The Birth
For the census, the royal family had to travel 85 miles. Joseph walked, while Mary, nine
months pregnant, rides sidesaddle on a donkey, feeling every jolt, every rut, every rock in
the road.
By the time they arrived, the small hamlet of Bethlehem is swollen by an influx of
travelers. The inn is packed, people feeling lucky if they were able to negotiate a small
place on the floor. Now it is late, everyone is asleep and there is no room.
But fortunately, the innkeeper is not all shekels and mite.
True, the stable is crowded with the guest(s) animals but if they could squeeze a little
privacy there, they were welcome to it.
Joseph looks over at Mary, whose attention is concentrated on fighting a contraction.
�We�ll take it�, he tells the innkeeper without hesitation.
The night is still when Joseph creaks opens the stable door. As he does, a chorus of barn
animals make a discordant note of the intrusion. The stench is pungent and humid, as
there has not been enough hours in the day to tend the guest, let alone the livestock.
The small oil lamp, lent by the innkeeper, flickers to dance shadows on the walls. A
disquieting place for a woman in the throes of childbirth. Far from home. Far from
family. Far from what she had expected for her first born.
But Mary makes no complaint. It is a relief just to finally get off the donkey. She leans
back against the wall, her feet swollen, back aching, contractions growing stronger and
closer together.
Joseph�s eyes dart around the stable. Not a minute to lose. Quickly. A feeding trough
wood have to make due for a crib. Hay would have to serve as a mattress. Blankets?
Blankets? ah, his robe. That would do. And those rags hung out to dry would help. A
gripping contraction doubles Mary over and sends him racing for a bucket of water.
The birth would not be easy, either for the mother or the child. For every royal privilege
ended at conception.
A scream from Mary knifes through the quiet of that silent night. Joseph returns,
breathless, water sloshing from the wooden bucket. The top of the baby�s head has
already pushed its way into the world.
Sweat pours from Mary�s contorted face as Joseph, the most unlikely midwife in all
Judea rushes to her side.
The involuntary contractions are not enough, and Mary has to push with all her strength,
almost as if God refusing to come into the world without her help.
Joseph places a garment beneath her, and with a final push and a long sigh her labor is
over.
The Messiah has arrived.
Elongated head from the constricted journey through the birth canal. Light skin, as the
pigment would take days or even weeks to surface. Mucus in his ears and nostrils. Wet
and slippery from the amniotic fluid. The Son of the Most High God umbilically tied to a
lowly Jewish girl.
The baby chokes and coughs. Joseph instinctively turns him over and clears his throat.
Then he cry�s. Mary bares her breast and reaches for the shivering baby. She lays him on
her chest, and his helpless cry�s subside. His tiny head bobs around on the unfamiliar
terrain. This will be the first thing the infantking learned. Mary can feel his racing
heartbeat as he gropes to nurse.
Deity nursing from a young maidens breast�s. Could anything be more puzzling--or more
profound?
Joseph sits exhausted, silent, full of wonder.
The baby finishes and sighs, the divine Word reduced to a few unintelligible sounds.
Then , for the first time, his eyes fix on his mother�s. Deity straining to focus.
The Light of the World, squinting.
Tears pool in her eyes. She touches his tiny hand. And hands that once sculpted
mountains ranges cling to her finger.
She looks up at Joseph, and through a watery veil their souls touch. He crowds closer,
cheek to cheek with his betrothed.
Together they stair in awe at the baby Jesus, who�s heavy eyelids begin to close. It has
been a long journey. The King is tired.
And so with barely a ripple of notice, God stepped into the warm lake of humanity.
Without protocol and without pretension.
Where you would have expected angels, there were only fly�s. Where you would have
expected heads of state, there was only donkeys, a few haltered cows, a nervous ball of
sheep, a tethered camel, and a furtive scurry of furious barn mice.
Except for Joseph, there was no one to share Mary�s pain.
Or her joy.
Yes, there were angels announcing the Savior�s arrival--but only to a band of blue-collar
shepherds. And yes, a magnificent star shone in the sky to mark his birth place--but only
three foreigners bothered to look up and follow it.
