December 25- The Gift
Mary can see a bright light in the North from her place amongst the straw. All she knows is that she is whole. Complete. Her heart is full to the point of bursting. The Child rests against her chest, sleeping at last. The world is silent. The stillness reminds Mary of the quiet after a long exhale. A cow lows as it goes to its haunches and lies down to sleep. If there was a moment of perfection in life – this was it.
Joseph’s eyes drift from Mary and the Child out to the tranquil night. All the other stars in the sky pale in comparison to one lone star in the North. Not even a cricket dares disturb the quiet that seems to be a blanket across the land. They have reached the end of their journey but somehow, Joseph senses this is merely the beginning. The road ahead is one that all of mankind will travel. And the Child? This Child will be the one to lead them.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
From Nazareth to the Manger: Pains
December 24- Pains
Mary’s knuckles are white as she grips the hem of her garment. Her breath is coming fast and hard as she waits for the feeling in her abdomen to pass.
“Hurry, Joseph. The child comes.”
Joseph picks up the pace and keeps his face forward, his eyes searching through the last of the evening light.
“Bethlehem is just around the bend,” he states with more reassurance than he feels. He has said this at least 10 times in the last hour. This time it MUST be true.
As they finally round the bend in the path, Joseph exhales in relief. The town! He almost starts to run but a grunt from Mary as the donkey starts to bounce her up and down reminds him that he cannot do that.
When they finally pass into town, Joseph drops the donkey’s lead and races to the nearest door. Mary bows her head in silent prayer as another pain rocks through her. She can hear Joseph becoming frantic as he inquires at door after door. A few minutes later, the donkey begins to move and Joseph is leading them farther into town. He stops at an inn and pounds on the door with his fists.
“Please! My wife is in pains! We have a child coming! There must be a place!”
As the innkeeper turns him away, Joseph bellows at the sky, “Lord! You must provide!”
Mary does not take her eyes from the ground. The world suddenly seems so silent and still. As the last ounce of her hope and strength drift away, a light breeze cools the sweat above her lip. She hears a soft voice up ahead and to her left.
“There is a place.”
Within in minutes, Joseph is helping her down off the animal. She leans against him as another pain comes upon her. There is straw beneath her feet and the musky smell of sheep. She does not remember how she at last finds a place to lay down. She only knows the hour is at hand and the Child grows inpatient.
Mary’s knuckles are white as she grips the hem of her garment. Her breath is coming fast and hard as she waits for the feeling in her abdomen to pass.
“Hurry, Joseph. The child comes.”
Joseph picks up the pace and keeps his face forward, his eyes searching through the last of the evening light.
“Bethlehem is just around the bend,” he states with more reassurance than he feels. He has said this at least 10 times in the last hour. This time it MUST be true.
As they finally round the bend in the path, Joseph exhales in relief. The town! He almost starts to run but a grunt from Mary as the donkey starts to bounce her up and down reminds him that he cannot do that.
When they finally pass into town, Joseph drops the donkey’s lead and races to the nearest door. Mary bows her head in silent prayer as another pain rocks through her. She can hear Joseph becoming frantic as he inquires at door after door. A few minutes later, the donkey begins to move and Joseph is leading them farther into town. He stops at an inn and pounds on the door with his fists.
“Please! My wife is in pains! We have a child coming! There must be a place!”
As the innkeeper turns him away, Joseph bellows at the sky, “Lord! You must provide!”
Mary does not take her eyes from the ground. The world suddenly seems so silent and still. As the last ounce of her hope and strength drift away, a light breeze cools the sweat above her lip. She hears a soft voice up ahead and to her left.
“There is a place.”
Within in minutes, Joseph is helping her down off the animal. She leans against him as another pain comes upon her. There is straw beneath her feet and the musky smell of sheep. She does not remember how she at last finds a place to lay down. She only knows the hour is at hand and the Child grows inpatient.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
From Nazareth to the Manger: The Holy City
December 23- The Holy City
Joseph was focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The hill he was now attempting seemed to be never ending. At last, Joseph sensed he had reached the zenith. The donkey exhaled. Mary’s breath caught in her throat. Joseph raised his head to examine the scene before him.
