NOTE: For this Advent season, my blog posts have taken a different turn. For the five weeks beginning December 4, i am posting five short stories surrounding the incarnational birth of Jesus. These stories are my gift to you — as faithful readers of this blog. If you are new to my blog and missed the first two posts, i invite you to go back and read them. Though i will endeavor to keep each story factual as to the details conveyed through the Gospels – by their nature these stories will be fictional first person accounts involving both historical and fictional characters, as well as fictional details that have been incorporated into each narrative. My prayer is that, through the telling, we witness anew the glory of our Heavenly Father expressed through the incarnational birth of His One and Only Son. To that end, let’s look at the account through the eyes of these five very different individuals:
Joseph – A humble carpenter (December 4)
Achim – Joseph’s cousin (December 11)
Moshe – A Bethlehem shepherd (This week - December 18)
Simeon – An expectant prophet (December 25)
Balthazar – A Babylonian scholar (January 1)
My name is Moshe. I am a shepherd. I have watched over sheep in these Bethlehem hills since I was a young boy. My father and grandfather were both shepherds as were their fathers and grandfathers – all the way back to the shepherd king himself – David. He knew these hills like the back of his hand – just like each one of us has ever since. There was a time during the captivity of our people in Babylon that my ancestors were not shepherding in these hills. But by the grace of Jehovah, He made the way for us to return many years ago.
There is nothing else I would rather be doing, and there is nowhere else I would rather be. Jehovah God has blessed me greatly. He is the greatest Shepherd of all! He has chosen us to be His people – His flock, if you will. He watches over us and cares for us. He provides for us and leads us where He would have us be. He teaches us to know His voice. And He has given us His commands to protect us.
He has blessed me with a loving and beautiful wife. I will unashamedly admit to you that I do not deserve her. She is a gift from God. Her name is Ayda which means “joy”. And there is no denying that she has brought joy into my life. One of the many ways she has done so has been through the birth of our five children – three boys and two girls. I will probably spoil my daughters – at least that is what Ayda tells me – but I will teach my sons how to be good shepherds, just as my father taught me. As a matter of fact, my oldest son Shimon, who recently turned ten years of age, is already of great help to me. Though he looks just like me, he has his mother’s quick wit and her gentle spirit.
Ayda gave birth to our youngest son just three nights ago! We named him Eliezer which means “gift of God”. All of our children are a gift, but Ayda bore him with great difficulty. There was a time we did not think he would survive, but by God’s grace He did. His precious life truly was a gift. Shimon and I were watching over the flock when my oldest daughter Hannah came running into the hills to tell us of his birth. It was a glorious night – filled with joy, excitement and thanksgiving.
Excitement has continued to emote throughout our entire town. Not because Eliezer was born, but because our sleepy little town has been filling up with visitors. The Roman emperor decreed that a census be taken – and everyone is required to return to their ancestral home. I was grateful that I didn’t need to travel any distance to get to my ancestral home – I already live here! And my family never scattered to other places in the province, so Ayda and I were not expecting any distant relatives to be our guests for the census. Honestly, with Ayda having just given birth to little Eliezer, we have been grateful that we weren’t expecting company. But many of our neighbors have been anticipating and preparing for the arrival of extended family from other towns. There are now many unfamiliar faces about the town. Who ever thought that a government census could bring that much excitement!
Last night, Shimon and I were back in the fields watching over our sheep – just like we always do. As usual other shepherds were also on the hillside watching their flocks. It was a clear still night – without a cloud in the sky. The sheep were contented, so it was a quiet night in the hills. And as we looked down on the town, it too was still. Apparently all of the families and guests were resting after a day filled with excitement. Shimon was excitedly telling me how he and his younger brother Jacob were going to help me train up Eliezer to be a good shepherd. As I listened to him, I was delighting in my son, as again I was reminded how grown up he is becoming.
Then all of a sudden our tranquility was interrupted by the appearance of what appeared to be a man – but a man unlike any I have ever seen. He was surrounded by a blinding light. While I raised a hand to shield my eyes, I instinctively reached out to pull Shimon close to my side. As best I could, I looked at the other shepherds who were near. At first, we all were trying to discern what was happening and what we should do. Did this man mean us harm? Should we run? But we all knew that we could not abandon our sheep! Who was this man and what did he want? In a matter of moments, I realized that something about the light was drawing me in. Instead of feeling threatened, the light seemed to be embracing us. Don’t misunderstand me – we were afraid! But at the same time, we were held spellbound.
Though it seemed like an eternity, in reality it was only a moment before the man spoke to us. He spoke with a calm and reassuring voice: “Don’t be afraid! I bring you good news of great joy for everyone! The Savior – yes, the Messiah, the Lord – has been born tonight in Bethlehem, the city of David! And this is how you will recognize Him: you will find a baby lying in a manger, wrapped snugly in strips of cloth!”(1) We were all still trying to understand who and what this being was when, all of a sudden, the sky above us was filled with a vast heavenly host. As if in unison, we all fell to our knees in fear and shielded our eyes from the brilliance that radiated above us. At that point, all of us knew that this was a host of angels – the army of heaven – who had come to bring us great news. The angelic host began praising God, saying:
“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
And peace on earth to all whom God favors!”(2)
As the angels proclaimed their news, it was as if time stopped and everything stood still. Even the sheep surrounding us seemed to bow low. No one – and no thing – was capable of moving. Each one of us was overwhelmed by the sight and enraptured by the news. Not one of us could tell you how long the angelic host remained in our midst. In some ways, it felt like an eternity, but in others, it felt like a fleeting moment. But it was a sight – and a sound – that would forever be indelibly imprinted in our memories.
