Joy to the World!



"Behold I stand at the door
and knock."



Of course, you think of Christmas when you hear someone sing “Joy to the World.” It is a wonderful Christmas hymn, but so much more! Too often we limit our appreciation of the song because certain associations have developed around it, either in our own experience or in our culture. “Joy to the Word” is one of the few Christmas hymns, or maybe the only one, that is not specifically about Jesus' birth. Is there any reason why it must be sung only at this season? No, it would be appropriate in March or July or October as well! (Although you might be called upon to do some explaining!)

Isaac Watts wrote this hymn, not particularly as a Christmas carol, but as a paraphrase of Psalm 98:4-9. Whereas the Psalmist did not understand in a personal way the Savior's coming, Watts definitely relates the words of the psalm to Jesus' life of ministry on earth. 

Joy to the world! The Lord is come;

Let earth receive her King;

Let every heart prepare Him room

And heaven and nature sing.

Joy to the world! The Savior reigns;

Let men their songs employ,

While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains
Repeat the sounding joy. 

These two verses celebrate the incarnation, the Word becoming flesh, dwelling with us to conquer sin and death and to bring the reality of God's kingdom to our hearts. The next verse is prophetic, looking ahead to Jesus' return in glory.

No more let sin and sorrows grow,

Nor thorns infest the ground;

He comes to make His blessings flow

Far as the curse is found.

Then Jesus will rule with truth and grace, and His Kingdom of righteousness, peace, and joy will be made manifest among all nations and to all people. 

He rules the world with truth and grace,

And makes the nations prove

The glories of His righteousness

And wonders of love. 

The next time you hear this hymn, maybe a few more times before the New Year begins, pause a moment and repeat to yourself, “Yes, the Lord is come!” He is, but not just at Christmas, Immanuel, “God with us!”

MaryMartha

Art from www.lavistachurchofchrist.org/pictures

"God Don't Like Ugly"



"[He] rescues the wretched who've been
thrown out with the trash . . ."

I came across that book title the other day, and had an immediate reaction of disbelief. Actually there is more than one book by that title. One is a well-received novel, another, a book about African-American family values. It is the title that puts me off. What young person browsing through library or bookstore shelves wants to be confronted with “GOD Don't Like Ugly”? A lot of people, old and young alike, have self-esteem that is fragile enough already without a reminder printed in big yellow letters!

It isn't true, anyway. Had God not loved the people of the world even when they were damaged and made “ugly” by sin, there would be no Christmas, no Savior coming to bring salvation. “But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.” (Romans 5:8) And He still loves us at our most unattractive; our sometimes negative, and selfish behavior doesn't put Him off.  He still draws us, still invites us, “Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11:28)

MaryMartha

Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. United States of America. All rights reserved.

Art from http://www.sxc.hu/

Why Me?

This morning I was listening to a Christmas song that pictured Mary, the mother of Jesus, as gentle and humble. I'm sure this was true, as it was of many other young Jewish girls of that time. I wondered, then what was special about Mary that God chose her to bear the Savior of the world?

Perhaps that is the point. As far as we know, Mary was an ordinary young woman, very much like many other girls; she was not chosen on the basis of being special. The shepherds too, were ordinary, or perhaps even a bit below ordinary. What a wonderful thing it is that God chose to clothe His Son in ordinary human flesh, born into an ordinary family—although under quite unusual circumstances. Then His gift to humanity was announced to less-than-ordinary people—although in a remarkable way. Any of these people who were just ordinary might have wondered, “Why me? I'm not special.” This part of Christmas is a mystery, but it is a wonder and a delight

Sometimes I wonder myself. “Why me? Why did I hear the Gospel as a child and receive the Lord Jesus as my Savior? Why have I been privileged to understand the beauty and holiness of the Christmas message? Why do I have shelter and food and clothing? Why me, when so much of the world is without?” This part of my life is a mystery, but I am filled with wonder and gratitude.

MaryMartha

He Has Come!

Centuries before it came to pass, the prophets were foretelling the coming of the Messiah, God's anointed one. Isaiah declared, "The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine . . . For a child is born to us, a son is given to us . . . And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." Jeremiah prophesied, " 'For the time is coming,' says the Lord, 'when I will raise up a righteous descendant from King David’s line. He will be a King who rules with wisdom. He will do what is just and right throughout the land. And this will be his name: The Lord Is Our Righteousness.' " And although Isaiah also said, "He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities," few people of Israel seemed to recognize that Jesus was coming not to be a military deliverer but a Savior. Why did the nation of Israel, God's own people, need a Savior?

For hundreds of years, they had been governed by the law God had given to them through Moses. Sometimes they kept that law, many times they did not. But God promised, "The time is coming when I will make a new covenant with them. I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people." Israel needed a Savior so that obedience to God would be an inner response of the heart."

Israel needed a Savior because they were separated from God by sin. Mary may have been one of the first to know that, although she could hardly comprehend her part in the plan. The angel told her, "You will bring forth a son and shall call his name Jesus." That name literally means "savior." And an angel also told Joseph very specifically, "Mary will bring forth a son and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins."

People today need peace and light too, as much as anyone ever has. We come from a long line of sinners, ever since Adam and Eve. Yes, and we have all personally sinned too. We need a Savior in order to have relationship with God.

In the Scripture, we are told of some who, even though they knew the truth about why Jesus had come, were reluctant to accept Him fully and some did not receive Him at all. Why did they hesitate?

Nicodemus visited Jesus at night; He may have been afraid of what the other Jewish rulers would think of his seeking spiritual answers. The rich young ruler turned away because he was did not want to face the cost. The woman with the issue of blood must have been embarrassed by all the "nice," ordinary people around her, even though her situation wasn't her fault. But she was also desperate, and pressed through to Jesus. The prodigal son was only in a parable, but it was his own fault he ended up in a dirty pig pen. He was deep into selfish sinning until there wasn't any way out except to go home. And some people hesitate because they don't know how bad off they are! Lazarus couldn't help himself; he had to have Jesus come on the scene to bring him back to life before his friends could unwind the grave clothes and set him free to live again.

