For Such a Time as Then, and Now

Sometimes I wonder if the birth of Jesus occurred when it did because it was the best time to happen.

Yes, I can hear the rumbling of generations of theologians citing why it happened then, starting with prophecies, and it is a valid point, and writing their hands with the perceived heresy, but that is not what I was referencing.

Think about it. The king of all kings and there’s no call for days of festivities, no entering the capitol on a white horse and a legion of soldiers.

The stress of social dysfunctionality resulted in arrival in the quiet of night, among the lowest of society. One of the quotes of the time was “What good thing has ever come from Nazareth?” The hometown of the newborn Christ child was to be in a rural setting. The question could almost be a challenge. “Hold my iced tea. I got this.”

Why shepherds? Maybe because in their Old Testament redneck lifestyle, they were seeing the stars clearer than most, understanding things on the prairie city folk would walk by without noticing and talk with the real-ness in their voice that leaves no doubt what is meant.

The arrival came first to people who knew they needed something in their lives, then to those who were awakened to what he offered.

If the announcement had been over a major city of the time, would anyone have seen it? If a person walks outside in a major city and sees something in the sky today, do you dismiss it as aircraft, or follow it with intensity? When the intensity of life overwhelms the quiet, the important issues in life are missed.

Years ago, in a sociology class, the observation was made that music is defined by the silence between notes. If all you hear is one note connected to the next, it borders on noise. Measured and deliberate separation of one note to the next is what defines the melody (No, my musical friends. I didn’t study music theory.).

So the point again is do we value the silence, the quiet moments, as much as we do the job(s)? Do we take the time to check out, and be available to hear what God, and nature have to say?

Maybe as odd as it sounds we are a little frightened of the silence. When all the sound you have is the voices in you, you have a choice: stop and listen, or turn the volume up.

If done today, where would the birth happen? Would it be at the Embassy Suites in Omaha, or in a village with one gas pump and the only lights are from a cafe with the owner cleaning up from the day? Better yet, would we even know it? Would the arrival of the young couple and their son go unnoticed as just another birth in town, another dot in census stats? Would it take a couple of cowboys

We can’t change prophecies. We can argue them if we wish, but we can, the metro condo dweller and the Panhandle farmer, take the time to hear the music of the silence.

What if one of the reasons shepherds were the first to hear the angel’s announcement is they were available? They spent their time with less trappings of life, and it showed.

They didn’t form a committee to research the announcement from the sky, the angel or the host after. They heard the announcement, the direction to go and did just such.

When the wrapping paper is discarded, the feast is devoured and even dessert is forgotten, live the moment like the end of another classic movie -- in the silence of the night with the glow of the tree at the other side of the room.

Listen for the greatest of gifts. Then you will hear Christmas arrive.