Traveling to Bethlehem, along the dusty road, in the mist of many others making the same journey. Compelled by the Roman leaders to do so. By chance I encounter an older, distant cousin of mine, Joseph, the carpenter from Nazareth, with him riding a donkey is his espoused pregnant, wife Mary. “Little Brother!”, he exclaims. For my name is Benjamin. After catching up a while with family and life events, I soon out pace them, and soon they are no longer in my line of sight. Bethlehem is crowded, loud and bustling. Arriving just before dark, with no family to stay with, no lodging available I decide to lay in the lower, hillside pastures just as my ancestor David would have done. My pack as a pillow, my eyes closed in prayer, sleep comes readily from a long day of walking. Awaken from the singing, praising of Shepherds returning to their flocks from a night in Bethlehem having and continuing to proclaim the birth of Saviour as announced to them from heavenly angels. “What is this news of the birth of a Messiah?”, I enquire. “Where?”, says I. As the dawn is breaking, I quickly arise and depart, back to the edge of the town. To my amazement, Cousin Joseph is standing looking unto the rising sun at the entrance of a manger. Mary with child at her bosom. A babe named Jesus, a child called Immanuel, God is with us! I’ve no tangible gift for this newborn King, save the most precious gift each of humankind may offer up: worship to the gracious heavenly Father. The same gift of the Shepherds. No one is without a gift to offer, nor is no one without a gift to experience this Christmas.
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