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Holidays

The Stable

It was a night that showed no sign
Of being any different from 200 nights before,
And peace was not the order of the day.
It was a long, exhausting trip,
But little choice was given when it came
To matters of a tax to pay.

The winding road had been a crowded thoroughfare
And little courtesy was shown the two young travelers
Who so often fell behind the pace.
And when at last the many paths converged
Outside the city gate,
Exhaustion and the pain of pending birth
Showed all too clearly on the woman's face.

A room—a place of rest and solitude—
Was all that mattered now.
All else would hold
A few more hours
Until the secret they had shared these many months
Would in the very sky be told.

But with each knock, each door that closed
The truth became more clear.
There was no room. Dear God, no room.
The young man hid his growing fear
As in that moment doubt that seemed so long ago resolved
Cast shadows on his face,
He thought, If this is really God's own Son,
Why is there not reserved a place?

"A place"—the words cut through his doubt.
" Behind the inn—a barn."
It was the keeper's voice.
One look at Mary's face dispelled all other thoughts;
He knew it was the only choice.

The only choice? Nay, God's own plan,
That in this way His own Son came.
‘Twas no misfortune, for in stepping from His throne,
He knew the world would never be the same.
As in that humble stall God's presence came to dwell that night.
The hay, the stable smells, the beasts themselves
Turned somehow gentle in that light.

So from the stable that same Light still shines
Across all time and years,
And sheds a glow that even in the darkness
Calms our fears.
Where we too find a refuge and can lay
Our earthly cares aside,
As in that humbleness of heart
God sends, still now,
His presence to abide.

Reprinted from December 1992 Pentecostal Evangel.

JUDI BRADDY is a writer, motivational speaker, licensed minister, pastor’s wife, mom and (very young) grandma. The author of four books--Prodigal in the Parsonage; It All Comes Out in the Wash; True North, and Simple Seasons--Judi has lived through scads of seasons and turned over a number of new leaves.  Basically she and King Solomon have come to the same conclusion—there is a time and season for everything.  Judi and husband, Jim, live in Elk Grove, California. For more information about her writing and speaking, visit her witty website at www.judibraddy.com.