Stretched out in the distance was the Holy City of Jerusalem. The city was set on multiple hills. On the highest hill, Mount Moriah, sat the Temple. Its golden dome glittered in the sunlight and put to shame the expanse around it. It was a moment of majesty and the young couple stood in silence, exhausted and in awe.
From her perch on the donkey, Mary sensed a tightening in her abdomen. These small feelings deep in her belly had started this morning. She suffered them in silence, hoping the Child within was merely stretching the confines of His chambers. Now, as she looks upon the Holy City, several of these sensations happen at once. Mary sets her jaw and bows her head. Joseph says nothing, assuming she is taking in the wonderful sight before them.
They cross through the city and take the gate that will lead them on towards Bethlehem. Once on the outskirts they begin to pass shepherds farther up in the hills. Sheep lazily graze on the cool grass above. One shepherd in particular is chasing after a wayward lamb far out on the edges of a cliff. Mary watches as he coaxes it back towards him and then drapes it over his shoulders for the trek back towards the herd. Hours later, another shepherd stands alone and watches as the two of them pass him by. Ever so slightly he nods at the two of them. He seems to be waiting for something. What that may be, Mary does not know.
Looking around, Joseph notes a silence to the air. The birds have gone quiet in the trees as if they were anticipating a change in the weather. The sky overhead was dotted with clouds. The setting sun was casting shadows across the plain that stretched down on Joseph’s left. The world was holding its breath as if anticipating the closure of both the day and an era.
Joseph was focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The hill he was now attempting seemed to be never ending. At last, Joseph sensed he had reached the zenith. The donkey exhaled. Mary’s breath caught in her throat. Joseph raised his head to examine the scene before him.
Stretched out in the distance was the Holy City of Jerusalem. The city was set on multiple hills. On the highest hill, Mount Moriah, sat the Temple. Its golden dome glittered in the sunlight and put to shame the expanse around it. It was a moment of majesty and the young couple stood in silence, exhausted and in awe.
From her perch on the donkey, Mary sensed a tightening in her abdomen. These small feelings deep in her belly had started this morning. She suffered them in silence, hoping the Child within was merely stretching the confines of His chambers. Now, as she looks upon the Holy City, several of these sensations happen at once. Mary sets her jaw and bows her head. Joseph says nothing, assuming she is taking in the wonderful sight before them.
They cross through the city and take the gate that will lead them on towards Bethlehem. Once on the outskirts they begin to pass shepherds farther up in the hills. Sheep lazily graze on the cool grass above. One shepherd in particular is chasing after a wayward lamb far out on the edges of a cliff. Mary watches as he coaxes it back towards him and then drapes it over his shoulders for the trek back towards the herd. Hours later, another shepherd stands alone and watches as the two of them pass him by. Ever so slightly he nods at the two of them. He seems to be waiting for something. What that may be, Mary does not know.
Looking around, Joseph notes a silence to the air. The birds have gone quiet in the trees as if they were anticipating a change in the weather. The sky overhead was dotted with clouds. The setting sun was casting shadows across the plain that stretched down on Joseph’s left. The world was holding its breath as if anticipating the closure of both the day and an era.
From Nazareth to the Manger: Fighting Fatigue
December 22 - Fighting Fatigue
The wind blew across the road and the arid desert swirled around Mary and Joseph. Since leaving Sychar, the hills have gotten higher and higher. His feet cracked and near bleeding, Joseph stumbles over a rock and barely catches himself before he falls. His water pouch is almost empty. Above him on the animal, Mary’s head chin rests on her chest. She’s exhausted and beyond trying to hide it.
