I had stood watch over the flock on nights like this one more times than I could count. The flock was quiet, with the lambs nestled close to the ewes. It was going to be a tiring night, with no moon to offer betraying shadows to any predators deciding to hunt our sheep. Overhead, the canopy of stars spoke of God's promise to Father Abraham made so many generations earlier.

My turn at watch had just ended. I whistled the low trill of the grouse to alert my young brother that his time had arrived to be alert. He mimicked my call, careful not to rouse the flock. With no winds to mask the cautious steps of the prairie wolves, I would be able to listen for their advance, even as I napped. I found a flat spot on the rocky outcrop and rested my head and closed my eyes.

Suddenly, a brilliant light flashed. It chased away the darkness, even from behind my closed eyes. I sat upright and raised my arm to shield my sight. In front of me, the flock had startled and scurried chaotically in every direction. My brothers ran to me and together we saw the source of the light at the same moment.

It was a messenger of God.

He appeared as a man, but not like any man I had ever seen. And the glory of God came out from around him. We could not behold him. We fell to our faces, huddling together in terror.
Then, with a voice that sounded like the call of ten men, the angel spoke.

It was an angel, giving words of comfort.

"Do not be afraid," he said.

I slightly lifted my head, peering upward at this majestic creature. He gestured at me and continued. "I bring good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior who is Christ the Lord."

Instantly, a host from heaven appeared around the heavenly messenger, as though they stood upon an unseen platform taller than any man-made construction. Together, they sang.

Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.

Then, just as suddenly as they had arrived, they were gone.

The night was again black and moonless. No wind whispered a clue to where they had gone. The flock instantly calmed and went back to their night's routine, as if nothing had even happened.

Finally, I stood on wobbly legs and looked around. I picked up my staff and offered it as an aid to my brothers. The silence rang in my ears and seemed to demand that I say something to acknowledge what we had witnessed.

"Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about," I said.

My brothers agreed that this was the right thing to do.

We quickly gathered our flock and made our way the short distance to Bethlehem. The journey was silent. I could not understand why this angel had come to me, to us. As shepherds, we are continually unclean, unlike the Pharisees. We are unworthy, unlike the scribes who study the law. Yet, as we approached Bethlehem, it was obvious that the city of David slept, wholly unaware of who had been born within its walls.

Again, I marveled at the angel's words. "Savior." We have been asking God to save us from Roman rule and Parthian threats for generations. "Christ." We aren't schooled men, but we knew this Greek word meant "Messiah," the one who God had been promising for ages. This savior would lead us because he had been anointed by God.

The angel also said this one who was born was "Lord." He was the one who born to be our king!

We entered the city by the sheep gate, as was custom for us to do. We were far from where the wealthy and important families slept. Though we did not know where we were going, we easily found the baby. The child's father greeted us at the door and he smiled as we told our story. He shared that he, too, had been visited by an angel. He bade us to enter.

Just like the angel said, he slept in a manger, wrapped in swaddling cloths. We gathered around the makeshift crib and we simply watched him.

We worshipped him.

I can't tell you how long we stayed in his presence, but I can relive every moment like each second was a lifetime. At one moment, the baby woke and stirred. He cooed as babies do, and hiccupped. I stood over him and thanked God for this gift.

He was ordinarily beautiful. Though plainly human, the angel had told us he was divinely regal.
Eventually, we quietly stepped away from his presence.

Light was breaking and this part of the city was beginning to stir as the day's duties beckoned. We could not keep this news to ourselves. We ran down the roads telling everyone we met, yelling, "God has kept His promise! He has sent His Savior! To God be the glory!"

***

I look back at that amazing night where an angel of the Lord invited me to sit in the presence of our King, and I can scarcely believe that more than thirty years have passed since then.

I still tend flocks, but long ago I moved my family to Jerusalem. The completion of another Passover usually gives me reason to rest, but today I am troubled in my spirit.

You see, just a few days earlier on the eve of Passover, I watched from afar as Roman Centurians hammered spikes through the wrists and ankles of a rabble-rousing Rabbi. They nailed him to the cross.

In our time when we celebrate how God delivered us from Pharaoh, I was part of the crowd that watched this man—one of our own—be killed because he committed crimes worse than those of Barabbas.

They said that he was guilty of blasphemy. They said he was a threat against Rome. They said he was an agent of Satan.

Others, though, said he was kind. They said he taught the people about God. He healed people. They said he could provide miracles. They said he was a friend to sinners.

He was arrested at midnight, and all his followers fled in fear. Alone, he faced this hangman's jury. He should have been stoned to death according to our laws if he were truly guilty, but he was tried in the Roman court. So Pilate commanded him to carry his own cross to Golgotha.

The news quickly spread. The one known as "The King of the Jews" would be crucified. Just days earlier, crowds were worshipping him. Now, they gathered and mocked him.

At Golgotha, he was nailed to the cross and hung to die. The audience surrounded him and taunted him. The centurions had cruelly jammed a crown of thorns atop his head, scorning his reign over we people of Israel.

I watched from afar as this tragedy unfolded. I was too afraid to come near. My soul was ripped in two as I watched him suffer needlessly.

I was too far away to hear the words he spoke to the two criminals on either side of Him.
One smiled peacefully in his last moments. The other wept bitterly in his.

Now, this man in the middle was alone on his cross, abandoned by everyone. I approached the cross, but was too fearful to draw near, less someone identify me as one of his followers.
Truly, he had been abandoned by everyone.

Without warning, he cried out, "Father, why have you forsaken me?”

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "it is finished."

And he was gone.

Of course, you know these events are connected.

That man who died. He was that baby who was born.

I met him laying in the manger, and I saw him nailed to the cross.

I met him wrapped in swaddling cloths, and I watched him be stripped of his robe and his dignity.

He was introduced by the angelic choir, but he died rejected and alone.

His name was Jesus.

The angel called him Savior. Christ. Lord.

So did I.

In the shadow of the cross, the manger seems so far away, so long ago.

***

It was three days ago when his friends and followers took him down from the cross and buried him in a borrowed tomb. This morning, though, the most unusual news spread through Jerusalem.

Mary (the one who was once demon-possessed), Peter (the fisherman), and the one Jesus loved like a brother (I think his name is John) have come announcing that the tomb of Jesus is empty. They claim the stone had been rolled aside and the grave lay empty, except for the burial cloths that once covered him. They say that Jesus is alive!

I had to see it for myself. I made the short journey, again feeling as though my steps were guided and the truth was unfolding before me. My sorrow changed to hope as I approached the grave and bent down to peer inside its dark depths.

The tomb is empty!

Jesus is alive!

He is the Savior!

He is the Christ!

He is Lord!

He is alive!