Dear Luke,
The birth of any infant brings
joy—I have seen that in my own life, my heart pounding as I awaited the news
that my child was safe and healthy. I
can certainly understand the celebration of the community for Elizabeth and
Zechariah; our own community gathered around us in our time and shared with us
in the joy. It bears a stark contrast to
the news I am about to relay to you.
You and I, if we were to sit down
and write a fictional novel about these same events, would pen a very different
story than the one that I believe to be true.
While, up until now, we might have had very similar events to the ones
in the story, we now come to the part where they wildly diverge from what seems
to make good sense. To this day, I do
not understand why God has chosen this particular path for this child,
especially knowing how fraught with danger the childbearing process is, but I
trust that God has his reasons that will one day be made clear.
Imagine with me, for a moment, how
the son of God might enter into the world if we were in charge of his
birth. The finest doctors in all the
land would attend to the mother, who would undoubtedly be housed in the richest
palace that has ever been built. Perhaps
it would drop from the heavens, or maybe God would connive a way for the
current tenants to invite Mary in.
Either way, she would be surrounded by attendants and not a single need
or desire would be overlooked.
That’s how we would draw it
up. In contrast, the reality of Mary’s
time was as different as the night is from the day. You have mentioned the danger of her being an
unwed mother, and surely her fiancé was wrestling with this as well. While I cannot imagine what kind of devotion
it took to lead him to stay with her, he apparently did and traveled with her,
certainly in meager terms, from Nazareth Galilee to Judea, to a little place
there called Bethlehem, a city of David, the family of which Joseph was
descended. All of this inconvenient
travel for a pregnant woman occurred because Emperor Augustus issued a decree
that a census would be taken. (Quirinius
was governor of Syria at the time)
Joseph and Mary went together, as they were engaged, although I cannot
imagine how others reacted when they learned that the two were not married and
she was so obviously pregnant. Perhaps
the Lord blessed her with a pregnancy that was easy to hide!
I would imagine that they were
hoping they could return home before the baby came, but as life has a way of
doing, it happens when and where it chooses, usually beyond our control. I would imagine that the God who started all
of this could have had it wait until a time that was more convenient for Mary
and Joseph, but, again, I trust that he has his reasons. It is a shame that they could not be
surrounded by a community that would celebrate the child as his cousin John was
celebrated.
How lonely they must have been—made
even worse by the fact that there was no room for them in the inn. I suppose that everyone with means who was
arriving for the census had already booked their places in the inn, but it is
hard to believe no place could be found for a woman about to have a child. Maybe these two children were too meek to
demand accommodations, but to the stable they went, the dirtiest place of all,
and there the Son of God was delivered, by Joseph. They wrapped him in cloth and set him in the
manger, and that humble scene was the setting by which God came into the world.
I know that you struggle with a
belief in God, and I must say that writing this letter has caused me to examine
my own faith. It is all a bit much to
take in, but somehow I hold it all together in faith. I am not sure that I can claim a complete
understanding of it all, but since I was a child these are the stories I have
been taught, and somehow they make sense to my heart. Maybe not to the rational side of my brain,
which wonders if all these things aren’t too wonderful to be true, but to a
place deep in my heart they resound.
Maybe it is because God chose these two poor souls to use as his vessels. Maybe it is because the reality of God does
not dwell only among the rich and the privileged. Maybe it is because I believe that if God
works in ways that I do not grasp, then it must be true that God might love me
even if I do not deserve it.
I will not claim to know, but only
that I believe, and I pray that you, also, might read these tales and not be
discouraged but rather come to a place of peace and understanding with them,
that they might change your life.
Sincerely,
Theophilus
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