Introduction:

Tonight, I’d like to pose a question that might sound odd, considering why we’re all here. Imagine, just for a moment, that you had never heard the Christmas story, that you knew nothing of Jesus Christ or the good news He brings. All you knew is that tonight, the very Son of God would enter our world. What would you expect to see? How would He appear? In what majestic way would He arrive?

Now, with that image in your mind, ask yourself: would you be disappointed if you discovered nothing more than a baby, wrapped in simple cloths and resting in a manger?

The truth is, every one of us carries expectations about how life should go, how people ought to behave, and even how God Himself should show up. And when those expectations aren’t met, it’s easy to feel discouraged or disillusioned. Perhaps you can recall a childhood Christmas when you were certain you’d receive that one magnificent gift you’d set your heart on—only to wake up and find it wasn’t under the tree. Expectations come naturally, but they can misguide us. Sometimes they even blind us to the real gifts that surround us. Worst of all, they can shut our eyes to the quiet, often unexpected ways God is truly at work.

All through history, human beings have wrestled with God’s timing, His seeming silence, and what can feel like His hiddenness. We suppose that if God really loved us, He’d tear back the sky in unmistakable glory, washing away every doubt and silencing every question. But is that notion shaped by who God truly is, or by our limited, human point of view?

Let’s look again at the Christmas story. God entered our world in a way no one saw coming. He chose gentle humility over overwhelming force. By doing so, God turned our assumptions upside down, and revealed a love more astonishing than we ever imagined.

Let us read from the gospel of Luke chapter two:

Scripture Reading: 

Luke 2:1-20, ESV

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria.And all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and 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 among those with whom he is pleased!”

When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

Our Expectations  

We often arrive at questions of faith already convinced we know how a loving God ought to reveal Himself. We think that if He truly cared for us, He’d blaze forth in dazzling brilliance, erasing every shred of doubt. But let’s pause for a moment. Are these expectations really shaped by God’s own nature, or do they spring from our sinful human need for certainty rather than faith? The prophet Isaiah reminds us of God’s gentle correction: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways” (Isaiah 55:8, ESV). 

Think about this: if God’s glory were always overwhelming and obvious, would there be room for genuine faith? The Apostle Paul tells us plainly, “We walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7, ESV). This is the essence of trust. What if God withholds sweeping displays of power not to reject us, but to refine us? The philosopher Blaise Pascal said it well: “There is enough light for those who only desire to see, and enough darkness for those of a contrary disposition [to choose disbelief]” God gives us just enough light to walk by faith and just enough mystery to freely choose to keep walking.

Without realizing it we all draw assumptions about God, not based on how God reveals Himself in His Word, but based on whether He acts the way we think God should act. But if God has to act in the way you think He should, then who is truly God in your mind? This was the problem that the religious teachers and the skeptics of Jesus day struggled with. Jesus did not act as they thought a Messiah should act. The problem was not the scriptures or Jesus himself but their assumptions about the scriptures. Their problem with Jesus is that He was not the Messiah they had expected.  

Let's be honest for a moment. Have you ever misread a person? Have you ever assumed that you knew what someone was thinking or that you knew their motives, only to learn later on that you completely misread them and the situation. Think of the Christmas classic Home Alone, where young Kevin fears his neighbor, Old Man Marley. Only after setting aside his misguided notions does Kevin realize that Marley is a kind neighbor who could have helped him from the start. The truth is that we often misread each other’s hearts because we bring our own assumptions to the table before we have all the information. If our warped expectations can blind us to human love and understanding, how much more might our narrow ideas keep us from glimpsing God’s immeasurable compassion?

Now, let your thoughts wander to Bethlehem, where the Son of God took his first breath—yet it arrived not with pomp and conquest but in the simple cry of a newborn, laid in a manger. The heavens were rejoicing, but the only ones on earth who were allowed to glimpse the heavenly celebration were a few humble shepherds. Most of Bethlehem was asleep, unaware that the greatest miracle was unfolding in their midst.  “This will be a sign for you,” proclaimed the angel, “you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger” (Luke 2:12, ESV). The world longed for a triumphant Messiah. Instead, God offered us a quiet Child, beckoning us into awe and humility, turning our expectations inside out.

Some time after his birth, the Magi from the east would come to Bethlehem, guided by a star. They went first to the palace, thinning surely this is where the Messiah would be born. Only later would they find the Christ Child, not at a palace but in the humble home of a young mother and her newborn Son. Maybe God’s so-called hiddenness does not mean He is far away. Maybe God isn’t hidden at all—perhaps we’re simply searching in the wrong places. Maybe we are still looking in palaces instead of in mangers?

The One who once seemed distant—both to the prophets of old and to us today—is the same One who chose the manger over a throne, all for our sake. Yes, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29, ESV). This is the wondrous truth of our hidden yet ever-present God—beckoning us into a love more beautiful than we could ever imagine.

