The birth narrative of Jesus is one of my favorite stories in Scripture. I love the earthly scene: two scared parents, farm animals, and shepherds. But even more I like to imagine the heavenly scene. I envision Heavenly beings on the edge their seats, watching as their God is born a vulnerable baby.
“Alone of all creeds, Christianity has added courage to the virtues of the Creator,” said G.K. Chesterton. “The need for such courage began with Jesus’ first night on earth and did not end until his last.”
Philip Yancey wrote, “On earth, a baby was born, a king got wind of it; a chase ensued. In heaven, the Great Invasion had begun, a daring raid by the ruler of the forces of good into the universe’s seat of evil. One dark cold night among the hills of Bethlehem these two worlds intersected and came together.”
Everything had changed. This is put beautifully in a poem by an unknown author:
That night when in the Judean skies
the mystic star dispensed its light,
a blind man moved in his sleep-
and dreamed that he had sight!
That night when shepherds heard the song
of hosts angelic choiring near,
a deaf man stirred in slumber’s spell-
and dreamed that he could hear!
That night when in the cattle stall
slept child and mother cheek by jowl,
a cripple turned his twisted limbs-
and dreamed that he was whole!
That night when o’er the newborn babe
the tender Mary rose to lean,
a loathsome leper smiled in sleep-
and dreamed that he was clean!
That night when to the mother’s breast
the little King was held secure,
a harlot slept a happy sleep-
and dreamed that she was pure!
That night when in the manger lay
the sanctified who came to save,
a man moved in the sleep of death-
and dreamed there was no grave!
