The story begins with small details:
Some shepherds (as in, maybe not a lot?),
staying in fields (a lowly job with no real shelter from night-elements),
an all-alone quiet of dark sky.
And then the climax:
Suddenly!
Angel standing with God-glory all around.
Terrible fear mixes with dropped-open mouths.
Good news!
Great joy!
All people!
Today...in Jerusalem...Christ has come!
(And YOU are getting the sign).
Enter questions:
A baby?
A manger?
A sign to shepherds?
Generations of prophecy fulfilled in this one night?
This is not how the noble enter the world,
(but they also don't enter with heaven-choirs exploding in song!).
Can there be anything but wonder when the shepherd story is read?
I see glory words, a multitude of heavenly host, and praise,
and I leave the shepherd scene with God-joy at what was seen from wonder-words recalled.
But feelings of marvel cannot mask the one word that would one day bring the deepest sorrow...
Savior.
Because every birth ends with death,
and Savior's bleed,
This child's death would look nothing like His joyous birth,
and a sword would pierce the soul of the mother who held Him in her arms.
There would be no songs on earth as the cross hangs in silence,
and even fewer tears at His funeral.
Arrogant men with robes of honor would bring gifts of nails, thorns, and gall.
Cloth that had once surrounded baby's birth would lay stripped from the scarred body.
The multitudes surrounding Humility now exposed would burst open with rebuke and taunts.
And all of the wonder would be gone with His last breath.
Because babies grow.
Because some hearts refuse to accept the Humble when the Law requires allegiance to the proud.
The shepherds words had been for another season; a tender story from the long ago.
The manger was gone.
The heavenly host was quiet.
The night was silent.
But the angels would sing again,
because in the distance,....a tomb awaits.
