Luke 2:15-20 (NIV) When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”
So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.
After all of the light, the loud singing and chanting of praises to God, the night now seemed more than just empty. It seemed vacant, hollow. The shepherds, still breathless from their encounter with a whole sky full of angels, spent only a few moments looking at each other before one of them spoke up: “We should go to Bethlehem and see for ourselves the things that the angel told us about.” And it was decided.
It was easy to find the house in which a birth had occurred that night, because Bethlehem was a small village of only a few hundred people, and everybody knew everybody’s business. When they got to the house, they were directed to Mary and Joseph, and there, swaddled in a manger, just like they had been told, was the baby.
The thing that struck them the most about the baby was the fact that He looked just like a normal baby. They weren’t sure what they expected Him to look like. Maybe bigger than normal, or with some kind of glow about Him. Or maybe they thought that He would have eyes that shone with supernatural wisdom and power. But this child looked just like a normal, tiny, helpless baby – one you would never have picked out of a crowd.
They started to tell the people there about what they had seen and heard out in the fields, timidly at first, but with increasing enthusiasm as the people began to hang on their words with ever-increasing interest. As they spoke, from time to time, the people’s eyes broke away from the earnest faces of these simple shepherds to the faces of Mary and Joseph, who were listening with as much interest as anyone. And then they would look over at the small form lying quietly in the manger and just ponder.
The word Messiah was used frequently by many of these people, always in the hope that God would send Him soon. But now the word seemed to strike with fresh import. Was this baby really the long-awaited Messiah? Was this really happening right now in front of their own eyes? They, like the shepherds, searched for some sing in the face of the child Himself, but found nothing but the innocence of a newborn baby. But there was something in the faces of Mary and Joseph, a strange sparkle in their eyes, the deep looks that passed between them as they listened to the shepherds unpack their story, that made the people think that this wasn’t’ the first time that they had heard these things.
As the shepherds left, still excitedly reliving their experience with each other, an awed hush fell over the house. Such strange events! Such hope! This child was going to bear watching!
Father, even though Jesus looked to earthly eyes like just a normal newborn, for those with eyes to see, the glory of heaven itself was hidden just below the surface. But it does remind me that, in moving Your kingdom forward, You don’t choose superheroes or mutants with strange powers. You choose regular, ordinary people who are surrendered to Your will. A Mary, or a Joseph, or even a group of ordinary shepherds. Thank You for allowing even a plain person like me to play a role, even a small one, in Your plan. Amen.