In 2005, a badly damaged painting appeared at a small auction in New Orleans. It was darkened by years of grime. Cracked. Covered over with heavy-handed touch-ups from previous restorations. To most people, it looked tired and unimpressive—certainly not special.
Experts believed it was just a copy of a much more famous work—a valiant attempt to mimic one of the great master. The bidding reflected that. It sold for just over $1,000. But the buyers noticed something others missed. Beneath the damage—beneath the layers of paint and neglect—there were hints of extraordinary detail. They decided to take a risk and have it professionally restored.
The process was slow. Painstaking. Millimetre by millimetre, layer by layer, restorers carefully removed what time and neglect had piled on. And as they worked, something remarkable began to emerge. What was it? The answer will have to wait for the end of my talk, so for now, let’s put the New Orleans Painting in our pockets and take a look at the Christmas story.
The Text
Typically the Christmas story is the Nativity story in Luke, but today we’re going get a different perspective on that famous night. Near the end of the Bible is a book called “Titus” Titus 2:11 describes Christmas this way:
(Titus 2:11, NRSVue) For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all
That sentence captures the heart of Christmas. Let’s break it into three simple ideas:
- Grace
- Salvation
- All
1. Grace
Grace is not a religious word for being polite or spiritual. Grace means “gift”—it means receiving something good that you did not earn and do not deserve. But we live in a transactional world, don’t we? You work, you get paid. You behave, you’re rewarded. You mess up, you pay the price. That logic runs deep in us.
Many people assume God works the same way. Like a divine version of The Godfather—He does you a favor now, but now you wait for the other shoe to drop, knowing that one day the debt will be called in. There’s always a catch, right? Not with grace. Grace only works if it’s undeserved. Grace isn’t a wage, it’s a gift.
Christmas is not us climbing up to God. Christmas is God stepping down toward us.
2. Salvation
Titus 2:11 says grace brings salvation. That word can sound very churchy, but it’s actually very simple. Salvation means rescue. The truth revealed in the Bible is that something is deeply broken in us. That’s right, in us—not just around us. We hurt people we love. We sabotage ourselves. We carry guilt, shame, and regret that no amount of success, morality, or self-improvement seems to be able erase.
Imagine being stranded in the ocean after your boat capsizes, clinging to a life preserver and hoping for a miracle. Suddenly the Coast Guard emerges on the horizon! They pull up beside you and tell you what direction shore is, and encourage you to swim super hard!
What??
In that moment you don’t need advice. You don’t need motivation. You don’t need someone yelling, “Swim harder.” You need rescue! This is why Jesus came. Rescue is why Jesus came. Not to help good people become slightly better—but to rescue people who cannot rescue themselves. I myself am one of those rescuees. Because the baby in the manger did not stay a baby. Jesus grew up, lived a perfect life, and willingly went to the cross to deal with sin, guilt, and separation from God. And the historical fact of His resurrection is proof that the rescue He offers is real.
Grace doesn’t say, “Do better,” it says, “You are loved. Let Me save you.”
3. Appeared… to All
This is where Christmas becomes unmistakable. The verse says grace appeared. That means it became visible. Grace is not an idea or a philosophy. Grace showed up in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. God did not send a motivational speech or a TED Talk. He came Himself—born into poverty, laid in a feeding trough. And who did He come for?
All
God came for everyone. He wants all of us to accept His recuse. And that matters more than we might realize. Even though God wants all to be saved, He does not force Himself on us. He does not override our will. Love that is forced is not love at all. God loves us enough to let us choose—even if we choose to reject Him. Nevertheless, Christmas is an invitation. Grace offers rescue, but it does not drag anyone kicking and screaming. A gift still has to be received.
That’s why our response matters.
The Wise Men
The Christmas story tells us that some of the first people to seek Jesus were wealthy, educated men from the East—what we often call the Wise Men. These were people of influence. They had resources. They had status. If anyone looked like they had life figured out, it was them. And yet—they still came. They still bowed. Their presence tells us that grace is not just for people who are desperate—it’s also for people who seem to have it all.
