We know about fear. We understand the dumb-struck amazement that comes over these ancient shepherds in the gospel story. Minding their own business and their gathered flocks; their drudgery interrupted by what seems like fire from heaven. Terrified – sore afraid – scared witless.

However you choose to describe it, we recognize the emotions that hold them captive. And the first gift of heaven is a word of assurance: Don’t be afraid!

God knows we are easily startled. God’s messengers spend most of their time telling people not to be afraid. And if that was the only message from heaven, it might be enough for us even now.

We talk about the beauty of Christmas – the sense of love and wonder. We sing (and preach) that this is only the beginning of a story full of love. We profess that this love will save us even from the grip of death. We move purposefully and resolutely from Jesus’ cradle to Jesus’ cross and empty tomb. But if the Christmas message stopped with the angel voices calling us to courage – “Don’t be afraid!” – that would be enough.

We are told that the shepherds run to town for confirmation – and when they see that small, struggling family – a baby, fresh as the dawn; a mother, exhausted and exultant; a father feeling like now there is finally some work for him to do as provider and protector – and when the shepherds see all that, just as the blazing messenger said it would be, their fear turns to rejoicing.

God has called them to a surprising place to see a remarkable thing, but until they see it, they can’t be sure. They trusted God just enough to go and see. After that, they become messengers themselves.

It is easy to be afraid. There is always something different of frightening that wants to stop us in our tracks. But sometimes, that strange thing that happens is a wake-up call. Sometimes (as they say) a change is as good as a rest. The good news of great joy is first delivered as news that shook the world – fire from the sky. The glory of the Lord is a terrible shock if you have grown accustomed to darkness. And the Christmas gospel is meant to excite our curiosity and open us to the idea that God would work differently in the world. It may not look (or sound) like the gospel we remember, but it is the gospel that is saving us.

We will rejoice this Christmas – we must! Because the darkness we’ve grown used to is even now being scattered by the light of God in Christ. All our rejoicing comes when we finally set our fears aside and trust that God is at work in the story of our lives. Calling us from our fears to be messengers of the good news of great joy for all people.