When the Light Shines
Isaiah 9:2-7; Luke 2:1-20
by Jim Westmoreland
The following Christmas story is called, The Cradle, and is by Dr. Ralph F.
Wilson:
"They left their home, the new cradle still swinging from the rafters. Night after
night the aroma of fresh-cut wood had filled the room as Joseph had patiently fashioned
the tiny cradle, using the same chisel and saw he usually put down at dusk.
Now Joseph wiped the tears from Mary's cheeks and shut the door behind them. "It'll
be okay," he told her, as he cinched up their belongings on the donkey.
"Joseph, can't we wait a few days? The baby could come any time." She didn't
want to leave home. Not now.
"We've waited for the baby as long as we dare." He was ready to get on the road.
"We have to leave today or I'll be arrested for not appearing in Bethlehem for the
census."
"At least bring the cradle, Joseph," she pleaded. "I want the baby to have
something nice."
"No, it'll have to stay behind. The baby will be rocking in it soon enough."
Joseph tugged hard at the donkey's halter. No luck. "Come on, animal," he
shouted, whacking it on the rear end to get it moving. Grudgingly the donkey responded.
With one hand Joseph led the donkey, with the other he steadied Mary on the steep incline,
slowly enough to accommodate her ungainly progress down the winding road which led from
Nazareth's height. In the house above, the cradle hung still.
Five days and ninety bone-weary miles later, Joseph searched the small stable where they
were staying on the outskirts of crowded Bethlehem. Mary's time would be soon now. He was
careful to keep his lamp from igniting the old straw. He finally settled on an ancient
stone manger for the baby's bed, cut from the wall of the limestone cave which housed the
animals. He reached in to scoop the last gritty bits of straw from the manger's dank
bottom. "That'll have to do," he muttered. He filled the trough with an armful
of fresh fodder, which he covered with a folded blanket to keep the animals away.
It was well past midnight by the time Mary finished washing and wrapping her new baby. Now
she lifted him gently into his new bed. Joseph put his arm around her shoulders as they
gazed at the sleeping infant.
Mary touched the tiny fingers. "That cradle you spent so much time on would be real
nice right now, Joseph." She looked up at the cave's low ceiling. "You could
hang it somewhere. No baby I know has a cradle like that. It's fit for a king."
Joseph grinned. "Not every boy has a carpenter for a dad," he said. But he
wondered. Why couldn't little Jesus be home in that cradle? Why does this special child
the angel told Mary and him about have to be born in this smelly stable? A hill-country
carpenter's home is bad enough. Why here? Why Bethlehem?
The answer wasn't long in coming. An older boy poked his head in the door, startling the
couple from their quiet moment. "Is there a baby in here?" he mumbled
apologetically. Then he saw the tiny child. Mary picked her baby up to shield the infant
from his eyes. The face disappeared.
Mary's eyes mirrored Joseph's concern. He strode to the cave's opening. He could hear a
distant call, "Over here, Jake found him!"
In the darkness, Joseph could make out a handful of forms coming toward him. He
gripped his stout wooden staff and stood resolutely at the door.
As they approached the stable he could see they were shepherds. Joseph's grip on the staff
tightened. The oldest one spoke hesitantly. "Can we come in? We have ... ah ... come
to see the Christ-child."
Joseph glanced at Mary. He could feel a tingle move down his spine. This was more than an
accident. The whole fantastic course of events was far more than an accident. He nodded
and stepped back into the stable. "Yes, come in. You are welcome."
The shepherds shuffled into the cramped cave. The youngest pushed in alongside the donkey
to get a better view. They knelt. "God be praised!" The old shepherd spoke with
deepest reverence.
"It's just like the angel told us," another whispered in awe.
"'Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all
people,' the angel said."
"Imagine! An angel . . . talking to us!" the old man interjected with rising
excitement. "None of the uppity-ups in this town would lower themselves to talk to us
shepherds," he added. "But an angel did . . . And the child is right here in a
stable so we can come and see him."
Rivulets of tears were inching down the shepherd's weathered face.
Joseph stared at the old man. "How did you find us?" he finally asked.
The boy who had first peeked in answered. "The angel said, 'Unto you is born
....'"
"Yes, to us!" The beaming old man couldn't contain himself.
The boy spoke deliberately, as if to remember the exact words: "Unto you is born this
day in the city of David a Savior ..."
