God, the Highest. The King of the Heavens, who decided to make His throne in some hay. The Almighty, who thought it fit to lay in a manger. The Author of Life, who decided to become man—and, somehow, by grace, to bring life to all men. Yes, us: the lowly creatures, made of dust and to dust returning. Yet we are His beloved, the objects of His favor. To us He brings peace.
I remember finding it odd, all those years ago, when Father told me those silly people had been content with the animals, with the stable, with the manger. There wasn't room for them in the inn, but they hadn't really seemed to mind.
Father told me about them shortly after they arrived—a man and his wife, he thought, and the latter would be having a baby any day. His creased face had looked troubled as he told me. Was a stable any place to have a baby? But the stable was better than nothing—and, now, I am glad that it was the stable over anything.
Father had asked me to come with him as he brought them bread and water after the rush of the crowd that busy night. I followed, carrying the water jar, but Father stopped at the entrance. Even from behind, I saw his hands trembling. He nearly dropped the bread. Something was wrong.
But a man's gentle voice had come from within: "It's okay; welcome." I remember clutching the water jar and quietly entering after my father. It didn't take long to see what had worried him; the baby had been born, and he was lying in the manger. That felt wrong, then, for any baby. It feels strange, now, knowing that that baby was a King, my King. My father tried to ease into the awkwardness. He held out the bread, his hands still trembling, but his gesture felt as out-of-place as the baby in the feeding trough.
"Thank you," the other man said. Rising from his seat on the hay-covered floor, he received the food from my father's hand, covering the scene with grace. "I'm Joseph," he said. I looked at him. He was young and clearly tired, but a broad and peaceful smile lit up his face. The mother was the same: weary, but full of joy. She met my gaze and beamed.
How quickly, though, she looked away, startled yet still smiling, to the entrance of the stable. I turned and looked too. A glorious group of shepherds filed in and filled the room. (I must describe them that way. They were shepherds, in the fullest sense of the word: worn sandals, snagged clothes, staffs, gruff, and, yeah, a...scent. But should you have seen their faces, you would have said "glorious" too.)
They gathered around, excited, nearly singing. One was louder than the others: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests!"
They circled the manger, grinning. "It's just as the angels said!" one exclaimed. "Good news of great joy for all people! Today in the town of David a Savior has been born; He is Christ the Lord. And there He is—the sign they said we'd see! A baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger!"
They sang and praised and bowed before the child. Laughter, hugs—then out they went, as quickly as they had come. We could hear them rejoicing in the streets as they left: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests!"
Even then, we knew that that tiny baby, wrapped up and lying in the feeding trough, was a gift, and "divine" had a different meaning than we'd ever thought before. It was deeper, for Divine had touched dust. It was sweeter, for the Creator could cry. It meant more, for our frailty became His frame. The Great One knelt. The Perfect played. The One who holds the universe flipped it all on its head, looked straight into our eyes, slobbered, and meant that, in it all, He understood.
We simply knelt after that and repeated the shepherds' praise: "Glory to God in the highest; on earth peace to men on whom His favor rests."
Never has more worth been laid on the lowly than on that night, when the Savior chose the stable.
O night, O night divine.
Thank you, Lord. Our Light has come.
—————————————
Quotations and paraphrases of Scripture are taken from Luke 2:1-18, NIV (1984). This reading was originally written for and performed (by me) during a Christmas Eve service at Faith Worship Community, Costa Mesa, CA (2016).
