The night he was born was dark and chilly, but not without the companionship of many men and beasts. His mother, Mary, lifted him gently from the manger, from his bed of hay, and held him close, whispering songs of praise to God at the birth of the Messiah. However, with a great and loud voice, his father, Joseph, declared,” His name will be Jesus,” as three men drew closer in reverence, presenting their gifts before the child, the King.
One gift was gold, another frankincense, and another myrrh, symbols of stages of the life he was willingly bound to lead. They knelt before the baby and proclaimed,” Glory to God!” with immense joy and hope overflowing. The cattle, the sheep, and the owl alike lifted their voices in a strange chorus of agreement as the wind whistled softly about the odd gathering.
And the humble shepherds in the throng were glad at the birth of one of their own, the Shepherd, and the savior of their souls. Despite the splinters on the wooden canes, the dirt sticking to their rag clothes, and their bare feet, they were content in his presence.
Eventually, the boy became a man, strong and bold, stable in his faith and intimate with God. He taught the truth, despite much protesting, and grew in amount of followers and haters.
Now, the haters were bitter and resentful, unable to believe the truths taught by Jesus. Their hatred grew to the extent of plotting the murder of the Son of God. And murder they did attempt a multitude of times. Yet, God was with Jesus as he preached the gospel to any who would willingly listen. He healed the sick and raised the dead.