Visitors

By John Dawkins    1st December 2002    0 responses

The young woman carefully avoided the gaze of the taxman as he passed by. It wasn’t pangs of guilt that made her look away, she knew her father had paid his Roman taxes just the day before. It was the custom of her people to look down in the presence of a man who was not of the same family.

The scruffy tax collector merged into the solid stream of people trudging up the dusty street from Nazareth’s market. Mary, standing in the doorway of her parents’ house, absent mindedly brushed a pile of dust into the street. Her mind was filled with a vision of a man. Not a tax man, not even a Nazarene, but a man from out of town who had stolen her heart.

Joseph Bar Jacob was a craftsman from Bethlehem who had set up a joinery business just across the street. Since the moment she had unwittingly caught his gaze as he made furniture in his workshop, Mary had been irresistibly drawn to this quiet, handsome man. Now, after months of courtship, they were engaged and she seemed to live in a dream world.
Those dreams suddenly vanished as she felt something move behind her. She spun around in the doorway, half expecting to see someone standing there. Impossible, as she knew she was alone in the house.

All the same, there was dust in the air and Mary had an uncanny feeling that something scary was happening. She gasped as the room began to get brighter, lit not from the street but from within. She was aware of a sound, a rich, musical sound which reminded her of… she never identified that sound because she fell to the ground in an untidy heap as the bright light in the centre of the room fused into the shape of a man. A very tall man. So tall that, even though she could clearly see his head, it appeared to be far higher than the rough timbers of the ceiling.

Then the apparition spoke. Not with the voice of a man but with a sound like distant thunder.

“Don’t be afraid, Mary,” she heard the man say. She heard what he said perfectly but she continued to shake like a leaf.
“Your simple lifestyle and caring nature has been noticed by The Creator. He has chosen you for a very special task and the world will honour you for it”.

Mary’s eyes, wide with fright, gazed up at the golden light surrounding the man’s head. He smiled. “You will have a baby and he will grow up and save the human race from certain destruction”. Mary sat upright and stammered “B-b-but sir, I’ve only just got engaged. You must be mistaken!”

The man, smiling still, bent nearer to Mary. “The Creator never makes a mistake, Mary. You will be overshadowed by his presence yet remain unblemished. You will have a son and call him Jesus. Don’t worry about Joseph, I’ve already spoken to him in a dream”.

Mary swallowed hard. She wanted to say “It’s not true, I’m just dreaming,” but murmured instead “May it be as you say.” As soon as the words had left her lips, the room was dim again and the music, along with the man from another world, was gone.

MASTER PLAN

In that other world, beyond earthly time and space, a great crowd had gathered. Around each figure hovered a golden glow, a reflection of a greater light at which they all gazed. To one side, the man whom Mary was to see, spoke. “Behold, The Creator.”

A voice like the sound of many waterfalls came from the centre of the golden light which bathed the countless figures.
“My friends, now we can reveal our rescue plan, in which many of you will have an active part”. A cheer went up before a hush once more descended. “You know that I have loved those wayward people down there since the beginning. They have tried my patience with their obstinate and foolish ways. I have longed to speak intimately with them but they insist on turning away. I have decided that the only way to win them back is to go down there myself and become one of them.”

Voices were heard in the crowd whispering “How can he do that? He is the one that keeps the universe together!”
Even as they questioned the wisdom of The Creator a remarkable thing happened. The dazzling, golden light flashed brilliantly and slowly became two lights. The light that had appeared to the right of The Creator began to take on the form of a human being. “This is part of me,” The Creator explained. “My people will know him as my son and will call him Jesus. He will enter their world as a baby and grow up as one of them. He will make the ultimate sacrifice so that their waywardness will never again get in the way of our conversations”.

Once more a shout of approval filled the air. “Even now I am placing a bright new star in their skies, although the travellers who follow it will not find my son until he has been there for two of their years. Some of you will announce my son’s arrival using the music of their world but with the richness and perfection of ours.

“Gabriel here will soon visit a very special young lady whom I have noticed. My son will enter their world through her but they will enter ours through him.”

SUMMONED

In the fading light of a Nazarene evening, Mary and her mother were packing bags.

Secretly Mary was beginning to regret her liaison with the man from Bethlehem. It wasn’t his fault that she was pregnant, she knew that the life inside her was from another world even though Joseph doubted it.

No, what annoyed her was that she had to travel all the way to Bethlehem for a Roman census. Caesar’s timing was diabolical.

“If it wasn’t for the Occupation I wouldn’t be doing this,” Mary said bitterly to her mother. “All because some high and mighty Roman wants to boast about his conquest of our country”. Her mother smiled kindly. “Never mind dear, Joseph will take care of you. He’s a good man.”

“Oh I know he is, mother. It’s the baby,” Mary replied, placing her hand on the bump. “I’m so afraid the baby won’t wait until we get back home”.

It was almost dark when Joseph returned, breathless. “I’ve found a donkey for you to ride, Mary!” he gasped, flopping down on a bench. Mary peered outside into the gloom and saw the animal tied to a rail.

