The View from Above by Steph Beth Nickel

The Heavenly Host waited in the wings, watching a remarkable scene unfold before them. Their commander was announcing the Messiah's birth to a group of shepherds. Shepherds! Who could have imagined it? Who except the Lord God Himself?

"Can you believe it?" The angel may have looked imposing, but he was full of questions.

"Of course I can. After all, this is what ADONAI said would happen," his closest companion said.

"But Mashiach, the Messiah, born in the obscure little town of His earthly ancestors ... That, in itself, is almost unbelievable. The Saviour born to an unassuming virgin, to be raised by a carpenter."

The angel stretched his wings. "The prophets of old proclaimed all these things."

"They did. But who could have imagined it would all come together this way?"

The second angel turned his attention to the commander. "Do not be afraid," he began.

"Easier said than done," the angel whispered.

"What was that?" the first angel asked.

"There they are. Shepherds watching over what must be the most stubborn and foolish creatures the Creator ever made. These humans have to keep the sheep from being eaten by wolves and bears through every watch of the night, no matter the weather or time of year. Wolves and bears ... who would just as likely make off with one of the shepherds if they were half as oblivious as their charges. The shepherds may not be afraid of the predators, but when the commander appears to them, lighting up the night sky, how must they feel about a directive not to be afraid?"

The second angel considered that for a moment. "You're right. Just one more mystery we must accept by faith."

"You will find an infant wrapped in strips of cloth ..."

The first angel shook his head. "Yeshua exchanging His royal robes for strips of cloth. Isaiah had it right when he said ADONAI Elyon's plans are higher than the plans of all humanity."

"And His thoughts higher than theirs."

The angel nodded. "Look at those men. Huddling in fear despite the commander telling them not to fear and his promise of Good News and great joy."

His companion smiled broadly. "Can you imagine how they would feel if ADONAI stood before them?"

"And, in a way, they will soon be standing before Him." He shook his head in wonder.

"And here I thought I was the one thinking clearly. That may be the most profound thing you've ever said."

"ADONAI Elohim gives us wisdom and promises it to the men and women He created—"

"That's the only way they have any hope of grasping what's going on tonight."

The first angel nodded again.

The second held up his hand. "The commander has said all the Lord instructed him to."

"And now we get to join in the most amazing event since creation. I wonder if people will write about this night."

"For millennia to come, I'm sure."

With that, they joined the rest of their company proclaiming, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth shalom to men of good will."

Scripture taken from the Holy Scriptures, Tree of Life Version*. Copyright © 2014,2016 by the Tree of Life Bible Society.  Used by permission of the Tree of Life Bible Society.

Pregnant, Alone, and Scared On Christmas Eve by Bob Jones

The darkest night of my life and I was alone and scared. My little girl dreams of this moment always included my mother. But she was a long ways away. It wasn’t supposed to be like this - a cold cave at the end of an arduous journey with a baby on the way.

 

More than a week earlier my betrothed and I left our hometown of Nazareth, in the northern highlands of Galilee. We travelled 90 miles to the town of his ancestors: south along the flatlands of the Jordan River, then west over the hills surrounding Jerusalem, and into Bethlehem.

 

I lost count of all the ups and downs on our journey. Hills and more hills. The temperature was in the 30s during the day and it rained like heck. Nasty. Miserable. And we had to snuggle tight at night to keep from freezing. The dawn awoke us more than once to snow. Our trip took almost nine days, twice the usual time because of my pregnancy. Heavy, woolen cloaks were all that protected our bodies from the rain and snow. Tube-like socks given to us by our neighbour and the enclosed shoes kept our feet dry.

 

One of the most terrifying dangers we faced was the heavily forested valley of the Jordan River. The threat of bandits and ambush haunted us every day. We were aware of the lions, wild boars, and bears native to those woods. Fortunately, we didn’t see any, or they didn’t see us.

We appreciated our daily bread. Breakfast was dried bread; lunch was oil with bread; dinner was herbs with oil and… bread. The diet gave me the giggles as it made me think of manna in the wilderness.