We also hesitate for many of the same reasons. We are bound by what people think, or we are afraid of the cost. We are embarrassed, or we are ashamed, especially if we feel like what we've done and where we've been makes us too bad to come to Jesus. And it's true for us, as well, that we often don't realize our own need. No matter why we hesitate, the Father is waiting for us to come to Him.
Jesus came to us, so that we could come to the Father. "Home" for Christmas!

MaryMartha

Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. United States of America. All rights reserved.

Art from http://sxc.hu/

The Government on His Shoulders

"For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His government and its peace will never end." (Isaiah 9:6, 7)

If there are things about our government that trouble you, if you worry about our posture as a nation, if you fret about the world's "isms"—terrorism, humanism, socialism, and so on—remember that government finally rests and surely upon the shoulders of our God. For a time, He has given authority to the rulers of the world's nations, and eventually their rule will be over. His government will never end, but come to its full revelation when "at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." (Philippians 2:10, 11) Until then, don't be afraid!

Martin Luther wrote the great Reformation hymn, "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." One of the verses says, "That word [the name, Jesus] above all earthly powers—no thanks to them—abideth. The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him who with us sideth. Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also. The body they may kill; God's truth abideth still. His Kingdom is forever!"

Rejoice! The Savior, Redeemer, Governor has come!

MaryMartha

Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. United States of America. All rights reserved.

Art from http://www.sxc.hu/

The Coming of Light

The occurrence of the winter solstice in the Northern Hemisphere (December 21 this year) may have had, centuries ago, something to do with the choice of December 25 for the celebration of Christmas. We are pretty sure that date is not actually Jesus' birthday, and some people object to the secular—and even pagan—origins of this special holiday. Sun worshippers rejoiced on" the birthday of the unconquered sun," as on this shortest day of the year, the sun reaches its southernmost point in relation to the earth and begins what we see as its reverse journey. Thereafter, the days become longer and nights shorter, leading to the recognition that the sun is "reborn."


But early Christian writers took back the festival from the pagan worshippers! Cyprian, a 3rd century African bishop wrote, "O, how wonderfully acted Providence that on that day on which that Sun was born...Christ should be born." John Chrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople in the 4th century said, "They call it the 'Birthday of the Unconquered'. Who indeed is so unconquered as Our Lord . . .?"


“Arise, Jerusalem! Let your light shine for all to see. For the glory of the Lord rises to shine on you. Darkness as black as night covers all the nations of the earth, but the glory of the Lord rises and appears over you. All nations will come to your light; mighty kings will come to see your radiance." (Isaiah 60:1-3) "The Word [Christ] gave life to everything that was created, and his life brought light to everyone. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it. The one who is the true light, who gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. (John 1:4, 5, 9)


I am not a sun-worshipper, but I am always glad for the sun's "returning." I am a Son-worshipper and forever grateful for the True Light whose coming I celebrate at Christmas!


MaryMartha


Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. United States of America. All rights reserved.

Art from http://www.sxc.hu/

Santa Claus and the Like

One of my blogging friends has expressed some regret that she led her children to believe in Santa Claus because now she considers that she lied to them. I wrote in reply, "When I was growing up, we loved Santa Claus, knowing he was in the same category as other fun things like rabbits who talk (in Peter Cottontail) and the "dish fairy" who surprised my Mom when she got home and found that somehow—almost by magic—the dishes had been washed and dried. "Oh, the dish fairy has been here!" she would exclaim with delight, and I would just giggle because I knew who the "dish fairy" was! We didn't feel anyone lied to us about Santa Claus, but enjoyed the pretending, understanding that it was just that."

Maybe Santa Claus—even pretending—is not part of your Christmas. Or there may be some readers who do not celebrate Christmas at all. I respect our differences, so if you wish, just ignore the remainder of this post. I want to quote a long-lasting bit of tradition. Over a hundred years ago, little Virginia O'Hanlon wrote to the editor of New York's Sun:

Dear Editor: I am 8 years old.
Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
Papa says, "If you see it in THE SUN it's so."
Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

The response was printed on September 21, 1897, the work of newsman Francis Pharcellus Church, and has since become the most reprinted newspaper editorial ever, appearing in part or its entirety in dozen of languages in books, movies, other editorials, and on posters and stamps.

I am not sure the eight-year-old could understand the literate, abstract reply. But we can. " . . .Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were not Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias . . . "

That is echoed in a recent article published in the "Parade" supplement to many Sunday newspapers. Popular author Alexander McCall Smith wrote that there are times when we need to pretend to believe in things that we actually know not to be true. The world is often a place of suffering and difficulty, and justice and kindness and love do not always prevail against these hard realities. "Myths help us to get by," he says. So don't be embarrassed if you want to "believe" in Santa. He stands for kindness and generosity and goodwill, and these things will continue to be alive as long as we believe in them.

MaryMartha

Interesting reading alert!
A copy of the Sun editorial is located at http://www.newseum.org/yesvirginia/

Smith's article is at http://www.parade.com/news/2009/12/13-why-we-should-believe-in-santa-claus.html

Art from http://www.sxc.hu/

Grace and Truth

"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth." (John 1:14)

Many times I have read the poems or essays, "If Jesus Had Not Come." Much of the world's great art, music, and literature would not have been produced. Higher education would not have had its auspicious start. Fewer hospitals, nursing homes, and programs for the needy would exist. There might be mosques and temples, but there would be no Christian churches. Without the beneficial Gospel teachings of love and forgiveness, how far down might society sink?

But I have been thinking, what if Jesus had come only as the bearer of truth, without the accompanying grace? "God is love—sorry about your being on the outside." Suppose that the whole message of the New Testament was that of accusation? "You have transgressed the law of God, and He is really, really mad!"

How awful that would be! Enmeshed in our own selfishness and sin, truth alone would leave us hopeless. Jesus brought grace as well! He explained that indeed God is love, but He extends it to all, regardless of whether they are willing to receive it. "Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God." (John 1:12) Grace opened the way for relationship with the Heavenly Father.

Jesus came to rescue us from futile attempts to satisfy an angry God. He explained things so simply for us: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind . . . Love your neighbor as yourself. All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." Grace made the way for us to live at peace.

