Emmanuel: God With Us 

Luke 2:8-14—Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: “Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men! That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown. 

All is the same, nothing is new, but the Lord never changes. His promises are always true. Since babel and the fall, since the apple, we have been trying to be like God in every aspect, yet that is our flaw. It may look like idol worship, but why worship an idol? To serve yourself or to sit in the comfort of the illusion, everything is an attempt to climb up. Most real growth happens in silence. No applause. No crowd. And that can sting, not because you need ego strokes, but because effort naturally expects witness. When there’s none, it feels like it didn’t count. The world doesn’t reward formation. It rewards outcomes it can consume. Grades don’t trend on Instagram. Quiet discipline doesn’t entertain. Inner stabilization doesn’t signal status. It’s easy then to be caught in reflexive cognition learning that feeds on itself. learning about learning, about humility, about pride, about ladders, about holes. God’s love does not require awareness. The child, the simple, the broken, and the unreflective are fully loved. Salvation is a cry upward, not a climb. But then the thought comes, “If effort equals autonomy, I don’t want autonomy.” Yet, that’s only true inside modern individualism. effort is not for self-sovereignty. You don’t work to prove yourself or to control your life; you work to serve God and others. True effort is about fulfilling the responsibilities God places before you, trusting Him to guide and reward, rather than trying to “climb” to autonomy or self-mastery. It’s obedience, not self-sovereignty, that gives meaning. Knowledge follows obedience, not the other way around.

Rights are an illusion; responsibilities generate visible “rights” for others. The whole point is that we are able to work for the Lord now. That is the reward. Autonomy promises infinite choice, but infinite choice produces decision paralysis, not freedom. If you are hangry in a town of 500 restaurants on each block, you starve or argue by the time an unsatisfactory choice is made. Rejection alone does not fill the gap either. Insight is not the enemy. Self-referential insight is. Christian tradition never killed thought; it bound it. The danger is not thinking.  The danger is thinking without obedience already assigned. The question is not “Should I stop thinking?” But: “What thinking is permitted after obedience is fixed?” Thinking is to serve, not rule. Impact is not meant to be visible to the steward, only to the owner. When visibility is removed and assignment is unclear, the mind revolts. Yet, God does not ask you to understand your life completely, only to carry what has been placed in your hands today. You should not be continuing to treat meaning as something to be discovered when it has already been received. 

That’s not anti-intellectual. That’s disciplined intellect. Though it may feel like a loss since you’re surrendering the last illusion of control: the feeling that understanding precedes obedience. But Jesus never promised that. He promised rescue, then sending. You’ve been rescued.  Now you’re lingering at the shoreline, asking why the boat exists. You are not confused about God. You are not confused about responsibility. You are not confused about pride. You are late to action because you are loyal to accuracy. But faithfulness does not require optimal clarity, only continued consent. Paul’s contentment was not emotional peace and not constant clarity. It was stability of obedience regardless of circumstance. “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” “By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going.”

When Paul says, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances…” the key word is “learned.”  Not realized. Not concluded. Not reasoned into. Hunger doesn’t invalidate calling Abundance doesn’t prove blessing. Isolation doesn’t negate faithfulness. Obedience does not require visible fruit. His contentment came from the sure fact that nobody could ever diminish or take his work away from him no matter what. That kind of contentment feels quiet, even flat at times. But it is unshakeable. We do not live by feelings. We are not our feelings or our thoughts. Contentment like Paul’s does not come from seeing fruit, understanding your role, feeling useful, or believing you’re “worth it.” It comes from the settled reality, “I am doing what was given to me to do today, and that is enough.”

God does not promise you a sense of impact, only that obedience is never wasted. Paul did not wake up every morning with a fresh cosmic mission download. Paul’s certainty did not come from clarity about outcomes, locations, or impact. It came from something much simpler and more severe. Paul knew His identity was settled: “Paul, a servant (slave) of Christ Jesus…” Before Apostle.  Before missionary.  Before church planter. Servant of Christ.  He did not decide his worth, he did not decide his direction, and he did not decide when his work “counted.”  Identity was fixed. So daily confusion didn’t threaten meaning. Paul’s category of work never changed. Witness to Christ in word and life wherever he was placed. Not “plant churches successfully.”  Not “be understood.” Not “avoid prison.” Not “feel effective” Just speak truth when permitted, live faithfully when constrained, and endure when silenced. The form changed daily. The assignment did not and has not even for us. Paul did not ask, “What should I be doing right now?” He asked, “What does faithfulness look like here?” He did not choose his arena. He accepted it. That’s how he knew. Your assignment is not a role. It is not a career. It is not a project. It is not a calling you have to discover. Your unlosable assignment is this: To be faithful to Christ in the circumstances you did not choose, using the capacities you did not create, for the good of others, without requiring visibility or justification. 

