached it with forceful vigor. Listen:
'The inn was full. No one would release a room to this pregnant woman. She had to go to a cow stall and there bring forth the Maker of all creatures because nobody would give way. Shame on you, wretched Bethlehem! The inn ought to have been burned with brimstone, for even though Mary had been a beggar maid or unwed, anybody at such a time should have been glad to give her a hand. There are many of you in this congregation who think to yourselves: 'If only I had been there! How quick I would have been to help the Baby!
"I would have washed his linen. How happy I would have been to go with the shepherds to see the Lord lying in the manger!' Yes, you would! You say that because you know how great Christ is, but if you had been there at that time you would have done no better than the people of Bethlehem. Childish and silly thoughts are these!"—Here I Stand, A Life of Martin Luther, p. 354.
Childish and silly thoughts! And why? Let Luther continue:
"Why don't you do it now? You have Christ in your neighbor. You ought to serve him, for what yin do to your neighbor in need you do to the Lord Christ h imself."—Ibid.
May it never be necessary for the Saviour to say to any of us, "'I was a stranger' in the twentieth century 'and ye took me not in. . . . Depart from me.'"
Thank God that there will be many on that day who will be surprised to know that the cup of cold water, which in all kindness they have placed in the hands of a stranger, has actually quenched the thirst of Christ, that in comforting the sick they have also brought comfort to His great heart, that in visiting those in prison they have brought cheer to the Majesty of heaven Himself. They have somehow learned that we "cannot come in touch with divinity without coming in touch with humanity." —Christ's Object Lessons, p. 384.
The True Glory of the Final Triumph
In the climax of the ages, when Christ finally triumphs over the hosts of evil, the whole world is to be "lightened with his glory." And what will that glory be? Will it be the glory of a world-encircling organization, the glory of a mighty line of institutions belting the globe?
No!
It will be something more real and personal. It will be the glory shining forth from the lives of sifted saints reflecting and demonstrating to all humanity "the glory shining in the face of Jesus," which is "the glory of self-sacrificing love." And in the light shining from Bethlehem and "from Calvary it will be seen that the law of self-renouncing love is the law of life for earth and heaven."—The Desire of Ages, p. 20.
Then let us meet the challenge of Bethlehem squarely. Let us make this holiday season an opportunity for serving the lowly, the poor, the outcast; and then may we take that spirit into our very lives, into all our service. Smug complacency, comfortable religion, has ever been the curse of the church. But the Lord delights in mercy, in a life overflowing with love, in heart religion.