What a gift—grace and truth embodied in the Lord Jesus who came to show it to us! "We have seen his glory . . . grace and truth."

MaryMartha

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright©1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

Art from http://www.sxc.hu/

Joys of the Season

Certainly, the most important aspect of the Christmas season is the celebration of Christ's coming to earth. No ordinary birthday, this! And therefore, no ordinary celebration.

I love the music of Christmas. Much of the time while I am at home during December, I am listening—soft instrumental music if I am working at the computer or reading, traditional renditions of both religious and popular music if I am more actively listening while I eat or do the laundry or the dishes. I anticipate attending some special presentations of music too; it has become tradition to see "The Nutcracker" ballet.

I love the lights of Christmas—the lights on my own tree, the lights on the houses up and down the street where I live, the lighted decorations on our downtown streets, the special displays by various organizations.

I love the cards and notes from friends at Christmas; it warms the heart to be remembered. Some of us correspond only once a year, but it is sweet to know that even when we do not write or call, we are still friends across the miles and pray for each others' happiness.

I love the general feeling of goodwill at Christmas. This isn't true everywhere, of course; if one gets caught in a crush of cross shoppers at the mall, he/she may not be at all convinced about the message of peace on earth! But on the whole, people are generous to others in ways they may not be throughout the year. (They do fill those Salvation Army buckets, after all!)

I love Christmas worship—especially the Christmas Eve candlelight service. It is an especially holy time, full of gratitude for so great a gift as God gave us.

I feel really sorry for those individuals who say, "Christmas? Bah! Humbug!"

MaryMartha

Art from http://www.sxc.hu/

I Will Rescue You

A friend was telling me about the circumstances in her life which had been pressing her to feel frantic. She had pleaded desperately with God, “Please help me or I won’t make it.” And in her heart He answered quietly, “I rescued Ruth [a woman in a dreadful situation] and I love you just as much. I can rescue you too—and I will.”

Much of the Bible is about rescue. God rescued Noah from the flood and Lot from the firestorm of Sodom. He rescued baby Moses hidden in a basket-boat, and Daniel when he was thrown to the hungry lions. The Christmas message itself is about rescue; “And she [Mary] will have a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:21 NLT)

Rescue does not always come in just the way we are expecting it. Several versions of the following story make this point. A fellow was trapped in his house by the rapid floodwaters that swirled through what had been his front yard. A Red Cross rowboat came by, and the workers urged him to get into their boat, but he refused, saying, “The Lord will rescue me.” Before long the water was up to the window sills, and a motor boat came by. The worried occupants called, “Sir, you’ve got to leave; the water is still rising rapidly. “No, no,” he answered, “The Lord will save me.”

The rain continued to pour down and the water continued to rise. After awhile, it pushed the fellow up and outside onto the roof where he perched precariously. A helicopter hovered overhead and the team lowered a rope. “Grab the rope and we’ll pull you to safety,” the loud speaker squawked. “No,” he shouted back, “The Lord will save me.”

Soon the rising water swept over the roof, and the fellow was carried away and drowned. He arrived at Heaven’s throne perplexed and angry—and very wet. "Why," he shouted at God, "didn’t you save me?"

"Give me a break," sighed the Lord God Almighty. "I sent two boats and a helicopter. What were you waiting for?"

Rescue does not always come in dramatic ways. As a matter of fact, it is most likely to arrive through unspectacular means. God will probably not provide miraculous transport if there are boats and helicopters handy. He will probably not commission a team of rescue workers to come to your aid while there is something you can do yourself. Rather than throw up your hands and declare your situation hopeless, you can look around for what He has already given or is sending your way. He is, after all, in the rescue business.

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Scripture quotation is taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. United States of America. All rights reserved.

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

My Favorite Christmas Word

There are many words to choose from:

Love: “This is real love—not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins.” (I John 4:10 NLT)

Joy: “I have told you this [about abiding in God’s love] so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” (John 15:11 NIV)

Peace: “I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.” (John 14:27 NLT)

Came: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10 NASB)

Gave: “For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him. (John 3:16, 17 NLT)

Save: She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." (Matthew 1:21 NIV)

I love each of these words, but my favorite is “with.” The Divine intention was not merely to provide the redemptive offering of Christ’s life, but also to take up permanent residence with us. Jesus said, “All who love me will do what I say. My Father will love them, and we will come and make our home with each of them.” John 14:23 NLT

This part of God’s plan was expressed by the prophet Isaiah many years before Jesus ever came. “All right then, the Lord himself will give you the sign. Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means ‘God is with us’).” (Isaiah 7:14 NLT)

For me, it is not enough to have the Baby in a manger, confined to a few celebratory days at the end of the year. I need God with me every day! I remember well an old hymn, the words of which were written in 1890 by the blind Fanny Crosby. My mother would sing this and other gospel songs as she worked around the house or washed milk cans in the dairy barn.

I must have the Savior with me, for I dare not go alone,
I must feel His presence near me, and His arm around me thrown.

Refrain:
Then my soul shall fear no ill, let Him lead me where He will,
I will go without a murmur, and His footsteps follow still.

I must have the Savior with me, for my faith, at best, is weak;
He can whisper words of comfort, that no other voice can speak.

I must have the Savior with me, in the onward march of life,
Thro’ the tempest and the sunshine, thro’ the battle and the strife.

I must have the Savior with me, and His eye the way must guide,
Till I reach the vale of Jordan, till I cross the rolling tide."

To the modern ear, these words may sound quaint, but if one knows times of weakness and tempest and battle—as Fanny and my mother did—having their Savior-Friend with them was a great source of help and comfort. It was not weakness for them to anticipate “crossing over Jordan” (dying and entering heaven). When life is circumscribed by hardship, it is natural to look toward the time when fellowship Him will be unhindered by any human limitation.

God is with me! What a Christmas gift! What an everyday gift!

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. United States of America. All rights reserved. Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright©1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. Scripture quotation marked NASB is taken from the New American Standard Bible; used by permission of the Lockman Foundation.

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Christmas Story: 19 - MARY Finds the Incense and an Altar

An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife

Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.

