THE NOISE and the bustle began earlier than usual in the village. As
night gave way to dawn, people were already on the streets. Vendors
were positioning themselves on the corners of the most heavily
traveled avenues. Store owners were unlocking the doors to their
shops. Children were awakened by the excited barking of the street
dogs and the complaints of donkeys pulling carts.
The owner of the inn had awakened earlier than most in the town.
After all, the inn was full, all the beds taken. Every available mat
or blanket had been put to use. Soon all the customers would be
stirring and there would be a lot of work to do.One’s imagination is kindled thinking about the conversation of the
innkeeper and his family at the breakfast table. Did anyone mention
the arrival of the young couple the night before? Did anyone comment
on the pregnancy of the girl on the donkey? Perhaps. Perhaps someone
raised the subject. But, at best, it was raised, not discussed. There
was nothing that novel about them. They were, possibly, one of several
families turned away that night.
Besides, who had time to talk about them when there was so much
excitement in the air? Augustus did the economy of Bethlehem a favor
when he decreed that a census should be taken. Who could remember
when such commerce had hit the village?
No, it is doubtful that anyone mentioned the couple’s arrival or
wondered about the condition of the girl. They were too busy. The day
was upon them. The day’s bread had to be made. The morning’s chores
had to be done. There was too much to do to imagine that the
impossible had occurred.
God had entered the world as a baby.
Yet, were someone to chance upon the sheep stable on the outskirts of
Bethlehem that morning, what a peculiar scene they would behold.
The stable stinks like all stables do. The stench of urine, dung, and
sheep reeks pungently in the air. The ground is hard, the hay scarce.
Cobwebs cling to the ceiling and a mouse scurries across the dirt
floor.
A more lowly place of birth could not exist.
Off to one side sit a group of shepherds. They sit silently on the
floor, perhaps perplexed, perhaps in awe, no doubt in amazement.
Their night watch had been interrupted by an explosion of light from
heaven and a symphony of angels. God goes to those who have time to
hear him — so on this cloudless night he went to simple shepherds.
Near the young mother sits the weary father. If anyone is dozing, he
is. He can’t remember the last time he sat down. And now that the
excitement has subsided a bit, now that Mary and the baby are
comfortable, he leans against the wall of the stable and feels his
eyes grow heavy. He still hasn’t figured it all out. The mystery of
the event still puzzles him. But he hasn’t the energy to wrestle with
the questions. What’s important is that the baby is fine and that Mary
is safe. As sleep comes, he remembers the name the angel told him to
use … Jesus. “We will call him Jesus.”
Wide awake is Mary. My, how young she looks! Her head rests on the
soft leather of Joseph’s saddle. The pain has been eclipsed by
wonder. She looks into the face of the baby. Her son. Her Lord. His
Majesty. At this point in history, the human being who best
understands who God is and what he is doing is a teenage girl in a
smelly stable. She can’t take her eyes off him. Somehow Mary knows
she is holding God. So this is he. She remembers the words of the
angel, “His kingdom will never end.”
He looks anything but a king. His face is prunish and red. His cry,
though strong and healthy, is still the helpless and piercing cry of
a baby. And he is absolutely dependent upon Mary for his well-being.
Majesty in the midst of the mundane. Holiness in the filth of sheep
manure and sweat. Divinity entering the world on the floor of a
stable, through the womb of a teenager and in the presence of a
carpenter.
She touches the face of the infant-God. How long was your journey!
This baby had overlooked the universe. These rags keeping him warm
were the robes of eternity. His golden throne room had been abandoned
in favor of a dirty sheep pen. And worshiping angels had been replaced
with kind but bewildered shepherds.
Meanwhile, the city hums. The merchants are unaware that God has
visited their planet. The innkeeper would never believe that he had
just sent God into the cold. And the people would scoff at anyone who
told them the Messiah lay in the arms of a teenager on the outskirts
of their village. They were all too busy to consider the possibility.
Those who missed His Majesty’s arrival that night missed it not
because of evil acts or malice; no, they missed it because they
simply weren’t looking.
Little has changed in the last two thousand years, has it?
Max Lucado
…
“The Arrival” is from Max’s book: God Came Near � 1987 by Max Lucado
ISBN O8499-5255-7 (Used by Permission)
excitement in the air? Augustus did the economy of Bethlehem a favor
when he decreed that a census should be taken. Who could remember
when such commerce had hit the village?
wondered about the condition of the girl. They were too busy. The day
was upon them. The day’s bread had to be made. The morning’s chores
had to be done. There was too much to do to imagine that the
impossible had occurred.
Bethlehem that morning, what a peculiar scene they would behold.
sheep reeks pungently in the air. The ground is hard, the hay scarce.
Cobwebs cling to the ceiling and a mouse scurries across the dirt
floor.
floor, perhaps perplexed, perhaps in awe, no doubt in amazement.
Their night watch had been interrupted by an explosion of light from
heaven and a symphony of angels. God goes to those who have time to
hear him — so on this cloudless night he went to simple shepherds.
is. He can’t remember the last time he sat down. And now that the
excitement has subsided a bit, now that Mary and the baby are
comfortable, he leans against the wall of the stable and feels his
eyes grow heavy. He still hasn’t figured it all out. The mystery of
the event still puzzles him. But he hasn’t the energy to wrestle with
the questions. What’s important is that the baby is fine and that Mary
is safe. As sleep comes, he remembers the name the angel told him to
use … Jesus. “We will call him Jesus.”
soft leather of Joseph’s saddle. The pain has been eclipsed by
wonder. She looks into the face of the baby. Her son. Her Lord. His
Majesty. At this point in history, the human being who best
understands who God is and what he is doing is a teenage girl in a
smelly stable. She can’t take her eyes off him. Somehow Mary knows
she is holding God. So this is he. She remembers the words of the
angel, “His kingdom will never end.”
though strong and healthy, is still the helpless and piercing cry of
a baby. And he is absolutely dependent upon Mary for his well-being.
manure and sweat. Divinity entering the world on the floor of a
stable, through the womb of a teenager and in the presence of a
carpenter.
were the robes of eternity. His golden throne room had been abandoned
in favor of a dirty sheep pen. And worshiping angels had been replaced
with kind but bewildered shepherds.
visited their planet. The innkeeper would never believe that he had
just sent God into the cold. And the people would scoff at anyone who
told them the Messiah lay in the arms of a teenager on the outskirts
of their village. They were all too busy to consider the possibility.
because of evil acts or malice; no, they missed it because they
simply weren’t looking.
ISBN O8499-5255-7 (Used by Permission)
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