What the New Testament proclaims openly, the Old Testament testifies to relentlessly: that God would come down, not be reached; that His kingship would arrive clothed in humility; and that salvation would not be achieved by human ascent but by divine intervention. The Law itself bears witness to this truth. When Israel receives the Law at Sinai (Exodus 19–20), God descends in fire, cloud, and thunder. Yet even then, the people cannot endure His presence. The Law reveals God’s holiness but also humanity’s inability. Sinai proves that revelation alone cannot save. The Law can command, but it cannot restore. It points forward to the day when God will no longer write His will on stone tablets outside His people but place it within them. The Law anticipates the need for Emmanuel. The prophets make this explicit. Isaiah 7:14 declares, “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” This is not merely a sign of birth but of mode. God with us, not God above us, not God reached by wisdom or power, but God present. Isaiah continues this theme in Isaiah 9, where the child who is born is also called “Mighty God” and “Prince of Peace.” Kingship arrives not through conquest but through infancy.  The Psalms also testify to a coming King whose reign defies earthly categories. Psalm 22 begins with abandonment and ends in global worship. Psalm 110 declares a king who is also a priest, something the old order could never sustain. Isaiah 40 proclaims, “Behold your God!” and immediately describes Him not only as a sovereign ruler but also as a shepherd who gathers lambs in His arms. Zechariah 9:9 announces a king who comes “humble and mounted on a donkey.” These texts anticipate a ruler who reconciles heaven and earth not by force but by mediation. Revelation is not wasted on those who will weaponize it. The angels are not sent to provoke debate among men already sharpening knives. They are sent to shepherds, men without institutional power, without political leverage, without a kingdom to lose. Shepherds have no throne to defend, no system to preserve. This message did not come to the rulers of the time; they were too busy trying to kill Jesus because, though they saw it as foolish, the fools felt the power enough to be threatened. The shepherds hear and go. Herod hears and hunts. 2000 years ago Jesus Christ entered this world in a manger and laid down His life in accordance with the scriptures, which rendered us impenetrable to renewed hostilities and gave to us an assured opportunity to reconstruct our shattered order and to work out in peace a new life lived out through our church relations. 

The Bible says, “The word of the cross is foolishness to those perishing but is the power of God to us who are being saved to the world.” The Nativity is still mockable, but to believers it makes perfect sense; Christ had to come to a manger, that is the whole point. He did not come to save kingdoms but to save souls and build a kingdom. For since the apple and babel we have tried to reach him, but we are one body and Christ is the head. We cannot reach God by any means, so Christ came to us; hence, Merry Christmas. The cross made us so we can work with God, but God is still king; he is not just the prince of peace as if he inherited it but is peace and created the source of all peace, the all-creator of peace. Peace and goodwill toward men; the living tree has come to earth. Hasn’t God made the world’s wisdom foolish? For since, in God’s wisdom, the world did not know God through wisdom, God was pleased to save those who believe through the foolishness of what is preached. For the Jews ask for signs and the Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles. Yet to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God, because God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength. 1 Corinthians 1:18-25

This is why obedience precedes understanding in the kingdom of God. The wisdom of God does not ask permission from human clarity. “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” To linger at the shoreline, demanding to understand the boat before boarding it, is to misunderstand rescue itself. The gospel does not begin with explanation but with proclamation. Christ came. Christ died. Christ reigns. Merry Christmas, not because we reached God, but because the King came to us.

What churches often call “doubt” is usually theological doubt, questions like, Does God exist? Is He good? Is the gospel true? That is the kind of doubt pastors typically have in mind when they reassure people, “It’s okay to doubt.” But biblically speaking, that is not the struggle most faithful, serious believers are actually experiencing. Scripture recognizes a very different kind of hesitation, and it does not name it doubt at all. The men Scripture presents as hesitant before God, like Moses, Jeremiah, Gideon, Isaiah, and Peter, never doubt God’s existence, goodness, or authority. They do not question whether God is real or trustworthy. Instead, they question themselves. Moses asks who he is to go. Jeremiah objects that he is too young. Gideon points to the weakness of his clan. Isaiah collapses under his own uncleanness. Peter begs Jesus to depart because of his sin. None of these men doubt God. They doubt their legitimacy, their permission, their right to act, and their place in the story. What is striking is how God responds. He never reassures them of their worth. He never tells them they are enough. He reassures them only of His presence and His command. “I will be with you.” “I have chosen you.” “Go.” Scripture does not diagnose their hesitation as emotional fragility or belief deficiency. It treats it as something that must be interrupted by obedience. Modern sermons often assume the problem is a lack of belief, so they respond with emotional reassurance, psychological normalization, and phrases like “God understands your questions.” But our problem is often not emotional weakness. It is excessive moral seriousness. We are not asking whether God is real. We are really asking whether we are permitted to act if we are not sure we matter. That is not unbelief; it is self-scrutiny elevated beyond its jurisdiction. Scripture never treats this kind of self-doubt with reassurance. It treats it with command. When Moses objects, God does not say, “You’re enough.” He says, “Go.” When Jeremiah protests, God does not validate his feelings. He says, “Do not say, ‘I am only a youth.’ You shall go to all to whom I send you.” When Peter collapses in unworthiness, Jesus does not comfort him. He says, “Follow Me.” That is not harshness. It is mercy. Reassurance would trap a person inside themselves. Command liberates them from themselves. Christianity does not celebrate doubt. What it honors is faithfulness under obscurity, obedience without certainty, and trust without self-confidence. Modern preaching softens this, but the biblical correction is not “it’s okay to doubt.” It is, “You are not authorized to disqualify yourself.”