The Shepherds
But then there are the shepherds. Shepherds were poor. Dirty. Socially invisible. Even within their own culture, they were often viewed as outsiders—unclean. And yet they were the first to hear the announcement. Before the kings. Before the scholars. Before anyone polite society considered “important”. Grace did not start at the top and work its way down. It went first to the margins and then worked its way up. The message is unmistakable: no one is too important to need grace—and no one is too insignificant to receive it.
The Paradox of Grace
I want to take a moment to talk about what I call the “Paradox of Grace”. Because grace asks nothing of you, but it also asks everything of you.
Grace says, “I love you just as you are”, but it also says, “I love you too much to let you stay there.” Grace meets us exactly in the moment we are in, but it spurs us on to more. Grace doesn’t shame us for being broken. But it also doesn’t pretend brokenness is fine.
Hear me tonight: You matter. You are deeply loved.You can be healed. You can be restored. Rescue is ready.
That’s why Christmas isn’t sentimental fluff. It’s the launchpad of Jesus’ rescue mission.
Returning to the Painting
Which brings us back around the the New Orleans Painting we put in our pocket at the beginning.
As restorers continued their careful work, a hand began to emerge—raised in blessing. Then a face—calm, piercing, unmistakably alive. An orb of crystal, painted with impossible precision. Experts slowly realized what they were looking at. The hope that the original buyers were afraid to believe was proving true! This was no copy. It was an original—long-believed lost to time—by none other than Leonardo da Vinci. The painting was called—fittingly for our message today—the Salvator Mundi, or Saviour of the World. In 2017, that once-overlooked painting sold for over $450 million, becoming the most expensive painting ever sold. A masterpiece had been hiding in plain sight.
That is what Christmas was to world history. God’s grace did not arrive with spectacle or power, but quietly—through a baby born into poverty. To the world, He seemed ordinary. Easy to overlook. But once you see who He really is, you can’t unsee it.
Response & Invitation
Tonight, Christmas offers a response. Not to religion. Not to pretending. Not to having everything figured out. But to grace.
If you are here tonight and you know you need rescue—if you are tired of carrying guilt, regret, or the pressure to earn approval—this invitation is for you. If you would like to receive God’s grace tonight, I want to invite you to raise your hand right where you are. There’s nothing magical about a raised hand. It’s simply a way of saying, “I choose to receive the gift being offered.” If that’s you, raise your hand.
Let’s pray together. Repeat after me.
God, I come to You just as I am.
I know I can’t rescue myself.
I believe You sent Jesus to rescue me.
To forgive my sin.
And to give me new life.
Tonight, I receive Your grace.
I place my trust in Jesus.
Thank You for loving me.
Thank You for saving me.
Amen.
Celebration & Candlelight
If you prayed that prayer for the first time tonight, Christmas just became more than a sentiment or a memory — it has become an anniversary of new life. The Bible tells us that when even one person turns toward God, all heaven rejoices. And while heaven may be louder than we are tonight, we want you to know this: we are grateful, and we are glad you’re here. This is what Christmas is about.
Grace has appeared. Rescue is available. New life has begun.
In just a moment, we’re going to do something together that helps us see what that means.
Earlier, you were given a candle. In a moment, four people will begin with a single flame. And one by one, that light will be shared — not by taking light away, but by spreading it. Here’s how we’ll do that: If you have a lit candle, keep it upright. If your candle is unlit, tilt it gently to receive the flame.What I want you to notice is this: The light is never diminished by being shared. Darkness doesn’t overcome it — darkness retreats.
That’s the message of Christmas. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world.” And Christmas is the moment that light stepped into the darkness — not loudly, not forcefully, but faithfully. Tonight, as the light spreads through this room, let it remind you that grace does the same thing. It moves quietly. It reaches ordinary people. And it has a way of filling places we thought would always stay dark.
Let’s share the light together.