And a Child Shall Lead Them

David Orendorff · Luke 3:1-6 · December 10, 2006

In the Bible God uses both King and slave for salvation. And more often than not, it is the slave, the child, even the baby that saves. It is Biblical irony that it is little David and not the mighty warriors of Israel, who slays Goliath. And it is the murderer Moses and not the leaders of the Hebrews that God chooses to set his people free of Pharaoh.

Today’s passage falls into this same strange pattern. The people of Israel, long suffering under Roman occupation and the oppression of the rich, look for relief, for salvation, to the Emperor Tiberius, or perhaps his agent in Judea, the governor Pontius Pilate, or maybe even the King of Israel Herod or his brother Philip who ruled the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias. And if not these men of political power then they might look to those of religious authority, the high priest Annas and then Caiaphas, for help.

Today we have the same hope for salvation. We hope it will be the President of the United States and our elected leaders that will save us from terrorism, educational decay and economic trials. Or we turn to our church leaders, bishops and popes, and demand that they somehow change the world for our safety and salvation.

But more often than not, God has a different kind of plan for us. God turns to a dirty, discredited, madmen in the wilderness for the words of salvation from Isaiah:

The voice of one crying in the wilderness;
Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth;
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.

We know, of course, that John is speaking of Jesus, another surprise savior for the world. John is speaking of a baby who has been born to a mother who became pregnant while unwed and born in a cave dug in the side of a hill. John points away from kings and priests, away from persons of authority and power, and to a child of insignificant origin who will be the most significant person of the world.

As we prepare for Christmas, I invite us to remember God's ironic salvation, to remember that while we look for salvation from the big folks, God is working a miracle in the babies. Again and again we are reminded of what is truly important and truly wonderful in life, we are reminded of our salvation in the small things by the small ones of our world.

For example: A group of students were asked to list what they thought were the present “Seven Wonders of the World.” Though there were some disagreements, the following received the most votes:

Egypt’s Great Pyramids
Taj Mahal
Grand Canyon
Panama Canal
Empire State Building
St. Peter’s Basilica
China’s Great Wall

While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one quiet student hadn't turned in her paper yet. So she asked the girl if she was having trouble with her list. The girl replied, “Yes, a little I couldn't quite make up my mind because there were so many.” The teacher said, “Well, tell us what you have, and maybe we can help.” The girl hesitated, then read, “I think the ‘Seven Wonders of the World’ are:

to see
to hear
to touch
to taste
to feel
to laugh
and to love”

The room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. The things we over look as simple, ordinary and take for granted are truly wondrous! Our salvation is not in the Pyramids, but in our simple God given senses, our laughter and our love.

God comes in children to teach us that it is not presidents, Supreme Court justices, or priests that save us. It is the simple love of children which saves our souls forever.

Here is another example of God’s ironic salvation. Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They found out that the new baby was going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in mommy's tummy. He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even met her. The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. In time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five minutes, every three; every minute. But serious complications arose during delivery and Karen found herself in hours of labor. Would a C-section be required?

Finally, after a long struggle, Michael's little sister was born. But she was in very serious condition. With a siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee. The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The pediatrician had to tell the parents there is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst. Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot. They had fixed up a special room in their house for their new baby, but now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral. Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister. I want to sing to her, he kept saying.

Week two in intensive care looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over. Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. Karen decided to take Michael, whether they liked it or not. If he didn't see his sister right then, he may never see her alive. She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him in to ICU. He looked like a walking laundry basket.

The head nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed, “Get that kid out of here now. No children are allowed.”

The mother rose up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line. “He is not leaving until he sings to his sister,” she stated. Then Karen towed Michael to his sister's bed side. He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing.

In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when skies are gray.” Instantly, the baby girl seemed to respond. The pulse rate began to calm down and become steady. “Keep on singing, Michael,” encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes.

“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away.” As Michael sang to his sister, the baby's ragged, strained breathing became as smooth as a kitten's purr.

“Keep on singing, sweetheart.”

“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms.” Michael's little sister began to relax and rest, a healing rest, seemed to sweep over her. “Keep on singing, Michael.” Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't take my sunshine away.”

The next, day the very next day, the little girl was well enough to go home. Woman's Day Magazine called it The Miracle of a Brother's Song. The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God's love.

Was the head nurse important to the little girl’s survival? Of course she was, and so were the doctors, and the love of the mother and the father. But what tipped the scale, what always tips the scale to the salvation of God, is the pure love of a child. It is by child-like love, a caring compassion, a simple sense of what is right, a determined confidence in miracle, that children of all ages are the salvation of the world.

When we sing our love to each other and the world, every King, every President, every Pope and Bishop, every corporate executive and every authority on earth, is subject to God's salvation. So, my friends, with John the Baptizer, that strange man in the wilderness, and with little Michael, we sing the wonders of the world and God's miracle becomes our Christmas.

Shalom and Amen.