At this stage in the journey there is nothing to do but press on. Turning back to Sychar would mean facing going down the steep slopes they just went up. Joseph could not stand the thought of leading the donkey down those slopes. Mary would have to walk and Joseph did not think she was capable of standing upright at this point. The next stop would be Bethel followed by Jerusalem and then, finally, Bethlehem. Joseph glanced at the sky, silently asking for a sign or a voice or a dream that would urge him on. The only thing that met his ears was the sound of the wind and the trod of the donkey at his side. Little did he know that God was preparing to reveal Himself in the most profound way mankind had ever encountered.
There are times along our journey when we have no choice but to press on. It is during these times when we must trust God to provide a way along the path. Have you ever asked for a sign only to receive what you perceive as silence? Do not fear! Our Lord is never truly silent but always preparing the way ahead of us so that we might witness His glory!
The wind blew across the road and the arid desert swirled around Mary and Joseph. Since leaving Sychar, the hills have gotten higher and higher. His feet cracked and near bleeding, Joseph stumbles over a rock and barely catches himself before he falls. His water pouch is almost empty. Above him on the animal, Mary’s head chin rests on her chest. She’s exhausted and beyond trying to hide it.
At this stage in the journey there is nothing to do but press on. Turning back to Sychar would mean facing going down the steep slopes they just went up. Joseph could not stand the thought of leading the donkey down those slopes. Mary would have to walk and Joseph did not think she was capable of standing upright at this point. The next stop would be Bethel followed by Jerusalem and then, finally, Bethlehem. Joseph glanced at the sky, silently asking for a sign or a voice or a dream that would urge him on. The only thing that met his ears was the sound of the wind and the trod of the donkey at his side. Little did he know that God was preparing to reveal Himself in the most profound way mankind had ever encountered.
There are times along our journey when we have no choice but to press on. It is during these times when we must trust God to provide a way along the path. Have you ever asked for a sign only to receive what you perceive as silence? Do not fear! Our Lord is never truly silent but always preparing the way ahead of us so that we might witness His glory!
Saturday, December 21, 2013
From Nazareth to the Manger: Searching in Sychar
December 21 – Searching in Sychar
After several days, the journey to Bethlehem becomes more challenging. The road curves back and forth as it ascends and descends the hills and mountains of central Israel. The half-way point is marked by the city of Sychar. Three soldiers stand outside the entrance to the city at what was once Jacob’s well. Little does Mary know but her Son will one day meet a Samaritan woman here. The living water He will offer will alter her life forever.
The soldiers stop different small groups here and there, searching the faces of the middle aged men who passed. From time to time, they turn to each other and make cryptic statements.
“Not that one. He’s too young.”
“That one’s too old. King Herod said he would be in his prime.”
“This one seems weak. It would not be him.”
They are looking for someone. Something about this frightens Mary and her breath catches in her throat. The soldiers approach. They look at her, the donkey, and Joseph. A glance passes between the men and, for a moment, Mary thinks she sees a grimace on the face of the soldier in charge.
“Move on,” he states simply and his hand left passes in front of him. His countenance shifts from questioning to annoyance. They pick up the pace.
The noise of the crowds overwhelms Joseph as they step inside the city gates. They are both exhausted and in need of food. The bread Anne made ran out yesterday. Joseph had been silently refilling Mary’s water pouch from his own during the long, hot days and the crack in his lower is widening. They need provisions and Sychar is the place to find them.
As they walk past stalls selling finery and food, Joseph’s brow is knitted in concern. Perhaps they should not have come. Who would have known that Joseph’s family was not of Nazareth? He could have been counted there. They were half way to Bethlehem and the journey had been hard but the donkey had made it possible. Despite her protests, the dark circles around Mary’s eyes revealed her fatigue. They could still fall ill or be robbed. The donkey could become lame and then what would they do?
Joseph sighs. The weight of his worry makes his shoulders ache as they purchase bread and fish. The two of them would branch off from the caravan at this point and head farther south. As they make their way to the southern gate and the road that would take them on to their destination, Joseph silently asks God for strength and protection. The next few days will be the most dangerous part and it will take a miracle if they are to stave off all the potential hardships.
