“The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.” Luke 2:20
Lord Jesus, I woke up this morning praying for friends who will need extra grace to make it through the rest of December, including Christmas. For many, the merriment of the season contrasts with the brokenness they’re feeling. The Day of all things new looks better and better for those whose lives are marked by all things “messy.” You “get” that, Jesus. More importantly, you care and you come near. You still do.
Choosing shepherds as the first recipients of your birth announcement was brilliant, beautiful, and deeply encouraging to us, Jesus. The shepherds got one of the first glimpses of your incarnate self—God as a baby. They beheld and marveled at your smallness, weakness, and utter dependence on your mother. You created Mary and came to save her; and she nursed you—giving her milk to the one who feeds the birds and clothes the fields. Holy, holy mystery… the greatness of smallness.
But when the shepherds left your manger, they were still “shepherds.” “Unfairness” was written all over their story. They still couldn’t worship at the temple, though they raised sheep for temple sacrifices. They still couldn’t give testimony in a court of law. Profiled as untrustworthy members of the community, they didn’t get a book deal, start a podcast, or get free falafel in the marketplace.
They returned to a difficult life, the social stigma of being shepherds, and a denarii-to-denarii existence. At one level, nothing changed; but in what matters most, everything changed. Jesus, there’s something magnificent about accepting things we cannot change—not acquiescing to injustice, but experiencing the deepest peace while we steward the greatness of our brokenness.
It won’t always hurt like this, but it does now, Jesus. We’re not looking for lessons to learn in our shepherd-like messes, but for you—the Good Shepherd. You laid down your life for us. Surely we can trust you with everything else. So Very Amen.