The Messenger

He sped through the void, an ancient Authority trailed by an army of grave Dignities, together a legion of radiance and power. He thought nothing of the emptiness of space. Indeed, he did not perceive the emptiness, for wherever he flew he was bathed in the brightness of the One-Who-Is. He had been sent from the High Throne to bear a message from the One to the little creatures of that distant world.

Distant? In one way, certainly. One of the smaller globes whirling about a rather insignificant star perched on the edge of a nondescript galaxy, this world was a mere speck in the cosmic expanse. On the other hand, it was not distant at all, for here the One-Who-Is had shaped beings like Himself and had breathed His own breath into them. While the One saw everything always, He had focused His purpose upon this tiny planet. Here He had planned a drama that was unfolding like a long story in chapters of creation, fall, calling, redemption, tribulation, and consummation. A new chapter of that epic was about to open.

The Authority reflected that he had often journeyed this way in the past. He had once been sent to a man on the banks of the Ulai to deliver an explanation that outlined the future of this little world. Later on, he had been sent to that same tired man, this time to tell of a coming Anointed One. The man had written down these descriptions, and the information had become an important center of attention for those who anticipated the Anointed One.

They were so weak, these men. They trembled in his presence. They were so blind to the brightness of the One that they often mistook the messenger’s reflected radiance for the one true light. Repeatedly he had to reject their adoration. He knew by observation that they grew weary and old and that they died—none of which he could experience. Yet he knew that, small and weak as they appeared, some day they would judge his kind.

Only a short time ago, the One-Who-Is had sent him to bring news to a childless priest. The pitiful old man had nearly fainted when he had seen him beside the altar. The news was good, though—the man and his wife would bear a child in their old age, and the child would be remarkable indeed. The man had not believed him. The Authority remembered wryly how he had struck the man mute until the child would be born. When his speech was finally restored, however, old Zacharias couldn’t be silenced. It was as if he had stored up nine months’ worth of praise that just had to spill out.

And then there had been that girl in Nazareth, who received the most important message he had ever carried. Talk about an astonishing announcement! Even he, spirit that he was, knew enough of human anatomy to recognize its impossibility. She was a virgin, but he was sent to announce that she would bear a Son. Unlike the old man, she had believed, though she had not understood. He admired the faith which moved her immediately to submit. There would be shame, he knew, and there would be the difficult problem of her legal husband, an older man with whom she had never yet lived. None of that held her back. She was indeed highly favored among women, just as He had said.

What followed that event was something that he still could not understand. The Second of the One-In-Three, without ceasing to be who He had always been, took upon Him a human nature in her womb. While still (in one sense) the mighty Creator and Sustainer, He was also now (in another sense) as small and weak as any of these frail creatures. He subjected Himself to the limitations of these little beings in order that He might redeem them from their sins. The Authority considered the mystery as he shot across the expanse: he had always served the One-Who-Is. And yet, here, the Second of the One had become one of His own creations, adding to His eternal nature as the One a complete human nature. In doing so, He had lowered Himself to a position that was actually beneath that of the Authority and the legion of Dignities who streaked toward the earth.

The husband had been a bit of a problem. He naturally assumed that his young bride had been unfaithful. He was a just man, and he was going to divorce her quietly. The Authority, however, had appeared to the man in a dream, and that man had played a noble part. Joseph had taken the girl into his home and treated her as his wife in every way except one. The child was not his biological descendent, but it was his legal son and heir.

And now, in the middle of the night, in a stable far from home, the Second of the One-In-Three was born of a woman. He uttered an infant’s cries as He was washed, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger. Yet He was the Chosen One, the Anointed One. The Authority and his legion had been sent from the High Throne to announce the birth—not to kings and counselors, as one might expect, but to shepherds.

Here he was now, in the earth’s atmosphere. The Judean hills were beneath him. The moment had arrived. He tore aside the veils that usually shielded him from human view and watched as the shepherds beheld him. Their staves clattered to the ground as their upturned faces turned to terror. They began to cringe away, but the mighty Authority called out in a voice that rang like a trumpet,

Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

As the legion of Dignities burst into their sight, the shepherds were surrounded by the army of heaven, a multitude praising God and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Thus Gabriel, who had foretold the time of Messiah’s arrival some five centuries before, proclaimed His birth to the shepherds. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.

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For the sake of the scrupulous, I point out that I have assumed that Gabriel was the angel who appeared in Matthew 1 and Luke 2. Since he was certainly the angel who appeared twice in Luke 1, this assumption is very probably accurate.

See, Amid the Winter’s Snow
Edward Caswall (1814-1878)

See amid the winter’s snow,
Born for us on earth below,
See, the gentle Lamb appears,
Promised from eternal years.

Lo, within a manger lies
He Who built the starry skies;
He Who, throned in height sublime,
Sits amid the cherubim.

Say, you holy shepherds, say,
Tell your joyful news today.
Why have you now left your sheep
On the lonely mountain steep?

“As we watched at dead of night,
Lo, we saw a wondrous light;
Angels singing ‘Peace on earth’
Told us of the Savior’s birth.”

Sacred Infant, all divine,
What a tender love was Thine,
Thus to come from highest bliss
Down to such a world as this.

Teach, O teach us, holy Child,
By Thy face so meek and mild,
Teach us to resemble Thee,
In Thy sweet humility.

Hail that ever blessèd morn,
Hail redemption’s happy dawn,
Sing through all Jerusalem:
Christ is born in Bethlehem.