MARY Finds the Incense and an Altar

It was so hard, living in Egypt. The customs, the language, the people themselves were all so different from what I was used to. When I marketed, I thought the women were all looking at me. I was sure that their low murmurs were a discussion of me. At the well, they did not even bother to hide their laughter. Were they laughing at something about me? All the everyday tasks that brought me into contact with other people became more and more difficult. I wanted to go into our little house, shut the door, and never go out again.

Joseph found odd jobs to do, bringing home a few coins to go with the dwindling supply in the gold coffer. He was able to make friends too, in spite of the language barrier. One day he brought home some distressing news he had heard about the districts surrounding Bethlehem.

Herod routinely disposed of anyone who got in the way of his ambitious reach for power, even those of his own family. The threat of a little boy who might one day grow up to depose him could be handled by simple extermination, he decided. Not being one to waste time, he had ordered, soon after our departure, the slaughter of all the male children from two years old and under. The very toddlers Jesus had played with in our little yard in Bethlehem were now dead. Our boy had been spared! The mothers I had marketed with, shared smart-baby stories with, were weeping inconsolably because their babies were gone. I had been spared! I was horrified by the gruesome tragedy, and a little ashamed of my spirit of complaining. I would try harder, I decided, to make the best of our enforced stay in Egypt.

Usually, it was Joseph who opened the box of coins, taking out a gold piece to pay for our rented house or to exchange for smaller coins I would use at the market. But one afternoon while he was away and the child was napping, I began to wonder just how many coins were left. How long will we be compelled to stay in this land? What will we do when the money is gone? How on earth can we manage then?

I reached as far back as I could on the shelf where the coins were kept, but I could only just touch the box with my fingertips. I dragged a stool to a spot directly in front of the shelf, and standing on the stool I could easily reach the little golden box. I put out my hand to open it, but stopped when I noticed the dusty jar beside it. The frankincense! One of the gifts brought by the Easterners who came to worship Jesus in Bethlehem! I had forgotten all about it.

I lifted the little vessel carefully and, cradling it in both hands took it to the table. I did not open it at first but just looked at it, my mind carrying me back to that day that seemed so very long ago. “Don’t sell this incense,” the giver had instructed me. “Use it.” What else had he said? I tried hard to remember.

“You understand what it means to be away from home.” Oh yes, I do understand! First in Bethlehem, far from my own home, far away from my mother when I brought forth my child. Then in this land of Egypt, so full of strange sights and sounds and smells.

“Your son too will know what it’s like to be a foreigner, a minority.” I pondered that. He’s just a little boy. He doesn’t know or care, does he, where he lives?

But wait! My little son lying there, sweet and soft, is the Son of the Highest. The angel Gabriel said he was the promised Holy One, the Son of God, and Cousin Elizabeth loudly proclaimed him “my Lord.” Then how can he be at home here or anywhere? How can he ever feel that he belongs to the world around him? Dear little boy, my heart aches for the loneliness, the rejection, the displacement you will surely one day feel. This must be what the traveler from the East meant when he gave us this gift.

I opened the jar carefully, so as not to spill any of the precious contents. A fresh, sweet fragrance filled the room. Incense. Other thoughts came rushing in. The altar of God. Prayer offered up to the Most High. With startling clarity, I remembered something else the visitor had said. “Wherever you are, you must be sure to make an altar.”

I covered my face with my hands, awed in the sudden presence of the Holy One. How long since I had truly humbled myself before the Lord God, how long since I had sung the praise He gave me, “My soul rejoices in You, O Lord! I am small and weak, but you are mighty and strong, and you have chosen to do wonderful things for me!” How long since I had repeated the commitment I whispered when Gabriel visited me, “Behold, I am the maidservant of the Lord! Let Him do in me whatever He will.” I had made no altar in Egypt.

I had lamented being a stranger in the land. I had felt displaced and homeless. But now, bowing in that sacred space, I knew I was not forsaken. God had entrusted to me a part of Himself; He was lying there in the crib. While my mind could hardly fathom such a thought, my heart felt, at last, safe and secure.

Not many days after, Joseph awoke me during the night. “An angel has come to me in a dream again,” he told me. “We can go back now to the land of Israel. Those who sought to take the life of our Child are dead.”

So once more we packed everything we could on the back of our donkey, and we trudged the many miles back to the land of our fathers. Had we chosen to settle in any of the little villages along the way, I could have declared it “home.” Wasn’t I carrying with me the incense to make a kitchen table into an altar? We could have returned to Bethlehem where we lived for the first few years of our life as a family, but God warned my husband in yet another dream to move beyond the territory where King Herod’s successor ruled. We came at long last back to our own region of Galilee. “Nazareth is a good place to raise a boy,” Joseph said with a smile. He looked relieved and happy.

Making a home in Nazareth was not easy for me, however. When I left, I was but a girl, albeit an expectant one and I’d never lived anywhere but in my parents’ home. Now I was a few years older, I was a wife, the mother of a growing boy, and responsible for my own home and family. It all seemed a bit strange, almost like being in a different Nazareth! I often took out the little jar of incense and looked at it, clinging to the truth I’d learned when we lived in Egypt. No place is “home” if there is not an altar of worship and commitment there.

And any place you do make that altar, I know now, your heart can find its home.

(The end)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Christmas Story: 18 - MARY Keeps the Last Gift for Her Son; JOSEPH Takes His Family to Egypt

An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife

Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.

MARY Keeps the Last Gift for Her Son

I took the gift for Jesus, trying to be composed, trying not to cry, knowing for certain then that my days of displacement were not, as I had hoped, almost over.

“Come here, child,” the third visitor said. He was the quiet one, a beardless youth of perhaps twenty. “I have something for you to hold for a minute,” he said to the little boy, “and then you may give it to your mother to keep for you.” He took a gold-mounted horn from his traveling bag. “This is myrrh,” he explained. “Do you know what that is?”

Jesus looked at him with dark, solemn eyes and said nothing. Of course he was too young to know—but we did. A precious perfume in its own right, myrrh is also valued for medicinal purposes and for embalming the dead. What a strange gift for a child!

“Mama, here,” the little boy said, offering me the cup in its intricate holder. I took it from him, then turned to see if the young man would give some explanation of his choice of gifts. “Keep this for the days ahead,” was all he offered. “When the need arises, you will understand.”

