One thing is for certain-- that night in Bethlehem was anything but silent. Crowded streets, inns full, families laying down mats wherever they could find room. The city was so packed that people started renting out barn space. Mary and Joseph, the newlywed couple on what may be the strangest honeymoon in history, found themselves living in a cave, crammed in between cows and donkeys.
It was the opposite of silent.
This was the night that goes down in history as tranquil, still, calm. This was the night that God, in the form of a squalling infant, came to live with us. He came to a barn, to be tended by the night-watch shepherds, the lowest guys on the career totem pole. The equivalent of those people that work the night shift at Jack in the Box. The Highest condescended to the Lowest place. Backwater Bethlehem, in forgotten Judah. Four hundred years after the last prophet came, heralding the arrival of the Chosen One who would deliver the people, He came. Quietly, without trumpet-sound. Without royal announcements. Without great celebration.
Except.
Except for the entire assembly of angels burning up the night sky. Except for the giant supernova-like star brighter than the moonlight casting shadows. Except for the boisterous shepherds running down the streets shouting the news that the Messiah was here.
How could anyone have slept through all this? All of Bethlehem must have been up wondering what the ruckus was about. They must have thought the world had gone crazy. And it had.
At that moment, something new began. A new era started. New life was possible.
And still is.
1 comment:
That was a really good post. Jesus is a big deal, and what a story!
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