Read: Luke 2:8-20
Dear Journal,
My flock wandered over to the east of Bethlehem this afternoon. I guess I shouldn’t say “my flock,” since the sheep actually belong to someone else. They pretty much are mine, I guess, since I’ve seen all of them grow up from when they were newborn lambs. Anyway, the “sheep I tend” wandered over to the east of Bethlehem.
I usually don’t mind when they want to go closer to another flock, provided the other flock’s shepherds are close by and can identify their sheep from mine. I think it was the singing that got my sheep’s attention, as funny as that sounds.
When the other shepherds came in view, I whistled them over so we could exchange news. It’s usually nice to talk to another human (besides my dad and brother, who shepherd this flock with me). These guys, though, were different.
The first shepherd wouldn’t even let me share my news first, which is, of course, customary for the shepherd who initiates the conversation. Instead, he blurts out, “You will not believe what happened to us last night!” Then he starts talking about angels lighting up the night sky like it’s midday, singing about giving God glory.
“It was crazy terrifying at first,” added a second guy. “But they told us to go Bethlehem and we’d see the newborn Messiah in the manger of a stable. So, we dropped everything and rushed off.”
“Wait, you just left the sheep and everything?” my brother interjected. “And you went where? To a manger?” The shepherds nodded.
Until that point, the oldest of the three shepherds had not said a word. Then he spoke. “It was just as the angels said.” The old shepherd had a distant look. I knew he was replaying the whole thing in his mind. Was that a tear I saw in his eye?
“He’s here,” whispered the old shepherd, almost to himself. “The Messiah. I saw him!”
No comments:
Post a Comment