[Week 9] Good News: Everyone's Got Some. Only One Changed History. (Luke 2:10-11)

This week, we are memorizing Luke 2:10-11 (ESV).

• Check out my latest Scripture Memorization song here: Luke 2:10-11
• If you’re new here, see my introduction to this series here.

“But the angel said to them, ‘Don’t be afraid, for look, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people: Today in the city of David a Savior was born for you, who is the Messiah, the Lord.’” — Luke 2:10-11 (CSB)

“Good News” in a Land That Already Had Plenty

If you grew up in church, you’ve heard these words a hundred times. Christmas Eve services, Christmas plays, greeting cards. They’ve become so familiar that we almost don’t hear them anymore. But these two verses are far more provocative than we give them credit for.

The Greek word the angel uses for “good news” is euangelizomai (εὐαγγελίζομαι). This was not a church word. It was a political word. In the first-century Roman world, euangelion was the official term for imperial proclamations, announcements of military victories, and the birth of rulers.

And Rome had already used it extensively.

In 1899, archaeologists discovered an inscription in the ancient city of Priene in modern-day Turkey, dating to about 9 BCE, just a few years before Jesus was born. It declared that the birthday of Caesar Augustus was “the beginning of the good tidings for the world.” It called Augustus a “savior.” It praised him for bringing “peace.”¹

Do you see it? The angel shows up and uses the exact same vocabulary that the Roman Empire used for Caesar. “I bring you good news.” “Born this day... a Savior.” “Christ the Lord.” This isn’t a coincidence. This is a direct counter-proclamation. Rome said, “Caesar is your savior, and his birth is good news for the world.” The angel said, “No. This baby is your Savior and he is God.”

When Rome called Caesar 'savior' and 'lord,' every Jew who knew their Scriptures knew it was a lie. Isaiah had declared, 'I, I am the LORD, and besides me there is no savior' (Isaiah 43:11). Caesar wasn't just claiming a title. He was claiming God's title, and they knew he was no “savior”. They knew what Roman “peace” actually looked like. “Pax Romana”, the so-called “Roman Peace,” was enforced through military occupation, crushing taxation, and public crucifixion along major roads to remind everyone what happens when you challenge the Empire. Rome packaged oppression as a gift and called it peace.

The Jewish people had a word for real peace: shalom (שָׁלוֹם), the wholeness and flourishing that comes when God’s order is established. What Rome offered was a counterfeit.

So when the angel announces that a “Savior” has been born who is “Christ the Lord,” this is not a gentle lullaby. This is a declaration, rewriting Rome’s own language, that the real King has arrived. The real peace is here. And it didn’t come through legions of warriors and taxation. It came through a baby in a feeding trough.

Why Shepherds and Not Herod?

And who does the angel deliver this announcement to? Not to Herod, sitting in his palace in Jerusalem just a few miles away. Not to the Sanhedrin. Not to any Roman official. To Shepherds. Working men in a field, watching sheep in the middle of the night. All of this happened right under Herod’s nose, and he never heard a word.

This matters more than we usually let it. Think about the history. David was a shepherd from Bethlehem, the youngest son, left out with the sheep while his brothers were presented to the prophet Samuel (1 Samuel 16:11-13). Moses was tending his father-in-law’s flock when God appeared to him in the burning bush (Exodus 3:1-2). Rachel was tending sheep when Jacob first met her (Genesis 29:9). The patriarchs and greatest leaders of Israel were shepherds, and this had nothing to do with Egyptian or Roman culture. This was distinctly God’s story with His people.

But notice something about every one of those stories. David was the youngest son, the one nobody thought to bring in from the field. Samuel had to ask Jesse, “Are all your sons here?” because they hadn’t even considered David worth presenting (1 Samuel 16:11). Moses wasn’t leading Israel when God found him. He was tending someone else’s sheep in the wilderness, a fugitive from Egypt.

And then there’s Jacob’s family. In Genesis 37, Jacob’s less-favored sons, the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah, are out shepherding the flocks, while Joseph, the favorite, stays close to his father (Genesis 37:2, 12-14). Jacob sends Joseph to go check on them, not to join them. The favored son stays home. The others are out with the sheep. And here’s another fascinating point: Judah was out there with those brothers in the field. The one God chose to carry the line of kings all the way to David, and all the way to Jesus (Matthew 1:2-3, Luke 3:33-34). The son who was out with the sheep, not the favorite who was kept close to the father, he ended up carrying the messianic line.

The Bible doesn’t hide what shepherding signified: it was the role you gave to the least, the youngest, the ones nobody expected anything from.

And God sent angels to them. Not just one angel, but “a multitude of the heavenly host” (Luke 2:13). The full glory of heaven on display for men doing the same job David was doing when nobody thought he mattered.

God didn’t send the announcement to the shepherds because He couldn’t find anyone else. He sent it to them on purpose. This is what Mary had already sung: “He has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate” (Luke 1:52). Now it’s happening in real time.

For All the People

And here is the most beautiful part of it all for us in the Western Hemisphere. The angel says this good news is “for all the people.” This fulfills something far older than the Roman Empire or even the prophets. God promised Abraham, “In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Genesis 12:3).

By the first century, Jewish culture in Jerusalem had become increasingly insular. And there were understandable reasons for that. Surrounded by Hellenistic culture, pressured by Greek philosophy and Roman gods on every side, the instinct to protect God’s word and ways by keeping them close was a survival mechanism. But in the process, something got lost. The calling to be “a light to the nations” (Isaiah 49:6) had been overshadowed by the impulse to build walls around God’s ways.

The angel’s announcement cuts right through that. This good news is not for a select group. It’s not meant to be hoarded or kept safe within the walls of a single Jewish culture or community. It is for all people. The story that begins with Jewish shepherds outside Bethlehem concludes, in Acts, with Paul preaching to Gentiles in Rome and ultimately reached you and me here, today. The seed planted in these two verses blooms into the mission of the church to carry this message to everyone.

Whose “Euangelion” Are You Living By?

This good news changed history forever. We literally set our calendars by it. Every time you write the date, you’re marking time from this moment. That’s how significant it was.

So here’s the question: whose “good news” are you actually believing?

Because we have our own version of the Priene Inscription. Our culture has its own announcements of salvation, its own promises of peace, its own lords demanding allegiance. Financial security says, “Build enough wealth and you’ll be safe. That’s good news.” Career advancement says, “Climb high enough and you’ll matter.” Political power says, “Win the culture war, get the right people in office, and then you’ll have peace.” Social media says, “Curate the right image and you’ll finally be enough.”

These are the euangelia of our age. And just like the Pax Romana, they promise peace but only deliver anxiety and chaos. They promise security but produce fear. They promise satisfaction but leave you chasing the next thing.

The angel’s announcement still cuts through all of it. There is a Savior, and it’s not your 401(k). There is a Lord, and it’s not your political party. There is good news, and it’s not your like count.

The real good news is that God Himself entered the world as a baby in a backwater town, announced His arrival to people the world considered nobodies, and offered salvation to all people. Not some. Not the elite. Not the insiders. Everyone.

So this week, as you memorize these words, ask yourself: what counterfeit “good news” have I been trusting to give me what only God can? Name it. And then let it go.

References

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash