Wrapped in Bands of Cloth and Lying in a Manger
The Ordinary Made Extraordinary
Luke 2:1-20
Rev. Tim Callow
Preached Sun. Dec. 24th, 2025
There were shepherds out in the fields keeping watch over their flock on that cold Christmas Eve. But for them that night was not much different than any other night. It was cold. It was tiresome. It was long. They were left with little to do but chew the fat and keep watch. They were in the inevitable position of trying to stay awake by counting sheep. But this was the life they had signed up for. Most of their life was spent sitting, watching, walking along. They lived their lives letting the world pass on by.
Perhaps we’ve felt as listless as a shepherd. Every day seems like any other day. We feel we are without purpose or direction. We feel the world passing us by.
But this night would not be like any other night. This night would never happen again. It was on this night that the firmament tore open and heaven met earth. It was on this night, in this region, that the shepherds looked overhead as the night became as day and the whole heavenly army appeared before them. The glory of the Lord shone around them. They were, needless to say, terrified. They were gazing at things only Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Isaiah, had any inkling of.
And yet it was to these ordinary shepherds going about their ordinary and monotonous work that God had chosen to deliver the extraordinary good news. “Do not be afraid, for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” The messiah. The one who is to deliver Israel from their captivity and bondage. The King of the Jews who will bring about the new golden age. But in the angel’s message I detect that even more is said even if it was not understood. This is not just messiah, but this is “the messiah, the Lord.” The eternal is born. The King of Kings. The creator of the universe. God is with us.
The angel then offers them a sign, so they may know where to find this child. “This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” I want to pause here. How odd.
The one before whom all Kings will bow. The one who touches the mountains and they smoke. The one who makes the hills to skip like rams. The one who makes the whirlwind his chariot. This one. The almighty. The Lord. Is to be found as a child? A tiny infant? Wrapped in swaddling cloths? The one who the world cannot contain is to be contained in the arms of his mother? The one who stretched out the sky like a curtain is to be wrapped up in bands of cloth?
But more than that, even stranger, this child is to be found in a feeding trough? In a manger?
And yet we had already heard how this could be. Caesar Augustus had declared a registration, requiring Mary and Joseph to make their way to Bethlehem. When they got there they had no place to lay their head. All that was available was a single stable. And when Mary, great with child, gave birth, all that was available for a crib was a feeding trough.
The King of Kings would not be born in a fine house or in a glorious city. The King of Kings would be found in a smelly stable. Likely a cave in those days. The trough likely made of stone or mud and placed along the wall. The stable would have been one of many in the city of David.
When the angels had finished singing their song, “glory to God in the highest and on earth peace among those on who his favor rests,” they had departed. And that moment ended as quickly as it began. The night sky was knit back together and the stars twinkled and danced as they always did. Having heard the news from the angels the Shepherds were full of joy and resolved to find the child they were told was the messiah.
Imagine the sight, then, when the shepherds make their way out of the fields with a train of sheep. It is late so there is no one out and about. There’s no nightlife in the city of David. But perhaps if someone were having trouble sleeping they would have seen the shepherds and their sheep walking down the streets and byways of the little town of Bethlehem. As they do they peer into every stable, every nook and cranny. They spy every feeding trough. Looking for the sign that had been promised. The child, wrapped in bands of cloth, and lying in a manger.
Those who seek find. And to those who knock the door will be open to them. And so after diligently searching the town this strange band finally finds what they are looking for. All of us can imagine the moment. But perhaps we over sentimentalize what it is the shepherds saw. There, among the hay and the grain, surrounded by mud and manure, was the child in a trough being watched and cared for by two overworked and stressed out parents. There was no halo. There was no angel on the roof. There were no wise men bearing gifts or drummers. There was the child, like any other child, different only by the unfortunate circumstance of his birth.
And they worshiped him.
This evening let us remember the story of the shepherds. Let us remember their world turned upside down that led them to turn a town upside down looking for a seemingly ordinary child. Let us remember the monotonous night that became extraordinary. Let us remember the miracle of the birth that would have escaped any uninformed observer.
God has not abandoned us. As God acted two millennia ago so God acts now. But it would be like with those shepherds. A message, an insight, shines through the darkness of our ordinary lives leading us to see the world in a new way. That we might find ourselves among the dirty stables of the world and see hope.
We are the people who put our hope in this child. Who would later go on to become a great teacher, and healer, and prophet. Who would be put to death by the authorities. Who would not let death have the final say but would rise from the dead. Who lives now forevermore. And may still be seen by those who have the eyes to see him.