When we picture the birth of Jesus, it’s easy to imagine Mary and Joseph wandering from door to door, turned away by strangers until they finally end up in a wooden stable. But the real scene would have looked different.
Bethlehem, Joseph’s family home, was a small town. And because of the census, every home was overflowing with relatives returning all at once. Rooms were full. People were everywhere. The town was stretched far beyond what it was built to handle. In houses like these, animals were often kept in the lower room or in a small cave attached to the home. And in the middle of all that noise and congestion sat a manger, a simple stone feeding trough. It was warm, sheltered, and practical. It wasn’t ideal, but it was available.
I’ve always been struck by that. Not just because of how humble it was, but because it feels close to how life works for many of us. We don’t intentionally close God out. Our lives just get crowded. Responsibilities, worries, and even good things fill the main rooms of our attention before we realize there’s hardly any space left.
Yet Jesus comes anyway. He doesn’t wait for perfect conditions or a spotless room. He steps into whatever space is offered, even if it’s small and ordinary.
As we enter this season, my prayer is that we slow down enough to make room for Him. He doesn’t need much. He simply needs space.
-Mr. D