The men bid us farewell. “We will be here a few days,” they told us, “to let our animals rest and to replenish our supplies. And then we must begin our return trip.” With last smiles and waves at our little boy, they left quietly.

JOSEPH Takes His Family to Egypt

I’m not one given to dreams, because working hard as I do throughout the day, I usually just fall into bed and sleep soundly. If I do dream, I don’t try to attach any great significance to those elusive visions.

There was, though, that one dream long ago when God told me it was right to take Mary as my wife. So when I dreamed again what seemed like a God-speaking dream, I took it seriously. “Arise!” an angel told me. “Take the young child and his mother and flee to Egypt. Stay there until I bring you word to leave, for Herod will try to destroy the child.”

Mary had made a comfortable home for us in the little house in Bethlehem. She and the baby were establishing a satisfying routine that I was hesitant to disrupt. I went to her with some reluctance.

“Mary, we must leave Bethlehem now . . .”

She turned to me eagerly. “Are we going back to Nazareth then?”

“No, my dear. Even Nazareth is not safe for us. We must go far away from the rule of the wicked king Herod. We must flee immediately—tonight—to Egypt.”

“Egypt? Tonight? Oh, Joseph—“

Once again, in a move that reminded me of that difficult trip to Bethlehem in the first place, we were on the road. Much of what we had accumulated in household goods had to be left behind. We took only what our small donkey could carry in the bundles that swung from his sides. It was hardly enough to start a new life.

(To be continued)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Christmas Story: 17 - JOSEPH Meets the Visitors from the East

An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife

Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.

JOSEPH Meets the Visitors from the East

Of all those who met us on the street or came to visit us, the most unusual were the wise men from the East. Speaking through the interpreter who was part of their company, they told us their story. They were students of the heavens and had seen in the skies a star that signaled the birth of the world’s awaited Messiah—our child, God’s son. For many long months, they had traveled with the brilliant new star guiding them, until at last they reached Jerusalem, only a few miles from where we lived. Stopping in the City, they inquired of the citizens where they could find the one who had been born “king of the Jews,” and were quite surprised at the stir this created among the people.

Herod, proclaimed by the Roman government as reigning king over the Jews, seemed troubled when he learned of the travelers’ quest. He asked discreetly of the eastern visitors when they had first seen the beacon star. They calculated their preparation time and the months they had been traveling across the desert, and answered him, “Nearly two years ago.”

“Go and search carefully,” Herod told them. “When you have found the young child, bring back word to me. I want to come and worship him also.”

Again the star guided the men from the East, this time in a miraculous southerly direction, until it stopped—although we didn’t know it—directly over our house! That is when we heard a loud calling outside, and then a knock at the door. I answered and led three men into our home. We often had visitors—that was not a surprise—but we were not prepared for the reaction of these guests to Jesus.

Their weariness was evident, but they gazed for a long time at the little boy sitting on Mary’s lap. Tears began to course down their cheeks, making pale tracks in the travel stains there. And then, one by one, they fell to their knees, bending their foreheads to the ground, worshipping the child!

We were speechless. This was unlike any other response we had seen. The shepherds who came to the cave the night Jesus was born were beside themselves with joy. What their welcome lacked in refinement was more than compensated for by their noisy exuberance! They were just so very glad to welcome the Savior, so pleased to have been chosen to receive the angels’ announcement.

Simon at the Temple had held the baby and said softly, “Now I am ready to depart from this life in peace. God told me I would first see Israel’s consolation, her light of revelation. You are worthy, Lord God, of praise. You have kept your Word!”

Mary had pondered these responses of glad acceptance and quiet surrender. She had a lot to think about, she told me, deep inside her heart. I too had to marvel at the reaction of those who met the infant. But now we were truly awed by these men who bowed before him in acknowledgment, not only of what He would become but also of who he already was.

I think we remembered to thank the men for their gifts—I’m not sure. We were struck dumb by their offerings. Opening up the baggage, the oldest of the men, the one who seemed to be spokesman for the group, explained, “We have brought some things in remembrance of this occasion and to honor your son. Here, sir,” he said to me as he lifted out a coffer made of gold. Raising the lid, he gave me a glimpse of the pile of gold coins held within. “I want you to take this for the child,” he said.

“Of course,” I answered. “I’ll gladly keep it for him. One day, he’ll understand the value of a gold coin and then it will be his own.” And I, who never in my life had had more than two gold coins to rub together, held out my hand to receive one for my son.

The aging man shook his head. “No, you are to take the whole box,” he insisted, pressing it into both of my hands.

I was astonished at the weight of all this wealth suddenly thrust upon me, and I opened my mouth to protest. But the man continued, “Yes, you’re right. It is indeed worth a great deal. And by the time your son knows the value of a gold coin, he won’t really need it.” He smiled at my confusion. “I brought it mostly as a reminder to myself that there are some things far more valuable than gold.”

The man with dark skin brought from his belongings a small censer that I immediately recognized as an incense container although it was more beautiful—and probably far more costly—than any I had ever seen. The visitor opened the jar, and the fresh, sweet fragrance of the little “tears” wept from the bark of a resinous tree filled the room.

“You must take this,” he said, turning to Mary. “You understand what it means to be away from home. Your son too will know what it’s like to be a foreigner, a minority. Wherever you are, then, you must be sure to make an altar. Don’t sell this incense. Use it—for the altar is where your heart will find its home.”

(To be continued)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)
Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Christmas Story: 16 - MARY Makes a Home in Bethlehem

An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife

Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.

MARY Makes a Home in Bethlehem

Sometimes, while we lived in Bethlehem, I wept for my broken dreams. When Joseph asked my father for permission to marry me, I was so happy that I thought I would never have reason to cry again! I was full of hopeful dreams as I began preparing trunks full of beautiful woven cloth and fine wools. I braided ropes and made pots. All my thoughts were happy, hopeful ones of our future together—a future in which there was not a single dark cloud!

The announcement of the baby’s coming changed all of that, or at least put it out of my thinking temporarily. I began to plan for his arrival, but that was difficult because no one was glad with me. At least Joseph believed me, although it did take the visitation of an angel from the Lord.