Finally, we arrived in Bethlehem and none too soon. We had just settled into our makeshift accommodations – a cave housing livestock - when my water broke. Poor Joseph. He rushed out looking for a midwife. I was so grateful for other pilgrims who were aware of my plight and stayed with me until he returned. When the contractions came, I forgot all about the noise and dirt surrounding me. I wished the woman at my side was my mother.

 

I felt life being ripped from me. But this little one had to live. Even if I died, he must live. Oh, Jehovah, let it be. The contractions kept coming in waves and there was less and less time between them to try and relax. And then it was over. Or was it just beginning?

 

“…and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.” Luke 2:7 (NIV)

 

I write to grow hope, inspire people to be real, forge an authentic faith in Jesus, and discover their life purpose.

Please follow my writing at REVwords.com

I would love to hear from you.

 

 

Photo by Megan Johnston on Unsplash

The Lamb by Marcia Lee Laycock

I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter around me as I peered at the fire where my father and uncle and the other shepherds sat. I thought of trying to get closer but knew I’d only get a clout for my efforts so I remained where I was, cold and miserable with not even a dream to warm the night.

Father was still angry with me. I was thinking of relenting, letting him take back the lamb he’d given me. But it was a pure, unspotted lamb, so unlike all the others in the flock, that were marred in some way. This one was good enough to be taken to the market and sold for a good price. That’s why father wanted to take it back.

But it was my lamb. He’d promised it to me, for working with him for so long with little recompense. He’d been promising me a lamb of my own for some time and I kept reminding him of his promise until finally, he’d said, “Yes, yes, the next one born is yours.” I think he only said it to be rid of me and my pestering, but I was thrilled. I was there when the ewe gave birth and reminded my father again, of his promise, just in case he’d choose to forget. He nodded his head without examining the tiny thing.

Later I saw his eyes light up when he realized what a prize it was and he wasted no time telling me he wanted to sell it. But it had become precious to me and I refused to give it up, even though I knew the shekels would mean food in our bellies for some time to come. Father was furious but I still refused. I wanted my own flock one day and this spotless lamb would be a good start. I didn’t trust him to keep his word, so I kept the wee thing tethered to me, day and night. No, I would not give it up. It was mine. I tugged it closer for warmth and was just about to lay my head down to try and sleep when a strange light made me sit up.

A tall man stood there, his very clothes bursting with white light. I could not see his face clearly, for the brilliance of it. My father and uncle and the other shepherds were on their feet, clustered together, some of them starting to back away from the strange apparition.

Then it spoke and we all fall on our faces.

“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:10-12, NIV)

When it vanished the whole sky blazed. Angels! My mouth dropped open at the sight, my ears rang with the sound as they glorified God and bestowed peace upon us, we dirty, ragged shepherds.

When they were gone my father and the others all agreed – and that was an unheard of thing – but they agreed there was only one thing to be done: find the child! I lifted my lamb onto my shoulders and followed them, stumbling in the darkness but eager to see the wonder of an infant Messiah.

I expected he would be in a palace of some kind and despaired of ever getting close enough to see him, even if my father did allow it, but when we found the place it was as humble a dwelling as any you could discover. The child’s father was a bit hesitant at first, when such a rag-tag group arrived, but when my father told him about the angels he waved us closer. I stuck my head between my father and my uncle, expecting to get a swat but my father moved aside, put his arm across my shoulders and, drawing me close, spoke quietly in my ear.

“Why we have been chosen, my son, I cannot fathom, but we must study this scene, commit every detail to memory so that we can tell everyone we meet. The Messiah has come!”

I clutched the spotless lamb to my breast and did as he said, noting the soft features of the young woman holding the child who was wrapped, as the angel had said, in bands of cloth. He looked so ordinary, cried so like any other child, but I knew, deep in my soul that he was no common infant.

The lamb bleated in my arms. I looked down at it and knew what I should do. Without hesitation I loosed the tether from my wrist and laid the lamb before him. The woman’s smile widened and she nodded. But when she glanced down at the animal again I noted the smile faded and a sadness lay in her eyes. I wondered at it then.

It would be many years before I would understand. My gift no doubt reminded her there would be pain and sorrow ahead.