"That's here--Bethlehem--David's birthplace," the littlest boy interrupted. He
thrust out his chest proudly. "King David was a shepherd, too, you know."
The older boy continued. " . . . a Savior, which is Christ the Lord."
"The Christ, the Messiah . . . He's the one!" The old man pointed to the baby.
"The angel was very specific," the young man went on. "'And this shall be a
sign unto you. You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a
manger.'" He grinned. "How could we miss? We just ran into town and checked
every stable until we found you . . . found him." The boy paused. "How many
newborns in Bethlehem do you know with a cattle manger for a cradle?"
Joseph chuckled. So that was it. The heavenly Father Himself had provided a bed for His
child. A special cradle. A sign to these crude shepherds that God cared for them too.
Joseph squeezed Mary's hand very tightly."
When the Light Shines . . . we are moved to go find out for
ourselves. The angel of the Lord suddenly stood before the shepherds, and the glory of the
Lord shone around them. What would they do? They were afraid! But, God's light was being
given to them. The long-awaited Messiah was born and lying in a manger. What would they
do? Go back home? No! When the Light Shines . . . we are moved
to go find out for ourselves! And, they went and found the Christ-child lying in a manger.
When God shines His light on us, at Christmas or any other time, if we refuse to be
changed, to go find out, to seek out what He has to give us, then, we will remain
unchanged, beyond the reach of whatever blessings that God has to give us.
When the Light Shines . . . it will lead us to do some new
things. Chuck Swindoll tells a true story about a professor in his book, Finishing
Touch, p. 268.
The professor sat at his desk one evening working on the next day's lectures. His
housekeeper had laid that days mail and papers at his desk and he began to shuffle through
them discarding most to the wastebasket. He then noticed a magazine, which was not even
addressed to him but delivered to his office by mistake. It fell open to an article titled
"The Needs of the Congo Mission".
Casually, he began to read when he was suddenly consumed by these words: "The need is
great here. We have no one to work the northern province of Gabon in the central Congo.
And it is my prayer as I write this article that God will lay His hand on one - one on
whom, already, the Master's eyes have been cast - that he or she shall be called to this
place to help us." Professor Albert Schweitzer closed the magazine and wrote in his
diary: "My search is over." He gave himself to the Congo.
That little article, hidden in a periodical intended for someone else, was placed by
accident in Schweitzer's mailbox. By chance he noticed the title. It leaped out at him.
Chance? Nope. It was one of God's surprises. When God shines His light, we
are surprised, we are blessed, and we are used for His glory to bring others to be changed
by this baby in a manger.
What have you heard and Seen this Christmas? Oh, you say, had I been there at Bethlehem
that night I would have seen. I would have understood. I would have known it was the
Christ child. Would you? There is one way of knowing:
Ask yourself what you have seen and heard this Christmas Season. When you watched the 6:00
news did you see chaos and strife, or did you see sheep without a shepherd. When you went
out to do your shopping did you see only hordes of people in the stores, or did you notice
the worried expressions on some of their faces--worried because they are facing this
Christmas without employment or enough money and they don't know how they are going to
make ends meet.
What did you hear this Christmas? Did you hear only the blast of music and carols, or did
you hear the silent sighs of the lonely and the bereaved who may be dreading Christmas
because it accentuates their loneliness. And in the midst of the sounds of honking horns
and people arguing over parking places, did you hear faint sounds of laughter coming from
church missions projects because you furnished food and toys for families and children.
You see, so often what you see and what you hear is not dependent upon the event but upon
you. If you did in fact hear the cry from the lonely, the laughter of poor children, if
you saw the sheep without a shepherd, then, and only then, might you have noticed the
events that took place in Bethlehem that night. If you lacked that spiritual seeing and
hearing then you probably would have been with the 99% who were present in Bethlehem but
who saw or heard nothing out of the ordinary.
The message of Christmas is that God intrudes upon the weak and the vulnerable, and this
is precisely the message that we so often miss. God does not come to that part of us that
swaggers through life, confident in our self sufficiency. God leaves his treasure in the
broken fragmented places of our life. God comes to us in those rare moments when we are
able to transcend our own selfishness long enough to really care about another human
being.
If we want to see the Light shine this Christmas, we need to
shed the tough, protective layers of our personality to reveal our need of God in our
lives. We need His Light to warm us and change us. When
His Light shines, there is a story to tell others, there is Good News to
share, there is a Savior who makes our lives different!