I knew that after the baby was born, Joseph and I could make a good home together. I could just see it. He would work in his shop, and as the evening sun was setting, he would come down the street toward the house where our little son and I waited at the door with open arms. I would have prepared something delicious for our evening meal, and we would sit down to share it together in the circle of lamplight. Joseph would tell us about his day in the shop. Our son—and perhaps later other sons and daughters—would tell about playing games in the street, and about helping me bake the bread, and about the bird building a nest just outside the window. I would listen to them and smile, loving my little family with all of my heart. Oh, it was a beautiful dream!

And it was hard for me to give up that dream when Joseph said we must stay for awhile in Bethlehem. The first seven weeks, we stayed because we were so close to Jerusalem and Joseph thought it would simplify matters if we waited until my days of purification were over before we went back home. It would have been difficult to travel anyway, so soon after giving birth and with the baby himself so tiny and new.

While I longed to be in our own home in Nazareth, I trusted Joseph that it was best this way. I knew it had to be hard for him too, to work as a hired carpenter with borrowed tools when back home he had his own shop and was known for his craftsmanship. I kept my spirits up by reminding myself that soon we would be able to live a normal life.

By all standards, I guess, we were poor. When we prepared to go to the City to make the sacrifices required by the Law for a first-born son, I wept that we had no lamb to offer. Had we been living in our own home in Nazareth, I was sure we could have found some way to present the most desirable sacrifice—a lamb without blemish—as the ransom for the first-born who belongs wholly to the Lord. Two pigeons can be offered, the Law says, when a family cannot afford a lamb. Joseph assured me that the two birds he bought were, in the sight of God, an equally acceptable price for the buying back of our son.

But I grieved. Two fluttery gray birds was all this perfect child was worth? I would have redeemed him with a thousand perfect lambs! Joseph had to remind me again: the sacrifice is given to please God. That it doesn’t please us is of little consequence. If God is satisfied by what is offered, that is enough. I wiped my eyes and fashioned a little cage of slender willow branches for the birds.

I had fully expected to return to Nazareth as soon as our religious duties in Jerusalem were performed. “I don’t know exactly how to tell you this, Mary,” Joseph said when we were again in our little rented home. “I don’t think we should go back to Nazareth just yet.”

Not go back to Nazareth? I tried to conceal my disappointment, but Joseph touched my shoulder gently and added, “I’m sorry.” He sent word to a relative back home to close down the little carpenter shop or try to keep it open by hiring help, whichever seemed best. He himself worked when he could as an extra hand in the local shops. I settled down, as much as possible, in a house that was not my own in a city that I knew could never be home. I tried to be content, but I could not help always feeling just a little out of place.

The baby did not mind any of this a bit! He grew, alert and happy, into a delightful toddler who attracted people to our side wherever we went. However much I might feel like a stranger, Jesus did not, but smiled at everyone without discrimination and charmed one and all!

(To be continued)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Christmas Story: 15 - THE INNKEEPER'S WIFE Meets the Baby

An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife

Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.

THE INNKEEPER’S WIFE Meets the Baby

It seems as though I had been asleep for only a few moments, when we were both awakened by noisy clatter in the street below. Someone—several people—were singing, laughing, talking loudly.

Jacob went to the window where the first streaks of dawn were just peeping through. “What on earth?“ he mumbled. “They appear to be shepherds. Looks like they’re headed out to the fields, though for the life of me I can’t figure why they’d be in town at this time of day. Oh, well, go back to sleep, Anna. I’ll heat the water for breakfast.”

“I’m getting up,” I answered. “I want to check on the couple in the hay room.”

Mary was awake, lying on her husband’s cloak, a little blanket-wrapped bundle at her breast.

“The baby?” I breathed.

Mary nodded. “A little boy.” She turned the blanket back for me to see him. Carefully I touched the fuzzy little head.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come.”

“I know. There wasn’t time. Joseph helped me.”

I turned to the bearded man in astonishment. Midwives or other experienced mothers always attended births, or women simply brought forth their own children. “How did you know what to do?” I asked.

“I’ve helped with the birthing in the sheep pens before,” he explained. “It was only right to help this little Lamb come into the world.”

“Yes, of course,” I said, still puzzled.

“We had visitors a little while ago,” Mary said eagerly. “You just missed them. Shepherds who came to see the baby, the very first ones to welcome him!”

“Shepherds? I guess we must have heard them as they returned to their fields. But how did they know?”

“They told us the most amazing story,” Joseph explained. “An angel appearing in a blaze of glory to announce the good news of a Savior’s birth! A whole host of angels singing praise to God and pronouncing peace! A sign given so that they would know which child was the One—a swaddled baby, lying in a manger!”

“A Savior?” I protested. “But he’s so—he’s just a little baby!”

“Yes,” Mary said simply. “Isn’t it wonderful?” Clearly, she had no doubt in her mind that the story the shepherds told was exactly right. What could it all mean? I thought about it a lot as I busied myself preparing breakfast for the guests at our inn.

As the town came awake, several inns suddenly found that they had a place available for them, Mary told me. The shepherds had told everyone they met about the angels and the birth of a Savior and about finding the three of them in the cave. No respectable innkeeper could let a new baby stay in a stable, so they insisted he come inside.

“They must stay here with us,” I implored my husband. “We have the one room, you know. Remember Abraham and Sarah . . .”

“Ah, yes,” my husband said, “entertaining angels unawares. Well, have it your way. You and your soft heart . . . “

So before the end of the day, the little family moved into our vacant room. Until they could find a little house to rent reasonably, we would make them comfortable for an extended stay.

Just in case they were somebody important.

(To be continued)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Christmas Story: 14 - GABRIEL Readies the Heavenly Host; JOSEPH Greets the Shepherds

An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife

Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.

GABRIEL Readies the Heavenly Host

I answered the summons to the Throne eagerly. Perhaps there was news about the Son!

“Gather the hosts,” the Holy One told me. “It’s time to announce the birth!”

The Birth. I still had not been able to get my understanding around the miracle that was happening. But now that the Son was going to be born, perhaps the dreadful absence would be ended. “We miss him so. When will He know that we are waiting?”

