One such moment of transcendent wonder was the night of Jesus' birth which must have been etched forever in the minds of anonymous shepherds who first received the great and joyous news that their Savior was born in Bethlehem.

Glory shone around them, but the glory "of the Lord" is a singular grade of splendor not reproducible through an artist's brush or poet's pen.

Thomas Kindade, the popular "painter of light" has portrayed on canvass a Jerusalem sunset and a sunrise on the Sea of Galilee.  Another, called "The Good Shepherd's Cottage" is described in brochures as "utterly comfortable" and "radiant with light."  But should he attempt to capture the field of Bethlehem washed with the glory of the Lord, I imagine the shepherds would politely decline it as nothing near what they saw.  The splendor of the Lord was neither soft nor mellow.

Rather, this glory unnerved and overwhelmed the shepherds --- and, mind you, these were not men easily upset.  The Bethlehem shepherds were not delicate fellows.  They earned a masculine and wearing livelihood.  They weathered the elements.  They drove away predators.  Familiar with sling and staff they clearly were not shy or timorous men.

Yet the presence of one angel made them faint of heart, and the glory of the Lord filled them with fear.  Hard-edged men, tough, veteran fellows quaked with fear.  We usually don't dwell on this part of the Christmas story.  In fact, perhaps too hastily we picture ourselves in their sandals and think how enchanting to be visited by an angel.

It must be remembered however that any emissary from Almighty God is not someone to meet casually.  Yes, the angelic declaration is gladsome, but it is also sobering.  I've wondered about our ordinary greeting of "Merry Christmas."  To me the word merry suggests a cheery joviality of wassail and spiced punch. 

However, let us never be casual or cavalier with the awesomeness of Christmas.  The scene of trembling shepherds reminds us no matter how rugged, practical, or composed a man may think himself to be, no matter how sure of himself, unflappable, levelheaded, or cool, the bare glory of the Lord reduces all men to jelly.

One may be a roughneck, but coming face to face with the glory of the Lord is a seriously seismic moment.

For angels also.

Bear in mind, as this was no ordinary night for the shepherds, neither was it for the holy angels.  I don't think it adequate to call them "merry."  They were jubilant.  As sacred ambassadors with a message of overwhelming importance to the world, they delivered it in the exultant strains of an anthem echoing ever since, "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!"

There is nothing routine in this holy night for the angels.  Even though they had witnessed great events from creation to the giving of the Law, even though a cherub was stationed at the entrance of Paradise armed with a flaming sword, even though angels of light guided Hebrews in the desert, contended with Satan for the body of Moses, and fill prophetic literature nothing rivaled this night.  They had long sung His praises and adoring His holiness, but this night is the superlative hour. 

This night is God's magnum opus, a divine tour de force.  In Bethlehem is revealed an act of God so amazingly beautiful that it must bring forth the full choirs of angels to sing the heavenly song of peace and goodwill even to an audience of lowly shepherds.

Here was not jolly news to jingle about, but the universal Gospel.  Here were momentous tidings of great joy for which the world had waited thousands of years.  It was the glorious and magnificent information that told of God and His care and love for mankind.  The battle for the salvation of all people from sin and death would not come through legions of angels or by the ranks of tough and sturdy men.  It would be waged by a single baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.

The angels can only watch with awe.  The shepherds can only go and see this wonder.  Neither light-invested angels nor strapping men familiar with hard toil will be able to do what this newborn Christ will do.  In this child is God's ultimate commitment of Himself.  He has made His eternal Son a man-child.  He has made the Son of God not only lower than the angels but lower even than these earthy shepherds.

God has humbled Himself and exchanged His glory for the gore of a cross to come.  This too, no pen or paintbrush, no human word or wisdom can fathom.

It must be lived. 

And Jesus Christ lived it.  He lived our life.  He took on our nature and our burdens.  He lived our sorrows and assumed our sins.  And then He endured our death.  He came and completed what choirs of men and angels will sing about for all eternity -- the gladsome truth that the Savior of the world is Christ the Lord.