After several days, the journey to Bethlehem becomes more challenging. The road curves back and forth as it ascends and descends the hills and mountains of central Israel. The half-way point is marked by the city of Sychar. Three soldiers stand outside the entrance to the city at what was once Jacob’s well. Little does Mary know but her Son will one day meet a Samaritan woman here. The living water He will offer will alter her life forever.
The soldiers stop different small groups here and there, searching the faces of the middle aged men who passed. From time to time, they turn to each other and make cryptic statements.
“Not that one. He’s too young.”
“That one’s too old. King Herod said he would be in his prime.”
“This one seems weak. It would not be him.”
They are looking for someone. Something about this frightens Mary and her breath catches in her throat. The soldiers approach. They look at her, the donkey, and Joseph. A glance passes between the men and, for a moment, Mary thinks she sees a grimace on the face of the soldier in charge.
“Move on,” he states simply and his hand left passes in front of him. His countenance shifts from questioning to annoyance. They pick up the pace.
The noise of the crowds overwhelms Joseph as they step inside the city gates. They are both exhausted and in need of food. The bread Anne made ran out yesterday. Joseph had been silently refilling Mary’s water pouch from his own during the long, hot days and the crack in his lower is widening. They need provisions and Sychar is the place to find them.
As they walk past stalls selling finery and food, Joseph’s brow is knitted in concern. Perhaps they should not have come. Who would have known that Joseph’s family was not of Nazareth? He could have been counted there. They were half way to Bethlehem and the journey had been hard but the donkey had made it possible. Despite her protests, the dark circles around Mary’s eyes revealed her fatigue. They could still fall ill or be robbed. The donkey could become lame and then what would they do?
Joseph sighs. The weight of his worry makes his shoulders ache as they purchase bread and fish. The two of them would branch off from the caravan at this point and head farther south. As they make their way to the southern gate and the road that would take them on to their destination, Joseph silently asks God for strength and protection. The next few days will be the most dangerous part and it will take a miracle if they are to stave off all the potential hardships.
From Nazareth to the Manger: Raising the Son
December 20 – Raising the Son
On day three of the voyage, Mary began ponder the child as He wrestled in the ever tighter confines of her womb. He had been particularly active the last few days; stirring when the motion of the donkey stopped as they rested at a well; kicking when Mary patted her belly absentmindedly. Mary had the innate sense those feet would travel roads far longer than these. The young mother in her already started to fret about where those roads might lead.
Joseph noticed the absent look in Mary’s face from time to time as if she were far away in her own mind. He worried that perhaps she was tired or in pain, but after she denied such things half a dozen times he kept his concern to himself. He waited patiently for her to share her heart with him as they paused one night alongside the road.
Mary’s back curved into the aromatic wood of a tree trunk. She had her eyes closed. Joseph thought she slept and it was only when she opened her mouth to speak that he realized she was merely deep in her own musings.
“Do you think He will speak right away? Or will He grow as other children do? What should I do when He is bad? Do I have the right to discipline the Son of God or do I trust that God will do that Himself?”
Joseph was amazed at this! Mary spoke as if she had seen into his heart and merely given voice to his own concerns.
“For my life, I do not know”, Joseph replied. “Today, as the sun stretched overhead, I watched other fathers and their children. A man put his son on his shoulders and I marveled as the boy stretch his hands to the clouds. I wondered: if I put this Son on my shoulders, will He actually touch heaven?”
Mary opened her eyes. Her gaze drifted from the road to the clump of bushes straight ahead. A gentle wind caused their leaves to rustle in the newborn softness of the night. At last, her face turned toward Joseph’s and they stared at each other for a long moment, exchanging wordless questions and formless reassurance. They would be together and they would do whatever God asked of them. The Son of Man could not raise Himself. If He could, why be born at all?
On day three of the voyage, Mary began ponder the child as He wrestled in the ever tighter confines of her womb. He had been particularly active the last few days; stirring when the motion of the donkey stopped as they rested at a well; kicking when Mary patted her belly absentmindedly. Mary had the innate sense those feet would travel roads far longer than these. The young mother in her already started to fret about where those roads might lead.