“Later. Mary and Joseph will teach Him well. Then when He is twelve or so, He will be old enough to understand on his own. Be patient. And your task for the present is to let the world know that He has come to them. Go to the shepherds in the Judean hills.”

“Shepherds, Sir?”

“Yes. Of the many people on earth, I will make these shepherds the first who are able to see the Plan.”

JOSEPH Greets the Shepherds

Mary slept for a little while then, and I stayed awake to watch over my family. Just before dawn, I woke her, speaking softly. “Someone is here, Mary. They want to see the Baby. Is it all right?”

“Of course, let them come in. But how did they know?” They came in, shepherds from the neighboring pasturelands, eager to tell us the most amazing story:

While the men were on night watch, they had been terrified by the sudden appearance of an angel surrounded in blinding light. “Don’t be afraid!” the messenger had called out to them. “I am here to announce a great, joyful event! Just across the hills in Bethlehem, the Savior has come, the promised Messiah! When you look for Him, you will know Him because He is like you—not clothed in the regal garments of a king, but in the wrappings of a child of humble birth. He is not on a throne, but lying in a manager.” And just as the angel finished speaking, a huge angelic choir appeared, singing high praise to God and declaring that peace was now available to all who would seek it. When the angels had gone away, the sheepherders came as fast as they could to see for themselves what God had revealed to them.

The shepherds were quiet and humble when they came in, but when they left, I could hear them laughing, singing, shouting excitedly to their friends as they made their way back to the field. Clearly, they believed the coming of this baby was truly good news. What all could that mean? I thought about it a lot.

(To be continued)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Christmas Story: 13 - MARY Delivers the Baby

An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife

Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.

MARY Delivers the Baby

Well, so much for my hopes of a basin of water in which to wash, and the warm meal prepared for me by someone else, and the comfortable bed to lie on and sleep and sleep and sleep. I would just have to settle for a damp cloth to wipe off a little of the grime, a few bites of the same dark bread and cheese, and a pile of hay.

Joseph brought in the pail of water and lit our lamp. He pulled a feedbox across the doorway, to help me feel safe, I think. This place was indeed a bit rough, but he was trying so hard! I couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for this place.

“Will you be all right, Mary, if I sleep?” he asked when it grew late.

“Of course, I’ll be all right. You need to rest. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

He stretched out on a pile of hay near me, and soon gentle snores told me he was fast asleep.

I did not sleep. I was tired, so tired, but the pains that had merely warned me earlier were now beginning in earnest. At first they were not too great—I still felt in control—and I told myself over and over again, “I can do this. I can birth this baby myself if it comes to that. God is with me. I can do this.”

Still determined not to waken Joseph, I lay quietly as long as I could, until the pains began to come with terrifying intensity and so frequently that there was hardly any rest between. I wept. I prayed. I cried out to my mother silently: “Oh Mother, where are you? Why are you not here when I need you? I’m dying, I know I am. Oh, I wish I could die! I’m afraid, so afraid . . .”

“Oh Joseph! Joseph, help me!” The cry finally burst from my lips without my willing it.

He was up and at my side instantly. “Mary, are you all right?”

“No, I’m not all right!” I screamed at him. “Oh, help me!” I panted. “The baby is coming.”

Joseph drew back, pale at the sight of the blood. “I’ll go for someone,” he said. “Maybe an innkeeper's wife nearby—“

“No! No! Don’t leave me!” I pleaded wildly. “It’s too late. Here, put your hands on the baby’s head . . .”

“Mary, I can’t—the Law, you know—I shouldn’t touch the blood—“

Through the haze of pain, I glared at him. So I was, after all, going to be quite alone in this wilderness of anguish. I wanted my parents, but they were far away, made distant by the miles and the misunderstandings between us. I wanted Joseph. He was here, so close I could hear him breathing—but still not here at all, caught up in a world of holy “rightness.” Fear and pain had swept control out of my hands. O God, I didn’t know it would be this hard! Help me!

One more time I told myself, “I will do this,” and with clenched teeth bore down hard.

And suddenly, Joseph was helping. He turned the baby’s head, told me to push again. Again. And then again. There was a cry of life, and he was lifting the tiny, red infant and smiling broadly at him. Solemn Joseph, absolutely grinning with love and wonder!

He laid his own coat on a fresh place in the hay, and when he had helped me move there, he gently laid the baby at my breast. Carefully I touched the little crown of dark fuzz on top of the baby’s head. “Oh Joseph, he’s perfect! I’m so proud of him!”

“Yes,” Joseph said, his voice taking on a tone of puzzlement. “But he’s just so—he’s just a little baby!”

I had to laugh, even though it made me hurt. “Of course, he’s a little baby. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Someone, I guess, more—kingly.”

“With a crown and robes, I suppose!” I laughed again at the idea, and Joseph chuckled too before becoming serious again.

“I’m proud too, Mary,” he said. “Proud of the Baby. And proud of you,” and he tenderly stroked the sweat and tears from my face with his fingers.

I caught his hand and held it. “Thank you, Joseph. And thank you for helping. Even though the Law says . . . you know. . .“

“It was right to help the little one. And you.” He shrugged. “I can wash and be clean again, afterwards,” he said simply.

(To be continued)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Christmas Story: 12 - THE INNKEEPER'S WIFE Finds a Place

An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife

Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.

THE INNKEEPER’S WIFE Finds a Place

The inn-keeping business is not a lucrative one during ordinary times, at least not in a village the size of ours. Bethlehem lies just a few miles south of Jerusalem, so once in awhile we got travelers who were going to or coming from that city, and who wished for a quiet place to stay away from the bustling activity of the larger city.

It was with great excitement, then, that my husband announced to me one day that at last our fortune was turning. “Anna,” he cried delightedly, “the emperor has issued a decree that a census is to be taken, and everyone must go to their ancestral hometown to be registered. Think what that means! Hundreds of people, David’s descendants, will be coming to Bethlehem. Of course, they must have a place to stay. The inn will be full every night, God be praised!”

