It’s Christmas Eve and I’m here. At work.
Maybe you are too? If so–I know what you must be feeling. Yes, we’re lucky to have jobs (to those who may think we’re ungrateful). Very lucky, in fact, when so many are in pain and turmoil while unemployed. But if we’re being candid, it can be hard to be away from family on a night that only comes once a year–a night meant for family. I hear ya, my friend.
Tonight I sit here in a quiet newsroom and I have some time to spare on my break, so I’m writing to you. The tapping of my keys are much louder than usual tonight because most of the desks around me are empty. Just the scanners behind me and a couple of voices play along with the sound of my typing. The televisions surrounding me flash different news channels, but they are soundless. So because I am here, my mind is wandering to 2,000 or so years ago, when the news of the day was simply: The Savior was born.
That has always been my favorite part of the nativity story, maybe because that’s just the storyteller in me. I love to think about how the good news quickly traveled through the nations that this little baby was born in a humble manger under a clear night sky. I love to think about how that news changed the course of history and the outcome of eternity.
On that star-filled night there were no scanners in news rooms, prompting reporters to go tell the story of a messianic birth. There were no newspaper headlines sensationalizing King Herod’s plot to kill the newborn king. There were no online posts or statuses proclaiming, “He’s come! The messiah is finally here!” with hundreds of likes or shares.
No, there were only whispered voices in a stable and men traveling with gifts from all across the land with no GPS units or maps–only a star to guide the way. A star they had complete and utter faith in.
There were only the echoes of the voices of prophets already gone from the earth that resonated in the hearts of man and caused people to look up from what they were doing and recognize the signs of the miraculous birth. There were only words from an ancient book studied for hundreds of thousands of years, preparing a world for a redeemer. No date. No location. Simply a message of faith.
And still. The world looked toward the star. The redeemer had come.
Now 2,000 years later, the way we get our news has taken on different forms. It’s louder–more brilliantly colored and lavishly expressed. It travels more quickly and fades away even faster. But even with the spike in amazing technology and the craze of media, there is STILL no greater news than the news that came those many years ago: That the Lord is come.
And I think that something we’ve forgotten over the years that have come and gone, is it is STILL news. People still need to hear about that baby in the hay with eyes faced toward Heaven. There are still people who hear the loud clang of news reports and movies and popular music but who haven’t heard the good news that their Savior already came to deliver them and bring them peace in their lives and order to the madness. There is still good news for us to spread.
I imagine the excitement of that holy night oh so many years ago–the way God’s people trembled at the news and spread it like wildfire with tears of joy in their eyes. I imagine the way a prophecy that had come to pass would be cause to shout with cheer and grant so much hope and meaning to the lives of those who simply looked up to see the star. Because of that night…how much more joy should we have? How much more excited should we be to share the news?
Without a map, without a star, with only a heart full of faith and love–be sure to go seek him.
Because the good news is that he’s still alive and well because of that silent night–still offering peace. Love. Eternal families. Comfort. And joy.