Yesterday a group from Wellspring marched in the Christmas parade. We printed 1,500 invite cards, and, true to form, I wasn’t a good steward of mine—I handed them out to everyone in sight. We actually ran out a third of the way through. But that is a picture of church life: it is always a team effort. Ministry happens when the whole body works together.
Paul reminds us that every Christian has a gift and a role. Pastors have their responsibilities, yes, but the church is never built on the work of one person. When God called me into local church leadership, I remember thinking, “Lord, I am going to need help.” And I looked out at Wellspring and thought… well, I will save the joke. The truth is: this church is full of gifted people who step up again and again.
Over the past week, our church family experienced two losses: Harry Easley and Jane Tubb. I remember when this building was just dust and concrete. Harry—already using a walker—came to see it. He must have been nearly ninety. That kind of faithfulness leaves a mark. His service is next Sunday. People like Harry remind me of the kind of faith I hope to have at that age, if the Lord grants me that many years.
Yet even in grief, God continues to give life. Next week, twelve new members will be joining the church and six people will be baptized. None of them are infants. That alone is enough to fill a pastor’s heart with hope.
And then there is the behind-the-scenes ministry that many never see. Ann White has carried so much of our congregational care—visits, phone calls, checking on the sick, coordinating needs. Congregational care is often the area where I feel weakest. I can teach and preach, but Ann is the one who quietly keeps track of everyone hurting or missing or in need of prayer. She never seeks attention. She does not receive a paycheck. She simply serves. Ann, thank you. Truly.
Our church family enjoys being together. I realized it again at the Heart-to-Heart Christmas party. I genuinely like the people in that room. I enjoy their company. Many pastors cannot say that. And that sense of family is a gift from God.
But gifts can also tempt us.
Churches that enjoy one another can forget their mission. We can become comfortable. We can begin to function like a social club—a place where our friends are, where we feel good, where we enjoy belonging.
But church is not a social club.
It is good and right that we enjoy fellowship, but we cannot lose sight of those outside our walls. In the Bible Belt especially, where persecution is low and comfort is high, churches easily drift toward inwardness. People start choosing churches based on where their friends are, rather than where God is calling them to worship, serve, and grow. That cannot be the defining criterion.
And this brings us to Luke’s Gospel and the shepherds.
Why did God send the angels to shepherds?
Why was the first announcement of the Messiah given to the lowly, the stinky, the overlooked?
He did not go to King Herod.
He did not go to Caesar.
He did not go to the high priests of the Sanhedrin.
He did not go to political or religious elites.
He went to shepherds in a field.
Three reasons stand out.
1. The Gospel Is for the Outsider
The shepherds were on the margins. Considered unclean, socially low, and often excluded, they stand as a reminder that the good news begins with those on the outside. If we enjoy each other so much that we forget the broken, hurting, lonely, and lost, we miss the heart of Advent. Church is a refuge for the broken, not a retreat for the comfortable.
And we do not just go outward—we must also go inward. Every one of us has “stinky” parts: wounds, attitudes, habits, and patterns that Jesus wants to heal. Advent is not just hot cocoa and Christmas lights. It is the arrival of a Savior who comes to redeem the broken places inside us.
2. The Shepherds Remind Us of David and God’s Way
Jesus was born in Bethlehem, the city of David. And David was a shepherd. Before David became king, Israel had Saul—the tall, handsome, wealthy, impressive leader whom everyone expected to succeed. He was the worldly definition of a strong king, and he was a failure.
God’s way is different.
He chooses leaders out of obscurity. David was not even invited into the room when Samuel came to anoint the next king. His own father did not see potential in him. But God did.
This is how God works. He raises the humble. He uses the unexpected. He calls ordinary people—yes, people like us—to lead, disciple, and influence others for the kingdom. Christianity is not a spectator sport. If you follow Jesus, you are called to make disciples.
3. The Shepherds’ Job Was About to End
This is the part that struck me only recently.
Shepherds raised lambs for sacrifice. Their entire livelihood depended on the ongoing need for sin offerings.
But once the Lamb of God arrived, their old job of supplying lambs would be over.
From now on, when someone came asking for a lamb for sacrifice, the shepherd could say, “You do not need one. The Lamb of God has come.”
This is the heart of Advent.
Jesus came so we could finally let go of guilt, shame, and all the sacrifices we try to offer for our failures—whether through self-punishment or punishing others. The shepherds stand at the doorway between the old world of sacrifice and the new world of grace.
“You don’t need that anymore,” they tell us.
“It is over. Provision has been made.”
The Peace of the Lamb
Advent peace is not merely the absence of conflict. It is the deep assurance that our sins are forgiven. The Lamb of God has taken away the sin of the world.
So let me say it plainly:
Let it go.
Let the guilt go.
Let the shame go.
Let the resentment go.
Let the past go.
Jesus bore the penalty. You do not need to keep penalizing yourself—or others. He came to bring reconciliation: with God, with neighbor, and with our own selves.
At the communion table, we embody that peace. We share the reconciliation meal. We meet Christ in broken bread and poured-out cup. We remember that forgiveness is not a theory but a gift to be received.
So come to the table.
Bring your stinky places.
Bring your wounds, your burdens, your “inner shepherd.”
Let the Lamb of God speak peace over you.
He has come.
And everything changes.