Such a flurry of washing and cleaning and baking followed! I was near exhaustion, but it was worth it to anticipate the income that would be generated when the rooms were all taken by travelers. We were only barely ready when they came—at first just a few, then more and more until we had a houseful of visitors day and night.

Late one evening after the guests had gone off to their rooms and we ourselves would soon retire for the night, a hesitant knock sounded at the door. “Who can that be?” Jacob wondered. “I took the light from the window hours ago. Anyone should know we can’t handle another soul tonight.”

He shuffled to the door and unlatched it. “We’re full,” he said almost before he had swung the door open. “We have no more rooms.”

I could hear a man’s low voice. “Please, sir, we have to have a place. Mary must lie down very soon.”

“Well, we have no room here,” Jacob repeated. “No room at all.”

“I know you must be very crowded,” the man said apologetically. “The whole city is swarming with people who are registering their families. But have you no place, not even a corner, where Mary can rest?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to look elsewhere.” The door began to creak shut.

“We have already asked everywhere. Every inn is full. Please, sir . . . “ A note of desperation crept into the man’s voice.

“Sorry,” Jacob said again. I could hear him lifting the latch to secure the door once he had closed it.

“Wait!” I called, hurrying to my husband’s side. I lowered my voice to an urgent whisper. “We do have a room, just one room—you know we do.”

“Well, of course. We always have the one room left in case someone of real importance should come at the last moment. But we can’t give that room to some ordinary traveler! You know that, Anna.”

“Who knows but that these might not be ordinary, Jacob,” I argued. “Think of Sarah, our foremother. She extended hospitality to angels without ever realizing it.”

“No, Anna.”

I looked at the young woman sitting on a tired donkey just outside the inn’s door. “Jacob, please.” Now I was the one begging. In hushed tones, I pleaded with him, “The poor girl is ready to give birth any minute. The labor pains have started; I can see it in her eyes.”

Jacob shrugged his shoulders. “What am I supposed to do?” he whispered back.

“I’ll think of something,” I promised blindly. “What about our own bed? We can sleep on the floor.”

“No, Anna.”

“We’ve got to help,” I insisted. “These are our people, David’s son and daughter. We can’t just turn them away when they’re in need.” I hesitated, a preposterous idea forming in my mind. “Jacob,” I said slowly, “what about the cave?”

“The cave?” Jacob asked, his eyes wide in surprise. “What are you thinking of? It’s a storage room for hay!”

“But it’s better than nothing!” I replied bravely. “Let me talk to the girl.”

Jacob stepped aside and I approached the young woman, offering my hand. “I understand,” I told her softly. “I would give you a room, but . . .”

The girl called Mary smiled wanly. “It’s all right,” she said.

“There is a cave over there,” I said, nodding toward a door-like opening among the rocks a few yards away from where I stood. “It would be warm and dry, at least. It’s a bit rough,” I added apologetically. “Part of it is being used as a stable. Do you think you could . . .”

“A stable?” I saw her swallow hard and then wince as a sudden sharp pang apparently helped her to make up her mind. “Yes, please. I’ll stay anywhere.”

“I will bring some blankets,” I told her, “and a pail of water.”

“Anna?” Jacob called impatiently from the doorway.

“I’m so sorry I cannot offer you more,” l said hurriedly. I took a long, close look at her again. That baby will come tonight, I thought, what with the long, rough trip the mother has just taken. “You’ll call if you need me,” I stated matter-of-factly.

Mary nodded and squeezed my hand.

In my bed, lying beside Jacob, I was awake for a long time, thinking about the young woman, wondering if she was all right, praying that the baby would arrive safely.

(To be continued)

MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)

Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com

The Christmas Story: 11 - JOSEPH Takes Mary with Him to Bethlehem

An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife

Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.

JOSEPH Takes Mary with Him to Bethlehem

When the decree was issued from Caesar Augustus that everyone had to be counted in a census and pay taxes in the city of their ancestry, I went to Mary. “I have to make the trip to Bethlehem, as does your father,” I told her. “But I would like for you to be registered under my name rather than your father’s. I think it’s time for us to acknowledge our marriage and declare ourselves a family. Do you think you could make the trip?”

“Oh Joseph, it’s so far!” she protested. “Well, it’s not really that far, but I know I’d never be able to walk. I can barely waddle around the house!”

“I’ll get a donkey. Could you ride, if we didn’t hurry? We would take as long as you needed to.”

“It makes me nervous to think about being away, with the baby coming so soon,” she objected. “What if we didn’t get back in time? It would be sad for him to be born among strangers. And who would help me with the birth?”

“I don’t know the answers to your questions, Mary. But it just seems right to me that we should do it this way. Don’t be afraid. I believe everything will happen just as it should.”

She looked at me carefully. She had been practicing trust for many months, ever since Gabriel had appeared to her on the day that now seemed so long ago. It couldn’t really be all that remarkable that once more she was being asked to trust a plan that did not make much sense to her. “I will go with you,” she said at last.

It was a difficult journey. I did all I could to make it easier for Mary, seeking out the smoothest parts of the road, steadying her with an arm when the going got rough. We paused to rest whenever I saw she was becoming too weary, but with Bethlehem just ahead of us, we moved faster and stopped less often, anxious to be in the city by nightfall. How wonderful it was going to be to wash off the dust, to eat a warm meal, to lie down and not move again until we were good and ready!

Mary winced. “What is it?” I asked quickly, sensing her distress.

“It’s nothing. I’m all right. But I think I should lie down soon.”

“We’re almost there,” I assured her. “Only a little while longer, and you can rest.”

But there was no place for her to rest. The city was crowded with people, more than I had ever seen anywhere at any time before. We tied the donkey, and made our way through the streets on foot. To our dismay, it was impossible to find a room. At inn after inn, the keepers waved us away. “Sorry. We were filled up hours ago,” they said, or “No room here. Move on.”

Mary was near tears. “Joseph, what are we going to do? I have to lie down. I have to. I have to! If we don’t find a place soon, I’m going to lie down right here in the street!”

“Oh, don’t be silly!” I said lightheartedly, but I knew my words did not cover the real anxiety I felt. “We will surely find some kind of shelter.”

(To be continued)

MaryMartha
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Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com