It is true that some level of theology is required to be saved, but theology does not save. Salvation is an act of God received by faith, not earned by knowledge. Understanding God’s nature and doctrine matters; it guards against deception, but perfect understanding has never been the condition for acceptance. Knowledge is good, but love and obedience are what matter. When someone is told “doubt is okay,” the struggle is misdiagnosed. When they are not doubting God, they are doubting their role, their worth, and their placement. Telling you “doubt is okay” is like saying, “It’s fine to distrust your compass when you’re already lost in a storm.” Salvation comes through trust and surrender, not intellectual resolution. Understanding grows as you obey, not as you debate. Overthinking theology or waiting for perfect clarity is not faith; it is often a subtle form of self-protection that delays obedience. Scripture consistently shows that obedience precedes insight. You do not need to fully understand your assignment to step into it. You step, and understanding follows, only sometimes. Scripture never tells the confused or inadequate to distrust God’s direction. It tells them to follow Him even when they feel weak, unworthy, or uncertain. The posture, then, is simple but demanding: I am God’s servant today. My role is to obey, not to justify myself or overanalyze my worth. When opportunities arise, I do not immediately judge, debate, or strategize. I ask one question: Is this within my assignment to act? If yes, I act as faithfully as I can. If no, I wait quietly. Patience is not passivity. It is recognition of limits until God sends.

Christmas is the season when all of this becomes visible in ordinary life. People are tired, distracted, financially strained, emotionally tender, and spiritually thin. We gather, we decorate, we remember better years, and we grieve quieter losses. And in the middle of it all, the world keeps insisting that joy must be justified, that peace must be earned by circumstances lining up just right. But Christmas contradicts that logic entirely. Joy enters the world not when things are resolved, but when God arrives. This is why A Christmas Carol still resonates. Scrooge is not transformed because his circumstances improve or his questions are answered. He is transformed because he is confronted with reality, with truth, and with mercy, and he responds. He does not debate the ghosts. He does not ask for more data. He acts. He repents. He wakes up and lives differently. His joy is not sentimental; it is obedient. It moves. It gives. It overflows. That is a deeply Christian pattern, even if Dickens never preaches it directly. This is what the season calls us back to. Not endless introspection. Not self-disqualification. Not paralysis disguised as discernment. Christmas announces that God has acted. The King has come. The living tree has entered the world. The rescue has begun. Our role is not to manage the meaning of it but to receive it and respond. 

We have joy because God has kept His word. Christmas is not a new idea; it is the fulfillment of an ancient promise. “For all the promises of God find their Yes in Him” (2 Corinthians 1:20). The birth of Christ is the proof that God does not abandon what He has spoken. Centuries of prophecy, waiting, exile, silence, and longing converge in a child born at the right time. Joy is warranted because God is faithful, even when history seems slow or hostile. It does not matter the circumstance; Christ is our joy! We have joy because God has drawn near. “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Isaiah 9:2). Christmas declares that darkness is no longer total, and distance is no longer final. Emmanuel, God with us, is not a metaphor. It is the end of isolation. The joy of Christmas rests in the truth that God has not remained distant or untouchable. He has entered our weakness, our poverty, and our suffering and sanctified them by His presence. We have joy because peace has been established, not negotiated. Christ does not come to offer temporary relief or emotional calm. He comes to reconcile heaven and earth. We have joy because our obedience now has meaning. We are no longer acting into uncertainty but responding to a finished declaration. Because of Christmas, obedience is no longer an attempt to reach God; it is a response to being found by Him.

So rejoice not because life is easy, but because God is present. Rejoice not because you understand everything, but because salvation has been given. Rejoice not because the world is at peace, but because Christ is King. Merry Christmas, and as Tiny Tim says, God bless us, Everyone! 

𝕯𝕰𝖀𝕾 𝖁𝖀𝕷𝕿 . 𝕹𝖔 𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊, 𝖓𝖔 𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍, 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖒𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊’𝖘 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖗𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍. 𝕵𝖊𝖘𝖚𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖞!!!!

𝕭𝕰𝕹 𝕬𝕹𝕿𝕳𝕺𝕹𝖄 𝕾𝕴𝕸𝕺𝕹

Writing as 𝖂𝕴𝕷𝕷 𝕱𝕺𝕽𝕲𝕰

𝕻𝕴𝕷𝕲𝕽𝕴𝕄 𝕻𝕺𝕹𝕯𝕰𝕽𝕴𝕹𝕲𝕾 𝕸𝕴𝕹𝕴𝕾𝕿𝕽𝖄