Meeting Jesus

What kind of God would choose to be born in a barn - a barn in one of the tiniest little towns in the ancient world? What kind of God would choose a peasant girl for His mother and a no-name manual worker for His father? What kind of God would choose a feed trough as His first resting place, farm animals as His first companions?

 
What was it like that night 2000 years ago? – What was it really like?
 
Think of Mary, a woman – possibly just a girl – eight plus months pregnant on the back of a donkey; dirt roads; mountain passes; sun, wind, cold; no shelter, no escape; just miles , miles and more miles; pain, pain and more pain.
 
Less than a year before she had been surrounded by family. Laughing with friends in the streets of her beloved Nazareth, a young woman betrothed to a gentle, godly man with a good trade, the whole world lying at her feet. And now, here she is, a nameless face in the throng of oppressed migration, trekking across merciless terrain, alone except for the kick in her belly, a man as worn as she is, and a promise that the tiny heartbeat within her is that of the Son of the Living God.
 
Think of the sweat dripping down her face, the trail-dust clinging to her cloths, the pregnant swell of her feet and limbs, the endless pounding of every step. Think of her curled up by the night’s campfire, bundled against the cold, her mind and emotions racing: “Surely this is not the way a king is born into the world, let alone Messiah. This is not glory. This is not majesty. Did I hear the angel correctly? But I am pregnant, and there’s no other way. It has to be true… help me, Lord, it hurts!”
 
Have we greatly idealised Mary? The truth is she was a woman with one tremendous asset: a heart after God. But she was a woman no less subject to the same doubt, confusion, fatigue, and fear as any other woman. A woman who had the same choice to make as any other woman: Am I going to walk this day God’s way or my own? Am I going to trust Him – that He is who He says He is, and that His promises are true against all the evidence to the contrary – or am I not?
 
And then there’s her betrothed, Joseph. A man: Good-hearted, compassionate, and no doubt going through the same confusion as Mary, asking himself the very same questions.
 
Picture the two of them lying side by side next to that camp fire, both shaking scared, both doing their best to hide it and be strong for the other. Imagine them having that standard exchange which has been going on between couples since the beginning of time:
 
Mary                    “Are you okay?”
Joseph                 “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Mary                    “Are you sure?”
Joseph                 “No really I’m fine… How about you?”
Mary                     “Fine, fine. Really…!”
 
Think of Joseph the man. His was a very real, day-by-day life 2000 years ago. Think if his humanity, the dirt under his fingernails, the wrinkles on his forehead, the struggle to make ends meet.
 
Put yourself in Joseph’s shoes. Try to imagine that day he went home to his father and announced
Joseph       “Mary’s pregnant, but I’m going to marry her anyway because an angel told me the baby is                       Messiah!”
 
Imagine, further, the day he announced it to his friends. You can imagine that every one of them looked straight at him and thought the exact same thought: Joseph’s gone nuts!
 
You can almost hear his father exploding in a righteous rage,
Father        “Over my dead body, you’ll marry her!”
You can almost see his friends sitting him down a bit more calmly –
Friends      “I know she’s a great girl and all, but the woman’s pregnant, pal. How do you think she got that way? Open your eyes. Walk away.”
 
Joseph’s dad and friends would have had every reason to react that way. A woman pregnant out of wedlock! It would have been blatantly horrifying to their first-century culture, not to mention a crime so grievous under the law of Moses that it was punishable by death.
 
How could God, in His ultimate holiness and purity, choose to birth His Messiah in such an apparently unholy and impure arena?
 
Imagine Joseph sitting alone in his carpenter shop, mulling it all over. The day is done and the red sun is drooping low over the Galilean skyline. Mary, arrives, with a skin of water and a fresh-baked loaf, but he’s so distant today. She picks up a palm branch and begins sweeping up his wood shavings from the afternoons labour. With all the gossip, there aren’t as many shavings as there were two months ago. She notices, but says nothing.
 
He looks at her across the room. He wonders,
 
Joseph       “Did I hear God right? The whole town is laughing. They’re taking their work to other craftsmen. She’s so lovely. My father won’t speak to me. My mother she cries herself to sleep. Did I really hear God? Oh God…”
 
But somehow he makes the right choice. He presses through, day by day. Against all odds, against all sense, against all opposition, he clings singularly to God’s promise and as the days turn into months suddenly finds himself staring at the city gates of his ancestors – Bethlehem.
 
What a night that must have been for Joseph – his wife is going into labour, and he has no place for her to even rest, let along give birth to her child.
 
Joseph       “I want so much to provide for my wife, to take care of her and give her w security and comfort. But here I am and no matter how hard I try, there’s no room, anywhere and no money to convince an innkeeper to make room. There’s no any compassion for my wife and baby – just a city full of slammed doors.”
 
Can you imagine the frustration, the sense of failure? Here he is, facing his first challenge as a husband, and he can’t even put a roof over his wife’s head. Can you imagine the questions racing through his mind:
 
Joseph       “This isn’t going right! Where are you, God? Why aren’t You providing? I’m just trying to do what You’ve asked me to do! Why are You making it so hard?”
 
In a last-ditch effort, he manages to find a stable, possibly a cave. Can you imagine his thoughts, looking into his wife’s eyes, seeing her pain and discomfort as she lies in the dirt and straw, engulfed in  the smell of livestock?
 
And suddenly it’s not just her – it’s the baby - this baby boy whom he has been told to name “God saves” – Jesus – because He “will save people from their sins.” This baby of whom the prophet Isaiah had written centuries before that a virgin would be with child and give birth to a son, and call Him “God with us” – Immanuel. This baby of whom he and his wife had been told months before: He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David, and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever; His kingdom will never end.” Jesus.
 
Birthed in a barn, a place animals are birthed. A dubious place for one who will reign over the house of Jacob.
 
Laid in a trough from which animals eat. A dubious throne for one who will be called the Son of the Most High, whose kingdom will never end. A dubious throne for God-with-us.
 
This is Messiah – King of kings, Lord of lords! Where’s the fanfare? Where are the flashing white lights and jewelled mansions? Where’s the glory?
 
Final Thought
This is My glory, My child: that I love you so much, I gave My son – whom I love so much – to be made lower than the angels, to be made of no reputation, to be humbled, to be made nothing, for you.
A barn.
A peasant girl.
A feed trough.
A carpenter’s son.
For you.
This is My glory, child.
This is majesty.
Jesus
 
 
 
This week’s worship list is available here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHnJn7EgQjAxYIiYMSCv-lco-QGnz61rh