Joseph looked around the stable. From this postion on his knees everything still looked the same, and it smelled the same. Like a stable.
The cow was again starting to meander a bit closer to Mary and the baby (probably out of curiosity), and Joseph rose to his feet and held out an arm to push against its head, making it turn back its course. As he looked briefly glanced into the cow’s black eyes, Joseph almost braced himself for a look af recognition from the beast’s eyes, as if it had come to verbally convey something about this situation. Normally that would be a crazy thing to expect, but this was no normal situation.
It was not too long ago on a calm night like this one Joseph was fast asleep, having another one of his dreams about Mary’s face. That was the only object in this frequently occuring dream, her little face. It seemed in this dream that he had just told her he was going to divorce her, like the words had just filled the air between them. Joseph hated this dream, and it would make him sick to his stomach after he awoke.
Then his sleep and dream seemed to move in another direction, and he stirred as if to awaken, but couldn’t. Something held him asleep, and then that something took light in his dream. It got brighter and brighter and the light seemed to move out of his dream and fill his mind, but he was held fast asleep. And then the light took form in the shape of an angel, and the angel spoke to Joseph.
The angel told him to not leave Mary, but that the Holy Spirit had placed the baby inside her. And that he should name the baby Jesus, and that he would save his people from their sins. Then the words from the angel stopped and the angel left the dream. Then Joseph finally was able to wake up and he laid in the bed, and in the peace that he felt come over him the second the words started from the angel. He could feel the peace remaining in his chest and on his shoulders, like nothing he had ever felt before.
He loved Mary, but after that night Joseph was almost afraid to look at the bump on her belly that was getting bigger by the week. He had developed a new routine for every time they got together. He would look at her face as he greeted her, then quickly down at her belly, and then would never look back down in that direction for the remainder of their conversation. He wasn’t afraid of the baby, or of anything that came from Jehovah, but he just felt he should keep his eyes elsewhere. Joseph was not of a religious order, he just a man who worked with his hands. But he knew who and what he should respect.
But not looking at her belly had gotten much harder the last couple days, and especially on this frantic night, as they had searched from inn to inn. They had made the trip to Bethlehem to register, and now Mary’s head was down and she was crying out; the baby was approaching. With every sound she made Joseph was gripped tighter with anxiety and frustration. He was letting down heaven, derailing the plans of the Most High, because he couldn’t find a inn that had room.
“How can this be the plan of our provider, as He is not providing us a place?” Joseph wondered.
On this cool night Joseph was sweating as they approached the stable, his wife almost unable to stand, his arms around her waist as they walked, under the place that held the centerpiece of the hope of mankind. Joseph staked a clearing in the stable, almost throwing aside animals like his boy would do later in his life in a temple, and he quickly laid the cleanest hay he could find in a manger.
Mary delivered Jesus and then Joseph stood in the dirt beside them, watching Mary and the baby. He watched her hold Jesus, and then she asked if he wanted to hold him too. The first three times she asked he refused, and then accepted the offer the forth time.
Joseph reached out and slid his left hand under the baby’s back over Mary’s hand, and cupped Jesus’ head and his tiny flock of hair with his right hand.
Joseph looked down at the baby in his hands, his little head illuminated by the yellow flickering flame of the lamp. The baby was still quiet but Joseph could feel the baby’s legs moving inside the thick cloth. He looked like a baby, like a normal child he had always seen. Joseph had somehow expected the child to shine with visible light like a magical thing, but He didn’t. He was a baby.
After the frantic last few hours, Joseph felt himself relax. A new peace had come upon him, but not like the one from the experience with the angel. This peace seemed to come from the weight in his arms, as if Joseph was holding Jesus and the sight of Jesus was somehow holding him.
Joseph had felt and seen his faults as a man all his life, and it felt like every one of those faults was packed together and then shown in all their ugliness tonight with the single reality of not being able to find a suitable place for Mary and this child. He felt his inabilities staring at him in the face when he saw Mary’s face earlier tonight, as they had approached the stable. But now here was the baby, at peace. And Joseph was at peace as well.
Heaven still didn’t make sense and no explanations came that answered the last few confusing months. But Joseph stood in this peace, and he accepted it. He held Jesus for a few more minutes, and then he gave the baby back to Mary.
So now Joseph got back on his knees beside his wife next to the wooden manger, and the baby inside lying on the hay. He looked up from the baby to the wooden structure around him, something like he might build, and for the first time in his life felt an advantage in being just a carpenter, in having a simple life. Maybe his simple life might be allowing him to quiet himself and accept all of this. Who would imagine that God would send a savior to His people like this, in this dirty place, with these animals around them? Joseph’s knew his mind wasn’t about to find the answer.
He looked back down to Mary’s eyes, and then to Jesus. Joseph said a few words to Mary as they kept their eyes on the baby. And then they both heard voices in the air behind them.
I don’t know about you, but when I read the Navity story, and really read the story, I almost feel embarrassed. Jesus, the King of Kings, who loves me and has saved my life, came to us in this way. It’s like if I walked outside and a king or a president was cleaning my car. I’d tell them, “Really, you don’t have to do this!”, and I’d try to get the cleaning rag out of their hand as soon as possible. I’d be embarrassed that someone so important was washing my car - it’s just not right. They should never have to do that.
So how can I express thanks for what Jesus did? Not alot comes to mind, but just to love Him and do what He says. He didn’t have to do this, He really didn’t.