Thus, in the little town of Bethlehem...That one silent night...The royal birth of God�s
Son tiptoed quietly by...as the world slept.
by: Ken Gire, Intimate Moments with the Savior
By the time they arrived, the small hamlet of Bethlehem is swollen by an influx of travelers. The inn is packed, people feeling lucky if they were able to negotiate a small place on the floor. Now it is late, everyone is asleep and there is no room.
But fortunately, the innkeeper is not all shekels and mite. True, the stable is crowded with the guest(s) animals but if they could squeeze a little privacy there, they were welcome to it.
Joseph looks over at Mary, whose attention is concentrated on fighting a contraction. �We�ll take it�, he tells the innkeeper without hesitation.
The night is still when Joseph creaks opens the stable door. As he does, a chorus of barn animals make a discordant note of the intrusion. The stench is pungent and humid, as there has not been enough hours in the day to tend the guest, let alone the livestock.
The small oil lamp, lent by the innkeeper, flickers to dance shadows on the walls. A disquieting place for a woman in the throes of childbirth. Far from home. Far from family. Far from what she had expected for her first born.
But Mary makes no complaint. It is a relief just to finally get off the donkey. She leans back against the wall, her feet swollen, back aching, contractions growing stronger and closer together.
Joseph�s eyes dart around the stable. Not a minute to lose. Quickly. A feeding trough wood have to make due for a crib. Hay would have to serve as a mattress. Blankets? Blankets? ah, his robe. That would do. And those rags hung out to dry would help. A gripping contraction doubles Mary over and sends him racing for a bucket of water. The birth would not be easy, either for the mother or the child. For every royal privilege ended at conception.
A scream from Mary knifes through the quiet of that silent night. Joseph returns, breathless, water sloshing from the wooden bucket. The top of the baby�s head has already pushed its way into the world.
Sweat pours from Mary�s contorted face as Joseph, the most unlikely midwife in all Judea rushes to her side.
The involuntary contractions are not enough, and Mary has to push with all her strength, almost as if God refusing to come into the world without her help. Joseph places a garment beneath her, and with a final push and a long sigh her labor is over.
The Messiah has arrived.
Elongated head from the constricted journey through the birth canal. Light skin, as the pigment would take days or even weeks to surface. Mucus in his ears and nostrils. Wet and slippery from the amniotic fluid. The Son of the Most High God umbilically tied to a lowly Jewish girl.
The baby chokes and coughs. Joseph instinctively turns him over and clears his throat. Then he cry�s. Mary bares her breast and reaches for the shivering baby. She lays him on her chest, and his helpless cry�s subside. His tiny head bobs around on the unfamiliar terrain. This will be the first thing the infantking learned. Mary can feel his racing heartbeat as he gropes to nurse.
Deity nursing from a young maidens breast�s. Could anything be more puzzling--or more profound?
Joseph sits exhausted, silent, full of wonder.
The baby finishes and sighs, the divine Word reduced to a few unintelligible sounds.
Then , for the first time, his eyes fix on his mother�s. Deity straining to focus.
The Light of the World, squinting.
Tears pool in her eyes. She touches his tiny hand. And hands that once sculpted mountains ranges cling to her finger.
She looks up at Joseph, and through a watery veil their souls touch. He crowds closer, cheek to cheek with his betrothed.
Together they stair in awe at the baby Jesus, who�s heavy eyelids begin to close. It has been a long journey. The King is tired.
And so with barely a ripple of notice, God stepped into the warm lake of humanity. Without protocol and without pretension.
Where you would have expected angels, there were only fly�s. Where you would have expected heads of state, there was only donkeys, a few haltered cows, a nervous ball of sheep, a tethered camel, and a furtive scurry of furious barn mice.
Except for Joseph, there was no one to share Mary�s pain.
Or her joy.
Yes, there were angels announcing the Savior�s arrival--but only to a band of blue-collar shepherds. And yes, a magnificent star shone in the sky to mark his birth place--but only three foreigners bothered to look up and follow it.
Thus, in the little town of Bethlehem...That one silent night...The royal birth of God�s Son tiptoed quietly by...as the world slept.
by: Ken Gire, Intimate Moments with the Savior
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