“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 h
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? “
Author – MAX LUCADO – It Began in a Manager (Click on link)
I wonder if your last week few weeks have been like mine? Hectic, busy, stressful, on the go, tiring and full of activity…
We’ve had –
🎄Presents to buy, wrap and deliver.
🎄Cards to write and send.
🎄Trees to put up and decorate.
🎄Turkeys to order and food to buy.
🎄Nativity plays, carol services, work do’s and Christmas parties to attend.
🎄Maybe flights to book or to catch.
🎄Bags to pack.
🎄Houses to tidy and bedrooms to prepare for guests.
🎄Trips to santa to endure!
To name but a few, I’m sure you can add many more to that list!
And, if you’re further like me, you’ve got to this point of the Christmas Eve and it’s just about time to sigh with relief and to accept that Christmas Day is almost upon us. It will come and go and what hasn’t been done, or has been forgotten, just needs to be left to be.
I think I could easily be likened to that Inn keeper – who was also completely stretched with busyness, that first Christmas. It wasn’t wrong that he was busy or that he had work to do, but it got in the way of something more important. Because, he missed it. He missed God coming to earth.
Have we, have you, have I? Have we missed Him, this season? In the hustle and bustle of all that is great about our celebrations, have we missed the reason we’re even at the party in the first place?
It strikes me as odd, when I really stop to think about it. The reason I have anything to celebrate, at this time of year, is because God came to us. And yet, more than often than not, I forget about Him or forget to look for Him for and I behave like I have much more important things to be doing. When really I don’t.
Are you looking for Him this Christmas?
Are you like the Shepherds and the Wise men?
Or the Innkeeper and the rest of the town?
God’s promise is that if we look for Him, we will find Him. What better, and more complete demonstration, do we need that the fact that He came to earth, first off, looking for us?
We are the very reason He did what he did, in choosing a smelly stable over the grandeur of heaven. We meant, and we still mean, that much to Him.
God knows you, this Christmas. He knows all about you, He sees you. His desire is that you know him too. We can only do that by looking for him. He is still looking for us and He is still coming to us.
“Those who missed His Majesty’s arrival, that night long ago, missed it not because of evil acts or malice. They missed it because they simply weren’t looking.”
Let’s not make the same mistake this Christmas.
Let’s not miss Him, in the midst of all that tonight and tomorrow may bring.
God came to earth for us.
Let’s make Christmas what it should be. It should be about Him because He first made it all about us.
Whatever else you do or don’t do this Christmas season, please don’t miss Him!