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With the Christmas season upon us my mind is drawn to this simple poem I penned sometime last year. Perhaps it will place you right into the middle of the world in which dear Mary found herself, contemplating as she did the One in her womb.

Dust swirling ‘round diminutive feet
Broom brushing dust away
Calmly singing, twirling girl
Found unsuspecting, today

All alone she was, she thought
Tending to homey tasks
A presence, a light, peace with fright
Cherubic voice; she gasps

A message bold to simple girl
From Eternity into Time
God in flesh, born to die
Contented womb, the sign

Dust swirling ‘round diminutive feet
Broom brushing dust away
Merrily singing, twirling girl
Found with Child, today
 

I trust you’ll have a very merry Christmas. God bless you! 

Calling Bethlehem crowded was a gross understatement.

It was jam-packed!

People were everywhere, and the sights and sounds and smells overloaded the senses. Maneuvering around those narrow, dusty streets would be a real chore for anyone. But especially an out-of-towner with a very pregnant girl in tow.

To put it quite simply—it was chaos.

Rome had summoned Joseph to head south toward the town of his ancestors. There he was to check in with some government employees no doubt harried and grumbling and ready for the red tape to end. As it turned out, this all had to be done with dear Mary—near the end of her pregnancy—tagging along. Joseph’s integrity took him on the journey despite her condition. And he was too tenderhearted to leave her behind.

People worldwide know the scenario all too well—all that travel in order to stand in a long line so as to be spoken to for two minutes by some grumpy government clerk. “What a waste,” Joseph could have understandably thought. 

But he would have thought wrong. Little did he realize that God Almighty was choosing to use Roman red tape to orchestrate the birth of the Messiah. A census helped bring in the Savior.

Wasn’t it the ancient prophet Micah who set the stage?

But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,
though you are small among the clans of Judah,
out of you will come for me
one who will be ruler over Israel,
whose origins are from of old, from ancient times.

But Joseph probably wouldn’t have understood that. Or if he did know what the prophets of old had said, it may not have been real to him. At least, not until Mary spoke up.
         
“Joseph.”
         
“Yes, Mary.”
         
“It’s time.”

And with that, they wandered the busy streets furiously seeking out a quiet refuge where Mary’s dignity could remain intact while giving birth to this very extraordinary baby. Indeed, the best that could be found was a vulgar chamber used to house animals. Luke offers characteristic simplicity in describing the picture: she gave birth…and placed him in a manger.

Think of Mary’s anxiety! What woman preparing to give birth wouldn’t want the delivery to be as comfortable as can be? And yet she finds herself in a stranger’s stable in a town far from home. Perhaps in the rustic barn’s background are smelly critters looking onward—bewildered by the scene before them. Flies are buzzing about, and from the nearby street could be heard the chaos of the busy crowds.

Why now…in this place?

Poor Joseph certainly had to have been distraught. Tenderhearted as he was, isn’t it likely that he would want the very best for his bride-to-be and her firstborn child? How compassionately he must have worked to make her comfortable while ensuring that she had some semblance of privacy. Did he have to run for help? Did he fall on his knees in frantic prayer? 

King of the universe! Help her now!

One can only presume that she had little or no complications apart from the crude delivery room in which she, her newborn and Joseph found themselves. It is probable that like all good mothers since time began, Mary took her little boy and held him close to her bosom.

Tightly.

Bewildered.

But unlike any other mother in all of time and space, she knew there was something profoundly different about this child. Since this boy’s conception through the mysterious power of the Holy Spirit, He was on an extraordinary earthly mission. There was some eternal purpose behind the birth of this baby. But what, exactly? And drifting off into sleep this weary, new mommy lays the newborn down and reflects on the startling words of that heavenly messenger. She reminds herself of the warm embrace of her older relative, Elizabeth. She ruminates on that joyful expression of thanksgiving Zechariah sung shortly after little John’s birth. And she thinks, too, about her own song—that magnificent hymn brought forth by God’s intimate nurture within her own soul.

The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David…
So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God…
The God of Israel has raised up a horn of salvation for us…

Holy is His name…

And with such reflection upon the previous months—and certainly upon the newborn boy lying asleep in the feeding trough nearby—Mary is startled from her drowsiness with a reminder of what is happening: A Savior is born!

The Savior has been born.

A Savior whose foundations are from eternity.

A Savior so willing to get dirty and meet people where they’re at that He arrives first at a rugged stable and falls asleep in a hay bed.

A Savior whose purpose is to set humanity free from the shame and hurt of sin.
         
And so, gazing with admiration at this little, sleeping boy Jesus, Mary closes her own eyes, now having been reminded that God is at work. God is serious about those whom He has created. He is dedicated to healing their wounds and sparing their souls.

That is why a Savior has been born.

That is why He was born for you.