Come, See For Yourself

The Shepherds' Candle is the one we lit in our Advent Wreath this past Sunday. As the new flame strengthened, we were challenged to quietly name - and give thanks for - all those who have shepherded us. You've been led and encouraged, nudged and nurtured by lots of folks. Their influence has helped make you who you are and will continue to shape you throughout life.

Of course, the Good Shepherd is the the most transformational presence in our lives. In fact our life is hidden in Him. Thinking of that great truth, I want to encourage you to hear the invitation first offered to the shepherds at Jesus' birth as an invitation from God's heart to yours ... because it is. God sent a whole covey (as we say in the country) of angels to announce the great good news in song to the shepherds who were just minding their own business in the field that night. "Jesus is born for you!" is what they heard. Part of that good news was the invitation to go and see for themselves what God was doing. Come and see.

Well, curiosity may have killed the cat, but it changed the lives of those who dared find their way to the Christ child to see for themselves. We may not be able to see, except with our imagination, what it was like to peer over into that trough-now-baby bed and look God square in the eye, but we can see plenty if we're willing to go, look. It will probably still be an unexpected, upside-down kinda thing. I mean, if God would make the Prince of Peace to be a baby who's gonna need help with toddling, potty-training, navigating bullies and girls and siblings and more ... well, God's liable to do anything!

I figure the invitation for you and I to come and see for ourselves is really the invitation to look around at the new thing God is continuing to do all around us, maybe even through us and in us. Forgiveness, hope, courage, love, purpose ... all of those things are really God's doing. Of course, daring to open your eyes wide to the reality of God all around means you'll see God for who "He" really is. You ready for that? 'Cause God's probably a lot different than you expected. We expect what's comforting and comfortable, not what will rock our world. (But again, God sent you a Baby King ... who else woulda thunk it?!) A second part of seeing reality is actually seeing the reality of others. The shepherds coulda looked at that teenage mama and that blue-collar dad and seen themselves; they were just ordinary, low-rung folks, too.

There is great danger, though, in hearing that invitation as your own and daring to respond like the shepherds did. Those shepherds took a big risk in going to see what God had done and there will be risk for us, too. They were just doing what good shepherds do when ... who was going to mind the sheep when they decided to end the shift early and head into town? Did one get the shaft and have to stay behind? Perhaps one was glad to be a chicken for once and volunteer to hold down the fort, I mean the flock, while the others took a peek. At any rate, they risked the safety of their flock and their reputation, at the very least. How would YOU explain the angels singing to you about a Baby born to be King and to save the world from sin? They decided that the Holy Child was more important than their sheep. At some point in our journey, you and I will have to set aside what is very important to be able to respond to God. The folks who love us the most may be the ones who give us the most grief. It's a risk.

The second risk ... you're gonna have to do something with what you see and hear. Of God and of other people. When we're courageous enough to come and see, that unfolding story somehow draws us in ... and it's our story. When you see people hungry in your community, until you help get food in their bellies you'll choke every time you sit down to more than plenty. The same is true for every other reality that you might peer into just 'cause you're looking for God.

I'm so very grateful for the shepherds that have come alongside me to get me through the wilderness and safe to a new pasture or paddock. If you've been one ... I love you. Now, what I want to have the courage to do and be is a shepherd. But, not just any shepherd. I want to be the kind that can leave the field behind when I hear God singing to me (even if just for a moment or two) to dare go and see. Go with me?