Then, just as quickly as that host appeared, they disappeared. And for a few moments, we all remained with our gaze fixed on the heavens. Gradually, one by one, we began to look at one another. Almost in unison we said, “Come on, let’s go into Bethlehem! Let’s see this wonderful thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”(3) Then we did something that shepherds never do! We left our flocks unattended in the field. We didn’t stop to secure our sheep into the sheepfold. We didn’t hesitate for one moment. We ran into town to the stable where the angels had directed us.
I recognized the stable as belonging to the carpenter Achim. It was a cave hewn out of rock in the side of the hill. As we approached, we expected to find a large crowd of people gathered to worship the arrival of the newborn Messiah. We expected that all of the religious leaders would be gathered to give praise to God – and perhaps even King Herod himself would be there. This was a great night of rejoicing for our entire nation in celebration and worship. Glory to God in the highest!
So imagine our dumbfounded surprise when we arrived at the stable and saw no one there. Not even Achim and his family were gathered. Only the baby’s mother and father – and a few of the stabled animals – gathered around the baby wrapped in strips of cloth laid in a feeding trough. Surely this wasn’t the place! Surely this wasn’t the Baby! And yet, we knew it was! Where was everyone? Why weren’t the streets filled with celebration? Why were we seemingly the only ones who knew Who this was?
As we entered the stable, the man and woman at first appeared to be startled. I can well imagine they were wondering who are these men invading our private moment with our newborn child? The young girl – obviously the baby’s mother – wasn’t much older than Ayda had been when she and I married. But neither she nor the man, who though he was much older appeared to be her husband, spoke one word to refuse us entry. Though they had momentarily been startled, it was as if they were expecting our arrival.
Shimon was the first to step toward the baby to get a better view. He looked up at the baby’s mother for permission, and she gave him a permissive smile and a nod of her head. The baby’s father then did the same. As I looked at this newborn’s parents, I realized that the expressions on their faces were identical to those on Ayda’s and my faces just two nights before, when our little Eliezer was born. I don’t think we would have been as welcoming to unknown strangers invading our private moment, and yet they were welcoming us. Their faces were expressing their feelings of love, thanksgiving and blessing – and they were inviting us to join in with them.
But I – and the other shepherds – sensed there was something even more. We were entering into an atmosphere of worship and adoration there in that stable. Even the animals seemed to sense it. We told the man and woman about the angelic host. We told them what they had said, and why we had all come. Neither one said anything in response. Instead, the baby’s mother simply smiled a tender smile and, with a knowing look, nodded her head. And immediately, each one of us fell to our knees and worshiped the baby lying in the manger.
Again, time seemed to stand still. Not one of us wanted the moment to end. Our hearts were so full we couldn’t utter a word. And the reality of all that we had heard and were now seeing began to become clearer. The Messiah that the Lord God Jehovah had promised through the prophets of old had now come. The message of His arrival had been delivered to us – a group of shepherds on a hillside. The Messiah that generations had awaited with anticipation was now laying there before our very eyes in an animal’s feeding trough. God had made the announcement through His angels to us! He hadn’t made it to the religious leaders or the king, He had made it to us! He had entrusted the good news of the angelic message to a group of shepherds!
I looked up at the baby’s mother and saw that she was tired. She needed her rest. We needed to leave her, her husband and the baby to their privacy. So quietly, we stood to our feet and reverently backed out of the stable. Shimon was the last to get up. I could see that he was staring into the Baby’s eyes. As I looked closer, I saw that the Baby’s eyes were dark brown, just like Shimon’s. But His eyes had a unique quality about them – particularly for a newborn baby. His eyes were inviting and gentle. They were eyes that welcomed you in and made you feel safe. But they were also eyes that seemed to look right back into your very soul. Everyone knows that newborn babies are not able to focus on what is around them. But this One appeared to be able to do just that! Shimon remained there – he and the Baby seemingly locked in one another’s gaze. After a few moments I softly called out to Shimon to join me.
We all walked back out onto the street. As we made our way toward the fields, we began to talk excitedly among ourselves about all that we had seen, heard and experienced. Our excitement began to bubble over, and the few passersby that we saw stopped to ask us what was happening. We told those who would listen what had happened and what the angel had said to us. Those who heard us seemed to be amazed by our report, but no one seemed interested enough to seek out the newborn baby for themselves. Perhaps the thought that angels would announce the arrival of the Messiah to a group of shepherds was just too astonishing for them to believe, because the word didn’t spread beyond us. But we knew what we had seen and heard, and that truth would remain in our hearts forever!
This morning, my son ran to the stable to check on the newborn baby and his parents. But when he joined me in the field, he told me that no one had been there. The Baby, his mother and his father were gone. None of us had thought to ask the family’s names. None of us knew where they were from. They had probably come to Bethlehem for the census. And though Shimon asked some of the people nearby, no one seemed to know that a family had even been there, let alone who they were, or where they had gone. All that remained in the stable was the manger where the baby had laid, the animals that had surrounded Him, and the memory of a holy moment.
Little did I know the impact that little Baby’s life would have in the days and years to come on me… on our town… and on a world that hadn’t been prepared to welcome Him….
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(1)Luke 2:10-11 NLT
(2)Luke 2:14 NLT
(3)Luke 2:15 NLT
Copyright © 2019 Kenneth A. Winter All rights reserved.
First published on kenwinter.org