God’s Still Small Voice

If God had wished, He could have split the heavens asunder with the splendor of a thousand suns, dazzling every soul into awe. And yet, He chose a quieter way, arriving as a newborn child laid in a humble manger. Why? Because this is often how He speaks: not with a roar that shakes the earth, but with a gentle voice that stirs the conscience. As the Apostle Paul reminded the church in Rome, even those who have never opened a Bible can hear this gentle voice and show that God’s law is “written on their hearts” (Romans 2:14–15). This inner moral compass, this nudge toward what is right, is within all of us. Some may try to dismiss it as cultural reinforcement or some evolutionary trait we picked up somewhere between ape and man. I don’t believe that. I believe that more separates good from evil than mere popular opinion. I believe the conscience is the mark of our Creator, a quiet yet constant glow summoning us to choose goodness, if only we will listen.

Long before we assemble intellectual arguments or theological treatises, something inside us urges kindness, honesty, and love of what is good. Perhaps those who claim disbelief have, in truth, turned away from God’s gentle prompting long before constructing any case against Him. Scripture warns that we “suppress the truth” (Romans 1:18–19) and resist the still, small voice within us. Could it be that God is not hiding at all, but rather that we are refusing to heed His call?

Some will insist, “If only God would show me an unmistakable sign, then I would believe.” But history tells a different story. The Israelites watched the Red Sea part before their very eyes, only to lose faith soon after. People stood face-to-face with Jesus, who healed the sick and raised the dead, but many still walked away. As Jesus Himself cautioned, those who ignore what they already know will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead (Luke 16:31). Miracles, even grand ones, cannot soften a heart already set against the truth.

This sheds light on the mystery of Christmas. Søren Kierkegaard once wrote of a mighty king who loved a lowly maiden. Had the king arrived in all his regal power, he might have compelled her obedience, but not her heart. To truly win her love, he had to approach quietly and humbly. So it is with God: though He might have come cloaked in unapproachable glory, He instead came as a child in a stable. The Apostle Paul reminds us that even though Christ was fully God, He “emptied himself” to take the form of a servant (Philippians 2:6–8). This humility invites our free response; it does not force our compliance. God desires our genuine love, not coerced allegiance.

That is why the Nativity scene speaks volumes. The Lord of all creation appears vulnerable, inviting us to come near without fear. He does not overwhelm us with spectacle; He opens His arms in gentle humility. Rather than compelling faith through raw might, He honors our freedom and calls forth love. He is not a distant ruler but “Emmanuel” (God with us) drawing close so we can know and love Him sincerely.

Even so, conscience alone cannot heal our estrangement from God. While it alerts us to right and wrong, it cannot bridge the gulf between our brokenness and His holiness. For this, God offers us His Word, the Holy Scriptures, which reveal more of His nature than we could know through conscience alone. More importantly, God’s Word reveals His saving plan, the gospel. Like the star that guided the Magi, the Bible leads us beyond moral inklings to the Savior Himself. There we encounter the fullness of God’s character and the boundlessness of His mercy. We meet Jesus, who closes the gap between our failures and God’s perfection, offering us forgiveness and new life.

And how do these truths take root in our hearts? This is where the Holy Spirit works quietly yet powerfully, guiding us into all truth (John 16:13). The Spirit opens our eyes to see the beauty of Christ and transforms our moral awareness into living faith. Under the Spirit’s gentle influence, the little voice pointing us to what is right directs us ultimately to Christ and to our Heavenly Father.

So on this Christmas Eve, pause at the manger and marvel: the Lord of all is lying there, calling to you, not with threats, but with tender invitation. Listen to the stirrings of your conscience, open the Scriptures, and allow the Spirit to guide you. You may discover that the God who once seemed distant has been close all along, speaking softly, beckoning you home. There, in the humble cradle, heaven meets earth—not by overwhelming might, but by the power of love. The quiet whisper in your heart is Emmanuel Himself, inviting you to draw near and believe.

If all these thoughts leave you hesitant or uncertain, hear the gracious words of Jesus Himself: “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:7, ESV) He doesn’t say, “Find Me if you can,” but rather, “Seek Me, and you will find.” He promises to meet those who honestly search. That promise stands even if your faith feels small or fragile this evening. Consider praying, “God, if You’re real, show me. If You are there, help me find You.” That earnest cry is one God delights to answer. He has already shown His heart for us in the most astonishing way: “For God so loved the world, that He gave his only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16, ESV)

This is the good news of Christmas. The hidden God has not remained distant. He entered our story in Jesus Christ—God-with-us—living among us, teaching us, dying for our sins, and rising again that we might have new life. He has come not to crush us under His power but to rescue us with His love. The baby of Bethlehem became the Savior on the cross, and this Savior now offers forgiveness, hope, and eternal life to all who trust Him.

Whether you have walked with Christ for decades or are just peering into the mystery for the first time, the invitation stands firm and clear: Seek Him, and you will find Him. Come to the manger, and behold the King who made Himself small for you. Come to the cross, and receive the grace poured out for your salvation. Tonight, Jesus’ arms are open, ready to welcome you home. This, my friends, is the fullness of God’s love—the Christmas miracle we celebrate tonight and always. Amen.