In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria. And all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. Luke 2:1-7
No crier announces the fulfillment of the ages. No imperial honor guard is marshaled to pay him tribute. No bells are rung, no festival declared. The most powerful head of state, the Roman Caesar, is unaware of the One before whom all emperors must cast their crowns. The Syrian governor, Quirinius, whose name would otherwise disappear from history were it not for the Christmas story, is oblivious to the birth of this child of the blood royal.
No courtesy or consideration is offered his mother. No accommodations are made. The baby Jesus, God Himself made human flesh and legitimate heir to the throne of Israel is afforded only a bed upon the fodder where ox and ass would come to eat.
Won't someone - anyone -- accord him at least some measure of importance? Won't someone more than livestock gaze upon this holy child? Where are the dignitaries? Where are the celebrities, the men and women of renown? Shouldn't the most prominent representative of church and state, of academia and industry, of the armed services and the arts line the roads to Bethlehem?
All this long way Joseph and Mary had traveled. In obedience to a civic order they had come from Nazareth in Galilee to the Judean city of Bethlehem. Two more insignificant subjects of Rome could not have been found, scraps of driftwood upon the tide of history.
And the boy to whom Mary gave birth, by the acclamation he does not receive, by the place of honor he is not afforded, by the fact He must rest his head, not on satin but on silage communicates two things.
The world is unworthy of Him.
And the vastness of God's grace is infinitely greater than we know.
Yes, he "was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him." (John 1:10-11) What an ignominious people we are. What an embarrassment we are, and appallingly disgraceful toward Him. It seems we always can find the time to amuse ourselves, treat ourselves and indulge our personal proclivities. We afford ourselves a delicacy from time to time and even believe ourselves to deserve it especially at Christmas time.
We deserve nothing.
We are not worthy of the God who would empty Himself, humble himself, and condescend to have his first bed in a barn. Who are we that God Himself should bear these indignities and worse -- to carry our sin and be our suffering servant?
That God Himself would set aside every entitlement and dignity He is due and forfeit even his own birthright is incomprehensible to us. Jesus was born in the stable at Bethlehem with no illusions. God expected no welcome and demanded no courtesies because His whole thought was for you. God did not take on our human nature with the intent to receive anything except contempt, injury, sorrow, indignity, and ultimately death.
And it all began at Bethlehem.
Even the tender picture of the baby Jesus in the hay washed with soft starlight and surrounded by the mellow sounds of mooing or a mother's lullaby disguise the cold, hard facts.
Yet, even here God spares us. He gently takes us by His Word to the grotto at Bethehem. He tenderly reveals the humility of God the Son. He assuages our disregard of Him by even here letting those tiny shoulders of the baby Jesus bear the weight.
By rights, Luke 2, should open up on the impertinence of men who will not welcome their Lord and King. But instead we are treated with peace and concord. We hear again the wondrous story.
"The time came for her to give birth. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn."
When we consider all that was not done for Him, all that was denied Him, all that He deserved and we withheld, the only reproach in the account of his birth is that "there was no place for them in the inn."
From the very beginning God guides us with a light hand. The tiny palm of the infant Jesus touches us again this Christmas, and we are reminded not only of how unworthy we are but so much more of how vast and marvelous, how sweet and wonderful it is to have a Lord such as this.
