When God Speaks to the Overlooked
For the past month, we’ve been paying close attention to the way God moves. Not loudly. Not randomly. And rarely the way we expect. In this season of Advent, we’ve watched God send angels—heavenly messengers—into ordinary moments with extraordinary words. Every visitation carried a message. And every message revealed something about the kind of God we serve.
It began in silence. Luke tells us that Zechariah and Elizabeth were “righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord” (Luke 1:6). And yet they were still waiting. Still praying. Still wondering if God had forgotten them. Four hundred years had passed since God last spoke to His people, and it must have felt like heaven had gone quiet.
Then God broke the silence. In the quiet of the temple, an angel appeared and declared that Elizabeth would conceive and bear a son. His name would be John. Not the Messiah—but the one who would prepare the way. When Zechariah struggled to believe it, the angel reminded him that God had been moving all along—even when it didn’t feel like it.
Then God moved again. This time not to a priest—but to a teenage girl in a forgotten town called Nazareth. Mary wasn’t powerful. She wasn’t prominent. But she was chosen. The angel told her she would conceive and give birth—not by man, but by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Mary asked a reasonable question. And then she offered an unreasonable surrender:
“Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).
Next came Joseph. Matthew tells us he was “a just man” (Matthew 1:19). Quiet. Righteous. Steady. He was asked to obey God when obedience would cost him his reputation, his plans, and his future. And without recorded protest, Joseph obeyed.
And then—on the final Sunday before Christmas—God sent one more visitation. This time, He didn’t send an angel to someone faithful, favored, or respected. He sent an angel to shepherds. Luke records it simply:
“And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night” (Luke 2:8).
That single sentence tells us more than we realize. God didn’t show up in a palace. He didn’t show up in a temple. He didn’t show up in a city. He showed up in a field. The same field as the night before. The same work. The same routine. Nothing impressive. Nothing strategic. Just sheep and dirt and darkness. God loves to interrupt the ordinary.
And He didn’t come during the day. He came at night—when things were quiet, hidden, and overlooked. God has always been comfortable working in the shadows.
Then there were the men themselves. Shepherds were poor. Marginalized. Religiously unclean. They lived outdoors, smelled of animals, and were barred from worship in the temple. Signs outside the gates warned that shepherds were not allowed inside. They were considered unreliable and untrustworthy. Shepherds couldn’t testify in court. Their word didn’t matter. They were known as wild men—rough, morally suspect, often alone. No one aspired to be a shepherd. You became one because life left you with no better option.
And these are the men God chose. Not Caesar. Not Herod. Not a priest or a rabbi. God came to the people the world overlooked. Why? Because the God of the gospel notices the unnoticed. Because He pursues the least of these. Because He doesn’t wait for sinners to clean themselves up—He goes looking for them.
When the angel appeared, the shepherds were terrified. Luke says, “The glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear” (Luke 2:9). And they should have been. God is holy. They were not.
But then the angel spoke words that changed everything:
“Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people” (Luke 2:10).
Not advice. Not instruction. Good news. The word gospel literally means an announcement of victory. In the ancient world, it was the word used when a messenger ran into a village declaring the battle was over and the enemy had been defeated. That’s what Christmas is.
Christianity isn’t about trying harder. It isn’t about moral improvement or spiritual effort. It’s about surrendering to the One who has already won.
“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ, the Lord” (Luke 2:11).
A Savior—you need rescuing. A Christ—God keeps His promises. A Lord—He doesn’t just save you; He reigns. And because of Him, joy enters places circumstances never could.
The shepherds didn’t get new jobs. They didn’t get promotions or easier lives. They went back to the same field. But they went back changed. Happiness depends on circumstances. Joy depends on a Person.
And with joy came peace. Not the peace of calm feelings or better situations—but peace with God. Paul later writes, “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 5:1). Because Jesus lived the life we could not live and died the death we deserved to die, we are no longer enemies. We are reconciled. Adopted. Secure.
When the angels finished speaking, the shepherds didn’t debate. They didn’t delay. “They went with haste” (Luke 2:16). They went. They saw. They spoke. “When they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child” (Luke 2:17). They told everyone.
And after they witnessed, they worshiped: “The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen” (Luke 2:20). Because worship always flows out of witness.
What This Means for Us
This story isn’t just about what God did then. It’s about how God still works now. God still interrupts ordinary lives. God still works in hidden places. God still pursues people the world overlooks. And God still entrusts the greatest news in history to ordinary men and women.
The gospel is not private information. It is public truth. A silent, private Christianity is not an option for a true follower of Jesus. If you had the cure for cancer, you wouldn’t hide it. And God hasn’t given us a cure for cancer—He has given us a cure for death.
The message is clear. It is personal. And it is urgent. The shepherds didn’t keep it to themselves. Now the question is simple: Will we?
Next Steps
- Identify one person. There is someone in your life right now—family member, coworker, neighbor, friend—who needs to hear the good news of Jesus. No one is in your life by accident.
- Pray for courage. Ask God to give you boldness, not cleverness. Faithfulness, not perfection.
- Speak the gospel clearly. Not church attendance. Not morality. Not religion. A Savior has come. His name is Jesus.
- Live sent. Like the shepherds, go back to your field—but go back changed. Because when you’ve seen Jesus, the only faithful response is to tell the world.