Joseph noticed the absent look in Mary’s face from time to time as if she were far away in her own mind. He worried that perhaps she was tired or in pain, but after she denied such things half a dozen times he kept his concern to himself. He waited patiently for her to share her heart with him as they paused one night alongside the road.
Mary’s back curved into the aromatic wood of a tree trunk. She had her eyes closed. Joseph thought she slept and it was only when she opened her mouth to speak that he realized she was merely deep in her own musings.
“Do you think He will speak right away? Or will He grow as other children do? What should I do when He is bad? Do I have the right to discipline the Son of God or do I trust that God will do that Himself?”
Joseph was amazed at this! Mary spoke as if she had seen into his heart and merely given voice to his own concerns.
“For my life, I do not know”, Joseph replied. “Today, as the sun stretched overhead, I watched other fathers and their children. A man put his son on his shoulders and I marveled as the boy stretch his hands to the clouds. I wondered: if I put this Son on my shoulders, will He actually touch heaven?”
Mary opened her eyes. Her gaze drifted from the road to the clump of bushes straight ahead. A gentle wind caused their leaves to rustle in the newborn softness of the night. At last, her face turned toward Joseph’s and they stared at each other for a long moment, exchanging wordless questions and formless reassurance. They would be together and they would do whatever God asked of them. The Son of Man could not raise Himself. If He could, why be born at all?
From Nazareth to the Manger: A Glimpse
December 19- A Glimpse
During the first day of the journey, Joseph kept his eyes ahead on the road as he walked next to the donkey. When he addressed Mary, he looked up but never directly into her eyes. Mary kept her gaze downcast. These were small rules they had adjusted to in the previous months. A formality, so to speek. Now, slowly, Joseph was stealing glances in her direction and several times they had gazed at each other briefly, as if they shared a common secret.
“So this is what it will be like”, thought Mary contentedly. “I will be a wife who looks into her husband’s face and speaks to him in quiet tones while he handles business. I will wash my children and the linens. Joseph and I will come together over the common hardships of life as we are uniting during this journey. This is a glimpse at marriage. This is a taste of my life.” Mary looked around at the scene before her and took in the soft, musky scent of ripening olives.
The slow ascent from the Jezreel Valley took them past mile upon mile of olive trees. The olive trees spoke silent testimony to the unborn child. Oil from olives produced by these very trees would anoint kings and sacred objects. In coming years, the Child would be anointed, not by a priest or prophet, but twice – once by a prostitute (Luke 7:36-50) and once by Lazarus’s sister (John 11:1-2). He will be a King but not one of gold and riches. He will come to lift up the lowly and untouchable.
During the first day of the journey, Joseph kept his eyes ahead on the road as he walked next to the donkey. When he addressed Mary, he looked up but never directly into her eyes. Mary kept her gaze downcast. These were small rules they had adjusted to in the previous months. A formality, so to speek. Now, slowly, Joseph was stealing glances in her direction and several times they had gazed at each other briefly, as if they shared a common secret.
“So this is what it will be like”, thought Mary contentedly. “I will be a wife who looks into her husband’s face and speaks to him in quiet tones while he handles business. I will wash my children and the linens. Joseph and I will come together over the common hardships of life as we are uniting during this journey. This is a glimpse at marriage. This is a taste of my life.” Mary looked around at the scene before her and took in the soft, musky scent of ripening olives.
The slow ascent from the Jezreel Valley took them past mile upon mile of olive trees. The olive trees spoke silent testimony to the unborn child. Oil from olives produced by these very trees would anoint kings and sacred objects. In coming years, the Child would be anointed, not by a priest or prophet, but twice – once by a prostitute (Luke 7:36-50) and once by Lazarus’s sister (John 11:1-2). He will be a King but not one of gold and riches. He will come to lift up the lowly and untouchable.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)