Luke 2:1-7 
At that time the Roman emperor, Augustus, decreed that a census should be taken throughout the Roman Empire. (This was the first census taken when Quirinius was governor of Syria.) All returned to their own ancestral towns to register for this census. And because Joseph was a descendant of King David, he had to go to Bethlehem in Judea, David’s ancient home. He traveled there from the village of Nazareth in Galilee. He took with him Mary, to whom he was engaged, who was now expecting a child. 

And while they were there, the time came for her baby to be born. She gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him snugly in strips of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no lodging available for them. (NLT)

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So many agendas are at play in these verses. The emperor was building his empire. Quirinius was playing his part in extending Rome’s rule and control. People who had moved from one place to another due to necessity or opportunity had to return to their ancestral homelands to register for the census.

This set Joseph and his betrothed bride on the road at a delicate moment. A king greater than the emperor had a family line leading to Joseph. Joseph obeyed the emperor’s edict in service to a greater, more profound command regarding the birth of the one who would be called King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Augustus said he found Rome a city of clay and turned it into a city of marble. The king to be born would open a new pathway to a city paved with gold, a city where there is no more night, a city where there are no more tears, no more death, no more sorrow or crying or pain. (See Revelation 21:4.)

Augustus initiated an empire. You can visit its ruins today. Jesus initiated a Kingdom that will never fail, never fall, and never end. 

From the dawn of time in Eden’s gardens, a promise had been made that was now beginning to come true in a particular place in a particular time. Eternity invaded time. Light illumined darkness. The arc of history bent toward life. 

So simple are these words read. So easily are they absorbed. So much more is stated than understood.  

The time came.

The baby was born.

He was wrapped snugly in strips of cloth.

His bed was a feed trough. 

He arrived in the world he created. The place was dirty, stinky, and meant for other purposes. At this moment in time, in this place of sparse refuge, in this uncomfortable reality with all its competing storylines, heaven invaded earth.

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I will celebrate God’s redeeming love.

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Our Father, every pinprick forcing its light through midnight blue declares your glory. Every form of refuge against the perils of night is space you can use to begin something special. Every birth is sacred. Every child bears the hope of transforming love. As you did on that most special evening, take the simple realities of our lives and begin something bigger than the whole world. Use the daily ordinariness of our lives to broadcast your greatest of good news. Amen.