The song we sing was birthed in hard places, where people under pressure dared to believe that injustice would not have the final word. The birth of Jesus is God’s public solidarity with the lowly and the suffering; He steps into the dark and calls it not the end, but the beginning. When the weight feels too heavy, this good news insists that God is not distant or silent. He hears, He comes near, and He plants hope where despair tried to root itself. Let your heart remember: because Jesus is born, the night will not last forever. [02:27]
Luke 2:10–11
The messenger from heaven said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m bringing you good news that brings deep joy for everyone. Today, in David’s town, a Rescuer has been born for you—the Messiah, the Lord.”
Reflection: Where do you feel the weight of oppression or unfairness right now, and how might Christ’s birth reshape your posture there this week—perhaps through one small act of hope or solidarity?
This message isn’t meant to be whispered. It belongs on the highest places and in our loudest voices—over the hills and everywhere—because the gospel was never designed to stay local or quiet. The good news moves from Bethlehem to the ends of the earth, from your living room to your workplace, from your neighborhood to your online spaces. Don’t minimize what God has done; elevate it. Let your daily life become a mountain from which grace is announced. [05:16]
Isaiah 40:9
You who carry good news to Zion, climb a high peak and call out with courage. Lift your voice without fear and say to the cities, “Look—your God has arrived!”
Reflection: What is your “mountain” this week—a specific place, conversation, or platform—where you can clearly and kindly announce what God has done, and what will you actually say?
Many paths offer lists of what to do, but only this story tells how God came to us. In Jesus, God put on our humanity, not watching from a distance but walking with us in every trial and temptation. He is Emmanuel—God with us—and this changes everything. He is the better High Priest and the perfect sacrifice we could never provide. Because He came down, hope rises up, and our tomorrow is not ruled by darkness. [10:23]
John 1:1, 14
From the very beginning, the Word existed with God—and was God. Then the Word took on our flesh and lived among us; we saw His glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son, overflowing with faithful love and truth.
Reflection: What part of your life has felt “watched from a distance,” and how will you welcome Jesus there this week as God-with-you in a concrete way?
Everyone who met Him began to tell: Joseph obeyed before he had clarity; Elizabeth overflowed with Spirit-born encouragement; the shepherds stopped everything to seek Him; Simeon and Anna publicly testified; the Magi worshiped with costly gifts. Different people, different stories, same response—go tell. You don’t have to copy someone else’s way; your obedience, your encouragement, your search, your testimony, your worship all become proclamation. Let your encounter move your feet and open your mouth in the way God has uniquely given you. [29:31]
Luke 2:17–20
After seeing Him, the shepherds spread the word about what had been told concerning the child, and everyone who heard it was amazed. They returned to their fields overflowing with praise, giving glory to God for all they had seen and heard—it matched exactly what was announced to them.
Reflection: Which expression fits your season right now—obedience, encouragement, seeking, testimony, or worship—and what is one practical step you will take in that lane this week?
Often the telling begins in places we’d rather avoid—weakness, mistakes, and wounds. Yet God draws near to contrite hearts and meets us right there; brokenness becomes the soil where grace does its deepest work. You don’t need to become more than you are to share; simply bring who you are, and let God’s mercy be the headline. Your story—of mind mended, hope restored, sins forgiven—can lift someone else’s faith. Go tell of that grace. [31:28]
Hebrews 4:15–16
We don’t have a High Priest who is detached from our reality; He understands our frailty, having faced every kind of testing we face—yet without sin. So let’s come with confidence to the throne of grace to receive mercy and timely help.
Reflection: What is one part of your story you usually hide that could reveal God’s mercy, and how could you share it this week in a way that is humble, safe, and hopeful for the listener?
I set out to lift up an old song that was born in the crucible of suffering: Go Tell It on the Mountain. It emerged from the African American spiritual tradition—songs of worship sung under oppression—where faith, hope, and survival took on a melody. In 1907, John Wesley Work Jr. wrote it down so the world would not forget that in darkness you can still sing of the goodness of God. The chorus gives a pattern: what to do, where to do it, and what to say. Go tell it—publicly and boldly. Over the hills and everywhere—the gospel is for all people. That Jesus Christ is born—the incarnation is the radical center.
I contrasted the endless religious to‑do lists with the shocking distinction of Christianity: God came down. Not observing from a distance, but entering history, taking on flesh, walking with us, and offering the perfect sacrifice. Emmanuel—God with us—means he knows our frailty, our temptations, our limits. This isn’t sentiment; it is history, the turning point that even our calendars acknowledge.
Because Christ is born, despair, anxiety, sickness, and sorrow do not get the last word. Scripture shows a chorus of unlikely witnesses who encountered him and could not keep quiet. Joseph told it by obeying without full clarity. Elizabeth told it by Spirit‑filled discernment and prophetic blessing. Shepherds told it by dropping everything and seeking him. Simeon and Anna told it by faithful perseverance and immediate testimony. The Magi told it by sacrificial worship. Different people, different stories—same response: go and tell.
Our telling rarely begins from strength. It starts in the places we’d rather hide—the weakness, the wounds, the failures—because those are the very places grace does its deepest work. We don’t need to become more than we are; we bring who we are, and God meets us. If we stood and shared what God has done—healing, deliverance, restoration—faith in the room would rise. So let’s take this song off the page and into our neighborhoods: go tell it on the mountain that Jesus Christ is born.
The incarnation it means God in fleshed becoming embodied in human form to reveal himself becoming embodied in human form to experience humanity That's a very interesting statement because it's not it's not the representation that God is watching us from a distance but rather walking with us through all the trials and tragedies of this tragic world It's the incarnation it's the incarnation it is God the embodiment of God watch in human form to provide the perfect sacrifice for our sins [00:07:54] (41 seconds) #IncarnationMatters
This gives me a profound hope that if Jesus Christ is born darkness will not last forever Come on because Jesus Christ is born despair won't last forever Because Jesus Christ is born depression won't last forever Because Jesus Christ is born anxiety won't last forever Because Jesus Christ is born sickness and disease will not last forever Because Jesus Christ is born anger won't last forever Hopelessness won't last forever because Jesus Christ is born It means there is hope that I can stand on for all of my tomorrows [00:14:27] (47 seconds) #JesusBringsHope
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