Glorious Providence

A Christmas Reflection

Luke 2:1–21 is one of those passages you can come at from a dozen angles. Wherever you dig, you find something worth turning over. What kept catching my eye this time was the way Scripture mixes the extraordinary with the ordinary. The miracle of the virgin birth was extraordinary in every sense. Babies normally come into the world the old-fashioned way, through what theologians call “ordinary generation.” Jesus didn’t. The Holy Spirit overshadowed Mary, and the child was conceived without a biological father. Some folks choke on that. They choke on any miracle. Others try to define a miracle as God “breaking” natural laws, as if the biblical writers were thinking like Enlightenment philosophers. They weren’t. They saw miracles for what they are: unusual displays of God’s power and lordship.

John Frame puts it well: miracles are extraordinary demonstrations of God’s lordship. That’s what’s going on when Moses parts the Red Sea. Israel wasn’t standing there worrying about physics. They simply knew, “This doesn’t happen, God is doing this.” Same thing when Jesus fills Peter’s nets in Luke 5. Peter doesn’t say, “How’d you do that?” He drops to his knees. He knows he’s standing in front of the Lord.

Miracles reveal three things. They are powers, God showing He really does rule wind, waves, demons, sickness, and everything else. They are signs; they communicate something about who He is and what He intends. And they are wonders, they shake people awake. In Scripture, miracles usually show up in clusters when God wants to confirm a message or a messenger: Moses before Pharaoh, Elijah and Elisha during an age of apostasy, Jesus and the apostles at the dawn of the new covenant. Hebrews 2 says their ministry was “confirmed” by signs and wonders. That’s the point: confirmation. These days we test everything by Scripture. We don’t need gold dust falling from the ceiling or teenagers claiming God replaced their fillings. Most of that stuff tells you more about what a church values, usually money, than what God is doing.

But real miracles matter. And the first great miracle in this passage is the virgin birth, God stepping into the world in the flesh. Yet once you really look at the “ordinary” world, photosynthesis, the Krebs cycle, conception, providential timing, ordinary doesn’t feel ordinary anymore. The line between God’s “ordinary” work and His “extraordinary” work is thinner than people think. Which brings us to providence.

If miracles are God’s unusual works, providence is His usual work. The Shorter Catechism says God preserves and governs all His creatures and all their actions. Preservation means nothing holds together on its own. Colossians says Christ “holds all things together.” Hebrews says He “upholds the universe by the word of His power.” We act like the universe is a self-running machine. It’s not. It’s sustained moment by moment because God wants it to continue.

But God doesn’t just preserve; He governs. Psalm 104 says He causes grass to grow. Job says He raises and destroys nations. Jesus says not even a sparrow falls apart from the Father. From the movement of empires down to the life of a bird, He’s involved in all of it. People stumble over that. They ask whether this includes human sin. Scripture’s answer is yes, but not in a way that makes God morally guilty. Joseph’s brothers meant evil; God meant it for good. The crucifixion was the worst injustice in history, yet it fulfilled God’s plan without making God the author of sin. There’s real mystery there, but it’s the mystery Scripture teaches. And honestly, people need to admit they don’t understand half the things they claim to understand anyway.

All of that shows up in Luke 2:1–7. Mary is ready to give birth. Joseph has no business dragging her on a long trip, unless something forces him to. And something did: a decree from Caesar Augustus. That decree didn’t come out of nowhere. It came out of a long, strange chain of events that started decades earlier when a sickly young man named Gaius Octavius survived a shipwreck, impressed Julius Caesar, and eventually became his adopted son and heir. That’s the only reason Octavius, now called Augustus, “the exalted one,” rose to power. And once in power, he stabilized Rome, built the roads, centralized taxation, and established the Pax Romana. All of that, not one piece accidental, put Joseph and Mary on the road to Bethlehem. And that’s where Micah 5:2 said the Messiah had to be born.

If that sickly boy doesn’t survive the shipwreck, or doesn’t impress Caesar, or Mark Antony wins the power struggle, everything looks different. Maybe Rome fractures again. Maybe there’s no census. Maybe Joseph never leaves Nazareth. But God was weaving every thread. Galatians 4 says Christ came “in the fullness of time,” when the world was prepared, one language, good roads, stable borders, and the gospel could run.

Augustus thought he was the son of a god and lord of the world. In one sense, he did shape history. But his empire is rubble now. His wealth, his marble, his glory... all dust. Meanwhile, the true Son of God was born to a poor couple in a backwater town, and His kingdom is still spreading. That’s providence. God raised Augustus up for Christ’s sake and brought him down when his usefulness was over.

Providence teaches us we are never at the mercy of chance, fate, or tyrants. History is not chaos. God governs it. And the same God who orchestrated empires also governs your life. That includes the detours, the disappointments, the tragedies. People always ask “Why?” when suffering hits. The deeper question is, “Do you trust the One writing the story?” The cross looked like the end of hope; it was actually the salvation of the world. That’s how God works. He brings glory out of horror, goodness out of evil, peace out of upheaval.

So as you celebrate Christ’s birth, remember both sides of what God does: His extraordinary miracles and His ordinary providence. Both are at work in your life. Both reveal His care. And one day, when you stand before Him, you’ll see how every thread was woven. For now, trust Him. Rejoice that He is Lord over all things. And rest in the fact that nothing, absolutely nothing, is outside His hand.

Painting: Peter Roder