Christmas Questions…

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Things I wonder:

How did Joseph feel when the census was announced? Did he remember the prophecy about Bethlehem?

How did Joseph feel when he couldn’t provide for his little family? Didn’t even have a spot for his wife to give birth?

Who attended Mary while she, a virgin, gave birth? Was there a midwife? Or was it only Joseph? How long was she in labor? And how scared was Joseph?

Did Jesus look like Mary? Or his grandparents? Or anyone else in his family line? What about Joseph? Did His Heavenly Father give Jesus some of Joseph’s features just for fun?

Did the animals in the stable recognize their Creator when He was born?

How much of the redemption plan did the angels understand when they sang, “Glory to God in the highest!”?

What did the sheep do when there was suddenly “a multitude of the heavenly hosts, praising God and saying…”?

Were those shepherds the only ones in the hills that night? Did the insomniacs of Bethlehem see the light in the distance and wonder what was happening? Or did God close their eyes and ears to the spectacle?

How did Mary feel when a bunch of unwashed shepherds showed up shortly after she had given birth?

Did Jesus sleep through their visit?

What “house” did the wise men find them in? And how old was Jesus when they finally arrived? Did the star show up the night he was born? Or was it in the sky earlier?

How many wise men were there? And did they know each other before the journey? Or did their caravans converge on the way to Jerusalem?

How many of Jesus’ siblings were born in Egypt?

What was the age difference between Jesus and his next oldest sibling?

Did Mary ever look at Jesus’ brothers and sisters and say, “Why can’t you be more like Jesus?”
Things I know:

Because a tiny baby was born to a virgin in a stable in Bethlehem, one day I can get all my questions answered.
I can chat with Joseph about how he felt.
I can talk to the wise men about their journeys – the exciting one to Bethlehem via Jerusalem and the covert one as they returned home another way to escape King Herod.
I can meet Jesus’ brothers and sisters.
I can ask Mary to share her side of the story.
Beginning at the stable – but continuing to the cross.
I can ask her what it felt like to watch her firstborn son be slaughtered 33 years after that night in Bethlehem.
And how she felt when she came upon the empty tomb three days later.

Because that tiny baby was born, lived a perfect life and then died to take my punishment upon himself, I can one day look into His eyes.
Be held in His arms.
Thank Him in person for coming.
For staying.
For living an example for me to follow.
For dying in my place.
And for being the answer to every question I will ever have.

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