For this child was, indeed, a pure and spotless lamb. The lamb of God who would be sacrificed to take away the sins of the world.

 

Fictional Stories of the First Christmas by Sandi Somers

Several years ago, our InScribe bloggers wrote compelling fictional stories of a person involved in Jesus’ death and resurrection. These stories became the core of our 2021 anthology Easter Stories and More.

Judging by the popularity of that concept, we’re reintroducing the fictional theme for Christmas, each of us writing part of the story of Jesus’ birth from the perspective of one of the characters.

~ ~ ~

The Governor’s Dream

Palestine is in chaos. Judea lies heavy under the foot of Rome. Caesar Augustus has required a census, and everyone had to register in their ancestral city. My Jews, these troublesome people, complained that this was just another tax grab for the Emperor. Violent uprisings and revolts exploded all over the province. They grumbled that they’d have to walk for days through this bitter winter to reach their far-away cities.

Was there ever a governor as troubled as I? I Quirinius, Governor of the Jews—and all of Syria. I, too, was in chaos as I trained census takers, managed all the paperwork and tried to quell the violence in the most unexpected places. Why couldn't Rome have asked them to register in their own towns? It would have been so much easier.

~ ~ ~

And now I sleep, a troubled sleep. 

I see masses of people crisscrossing the country like ants disturbed from their ant hill. Donkeys. People loaded with food and provisions. Even a pregnant woman full term! In the darkness of night, cities are congested. Towns are crowded. Bethlehem is overflowing.

Watch dogs bark. The travellers jostle for rooms. People with short tempers shout and swear. Doors slam. “No room. No room! No room!!” Someone shakes me and demands I give them room.

“Wake up, Quirinius!” My wife is shaking me. “You’re having a bad dream. Why are you shouting, ‘No room! I can’t give them room!’?”

My thoughts begin to clear, and I try to understand what this dream means. Who is this pregnant woman? Why are so many people heading to Bethlehem - a small nondescript city? Why can no one give her a room? Even I would have let her sleep in my winter home.

“Go back to sleep,” my wife urges. “The census will soon be over and you can get back to governing in peace.”

~ ~ ~

I toss and turn and eventually fall asleep. 

I see a dark stable, but a holy light begins to glow. Cows moo and an infant sleeps. What indignity that this infant was born in a stable, of all places!

The night begins to grow bright. A messenger in flight hovers over shepherds outside Bethlehem. The shepherds fall to the ground, terrified. I hear them exclaim, “An angel! An angel! We're dead!”

The messenger touches me and his command reverberates in my ears. “Fear not! Rise up! Rise up! For he is come!”

My wife is standing over me. “Quirinius! Quirinius! You’re shouting again, ‘Why should I rise up? Come out! Come out!’”

My body is shuddering. I'm dripping with perspiration. My bed covers lie all twisted on the floor. As my wife picks them up and straightens them out, she laments, “This census is really getting to you like nothing else has. I’ll bring you tea so you can go back to sleep—peacefully this time."

I change my clothes. As the tea and my wife's presence soothe me, I ask, “Why did my dream continue? What can all of this mean?”

~ ~ ~

I fall asleep again. I dream. 

A bright star lights up the sky, brighter than any star I’ve ever seen. I see a Temple. A cross. An empty tomb. A melodic harp. A great choir sings, “Glory to God in the highest!” It’s a most beautiful song. “Good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people!” The voices continue towards a crescendo, joined by millions of singers, “He is Holy. He has come. Rise up! Rise up!”

I awaken. Early morning sunlight streams into my room. My wife is no longer beside me. She has gone to sleep in another room. 

Something has changed. The God of this Judea has told me to rise up. Peace floods me. Although I don’t understand what it all means, I know the Holy One has come to me. 

~ ~ ~

This story was inspired by the song, “A Governor’s Dream,” by Roger Whittaker (1936- ), and is based on Luke’s reference to Jesus’ birth during the time of Quirinius, Governor of Syria. I first heard “A Governor’s Dream” at a Roger Whittaker concert when he was at the height of his popularity in the 1970s. It still brings emotion as I replay it during the Christmas season. Listen to the song here.