This article is part of the series: A Shepherd’s Story
A Shepherd’s Story: Part 2
The first witnesses weren’t kings or rulers but shepherds. This retelling captures the wonder of that night and the message meant for everyone.
Read Time: 5 minutes
EDITOR’S NOTE: This series by Brother George examines various fictional and non-fictional characters who met the Lord Jesus and how this meeting, and for some, that friendship, changed their lives. May it cause us to remember how the Lord has changed us. By nature of the genre, George has elaborated on the record by attempting to envision the Biblical scenarios and draw out possible details. Each article ends with notes that help substantiate his creative license or indicate where license has been taken. These stories are based upon the true Biblical record and, in large part, on real people. May you find that they help you remember that the Biblical record is real and true, and that one day we will hear the complete details of these people’s lives.
The angel’s words turned over in my mind. A King, the savior, had been born. And we would find him lying in a manger. But where? Bethlehem wasn’t large, but where would we find this special manger?
Then the thought came to me, with the greatest of clarity, as though the spokesman of the angelic choir was conveying a special message to me directly: just over the nearby hill, at the Tower of the Flock, there were stalls with feeding troughs for the ewes! As soon as this thought came to me, I knew what to do. I called out to the shepherds nearby, and they relayed the message to their neighbors beyond them, until even those on the most distant hills heard also: “Let’s go back to the tower, right now!”
I saw what I never expected to see: good shepherds running away from their flocks, as though to abandon them. Only “hired” shepherds would do such a thing, and only if threatened! But then I remembered that in the sky above us, there were great companies of angels, whose business it was to watch over human beings and their affairs. Of all times, now was not the time to doubt or quibble about such a message. And so we all abandoned our first duty. We ran away, not even looking back, and headed for the little tower we could see just beyond the hills.
We arrived at the Tower of the Flock, one after another, breathless. The great light in heaven had disappeared, and a few stars twinkled on the dark fabric of the sky above. In the deep of night, there was precious little light to be found, only a very faint glow from the nearby village, and another weak light from inside the shelter.
The overwhelming sight of the angels and the heavenly light had disappeared, but in the flickering light of a small fire, we saw a greater miracle than we had just witnessed on the hills. There, among ewes nursing their young, scattered about on the hay, in a small trough where the ewes might have been fed, there was now a fresh batch of hay laid out. And on that hay, wrapped in small cloths, there was a little baby!
Near the feeding trough, a young woman was lying on the hay with a man we assumed to be her husband. She was obviously exhausted from her labor, and she spoke not a word, yet her smile seemed to light up the whole shelter. What was it? A smile of joy? Of satisfaction? Of vindication? A smile of one who treasures a great secret, before anyone else even knows there is a secret to be treasured? The smile of a woman who has been closer to the Almighty than any of the great kings and prophets? A smile of one who, like us, has seen her own angel and heard her own message from God, meant just for her? All of this, I think, and more.
What can I say? Like all my friends, I have spent my life as a shepherd, caring for the mothers and the young as best I could. Somehow, I felt that I had received my reward, as had all the other faithful shepherds, and all in the last few minutes. Now I had seen a young woman, a young mother, who had borne a little “lamb,” a “lamb” who, according to the angel’s words, would save his people—and from what? From predators, from starvation and thirst, from their enemies? I had seen the true “Lamb of God,” resting, not in a king’s palace, nor even in a great temple dedicated to Yahweh, but in a small out-of-the-way place, with other little newborns. Our little outpost in the wilderness, so unpretentious, had been the scene of the greatest of all miracles. What had the angel said? “Good news of great joy to all peoples!” Even ordinary shepherds.
“That Will Be to All People”
I cannot tell you what all the other witnesses were thinking, but it must have been something like what I felt. Outside and around us, over the hills, in the homes, and along the roads in every direction, there were rulers, priests, rich men, and generals, who were themselves in the dark at that very moment. And all around us there were also myriads of ordinary people, some who believed in the Lord God, and others who had never heard of Him. This little “lamb” would bring “great joy” to all of them—all of them, that is, who could pause long enough in their daily rush of events to listen.
Over the next hours, we shepherds learned more of the story. The young couple, Joseph and Mary, from Nazareth in the far north, had come to Bethlehem for the gathering and census as decreed by the Roman emperor Augustus, for they were descended from those who lived in this area, and especially from the great King David. But, because they were ordinary people who would attract little attention, and because they had arrived in Bethlehem too late to find accommodations in the crowded town, they had finally found shelter at Migdal Eder.
There, the special child had been born, among the sheep and the lambs, with the shepherds of Bethlehem as nurses and caregivers. The strong and calloused hands of powerful shepherds, hands which had fought off predators of all sorts, now helped the young mother with her child—just like they had helped countless ewes bring their babies into the world. Men accustomed to hardship of every imaginable kind now served as God’s “angels,” also, watching over and caring for the little family with all the gentleness they could muster. I smiled as I considered the scene, and then I cried but felt no embarrassment.
The angel had told us, “Unto you!” Unto us, the shepherds on the hills of Jerusalem, had come this magnificent revelation. But not just “unto us”—much, much more than that: “unto all peoples!”
Now, like the heavenly angels who announced the good news to us, we shepherds would become the next generation of “angels,” proclaiming to others the great manifestation we had witnessed on the hills near Bethlehem and at Migdal Eder: a savior and a Lamb of God who would save his people. And because many of us, at one time or another, would find ourselves in Jerusalem—where we sold lambs for sacrifices at Herod’s great temple—we would have many opportunities to tell others the good news. At that time, we knew only a small part of the message, but it was enough to capture the attention of others who looked for salvation to come to Israel, in one form or another. So we did what we could to carry out our mission.
My Testimony
I realize that I might not live long enough to see the harvest of this little “seed” planted among us. But I thank God that I have seen this much, and as far as I am concerned, the evidence is indisputable. We shepherds, will relive this special night around the campfires, with one another and with our families, as long as we live.
I hope and pray that my children and their children will learn more of this wonderful story as it continues to unfold, and that some of them may live to see the culmination of what began at our Tower of the Flock.
I do not doubt that there is, and will yet be, much evil in the world, even in Bethlehem and Jerusalem. But I also believe, without a doubt, that the story which began with us shepherds will have a happy ending, an ending that will change Israel and the whole world, for the better, and forever.
Just as there is an all-powerful God of love and mercy in heaven, who sends sunshine and rain, I know that “good news” and “great joy” will, in the long run, drive out bad news and fear and hate.
I will hold fast to this great truth until my last breath.
George Booker,
Austin Leander Ecclesia, TX
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