Early the next morning, after tearful farewells, Mary’s father helped her onto the donkey while her mother placed a shawl and a drinking flask among the bags on Joseph’s hand cart. A long, dusty – and, for Mary, painful – journey lay ahead.

OVERBOOKED

“No, Aaron, I won’t do it!” the old man shouted, banging his drink down on the rough-hewn table. “That makes it three nights in a row. I’m not going to do your night watch for you.” Several heads turned to witness the argument.

The unmistakeable aroma of sheep and woodsmoke wafted across from the corner of the crowded hostelry in one of Bethlehem’s backstreets as the shepherds bickered over the rota for the following night on the hills.

In the doorway another argument was in progress. The innkeeper, known to the locals as ‘Darius the Devious’, was trying to deal with two groups of travellers who each claimed to have reserved the same room. Like other traders in the town, Darius had taken far too many bookings that day, hoping to cash in on the influx of census visitors.

It was Darius’ long-suffering wife Martha who resolved the situation. She took pity on one weary couple and offered to put them up in the lean-to at the back with the other travellers’ animals. “At least there’s shelter and warmth,” she said to the heavily pregnant woman, “if you can stand the smell!”

In the street outside, old Joel was not happy. Aaron had persuaded him to swap his night watch despite his protests and now he was determined that the following night on the hills would be his last.

MESSENGERS

Far beyond, in a place where the sun never sets, hordes of gleaming messengers were about to break through into earth’s dimensions.

Under the leadership of Michael the Archangel, they had rehearsed ‘Proclamation’, a musical work of heavenly proportions, translated carefully into Hebrew and now, even as the light of their appoach began to flicker across the clouds above Bethlehem, they prepared to unleash themselves on the unsuspecting sheep-minders below.

NIGHT FRIGHT

Four hours after sunset was usually a good time for reminiscences. Gathered round the embers of a fire, the five men were listening to old Joel recalling his years of service in the temple courtyards. Although he was there to prepare the daily stream of animals brought for sacrifice, he managed to spend time with the educated men who studied the law and the prophets.

“Ah, in those days I used to believe that it would all come true,” he said, his eyes misty with nostalgia. “All those ancient scriptures that spoke of a Messiah coming to rule with justice for all. I suppose it will never happen now although, in the sweet name of Israel, we need someone to kick out these lousy Romans!”

As he spoke, old Joel kicked one of the logs on the fire and a shower of sparks flew into the night sky. “Holy Moses, Joel! Did you see that?” One of the other men was pointing upwards. Five pairs of eyes followed suit. “The clouds… they’re… alive!” Above them, the clouds seemed to be lit from within like a lightning storm with a golden tinge. The flickering light grew in its intensity until the whole hillside was lit. “What is it, Joel?” asked one of the younger shepherds with a trembling voice. “Let’s find somewhere to shelter, quick!”

The men remained motionless, however, as a strange musical sound filled the air. Then it seemed as though the clouds above them burst open and an army of dazzling figures streamed out. They formed a vast circle around the hillside where the men stood huddled together with fright.

“Get down, Joel! One of them is coming to get you!” shouted one of the men, grabbing the sleeve of his coat. As Joel sank to the ground, a majestic figure floated down and stood about 10 paces away. Standing almost as tall as the nearby trees, he began to speak with a sound like thunder.

“Don’t be afraid, my friends. I have good news for you. Today, Joel, your dreams are fulfilled along with those prophesies you recall so clearly.

“This very night, in the town over there, a baby has been born. Not just any baby, but one who will bring peace and wholeness to this nation and people everywhere. Waste no time, my friends, seek out this child. See, I will light your way.”

The gleaming figure reached inside his clothing and produced a fiery ball that burned so brightly that the men had to shield their eyes. Taking careful aim, the messenger flung the object towards the town below. It traced an arc of light across the sky but stopped abruptly before hitting the houses. The shepherds gasped as it hovered motionless above roof of a house.

A crescendo of music filled the air and the shepherds turned to see that the messenger had disappeared. The bright figures above the hillside were slowly rising into the clouds, singing as they went.

Joel was convinced that he had heard the voice of God and, with heart racing, led the others down the rocky path towards the town where the strange light still hovered.

MESSIAH

Mary had discovered the shawl that her mother had hidden among the bags. “Oh, she thinks of everything!” she had said to Joseph. Mary’s worst nightmare had happened. No sooner had they settled down to sleep in a corner of the lean-to, her labour pains had begun. Now, several hours later, she was nursing her newborn child which she had wrapped in her mother’s shawl.

In all the trauma of childbirth, the couple had not noticed the bright light which now mysteriously shone above the house. It bathed everything with a shimmering, golden glow and Joseph, stepping outside to see it, knew it was a sign. Mary’s incredible story about an out-of-this-world visitor now seemed believable.

“Mary, you were right,” he said softly as he bent down to touch the baby’s head. “This is the child of God”.
A man approached, breathing heavily. He stopped, looked up at the fiery object, and stepped onto the carpet of straw near Joseph’s donkey. “Yes! He’s here!” the old man gasped, beckoning to five others who had followed him to the house.

Joseph listened intently as the pungent visitors told the new parents about what had happened on the hillside.
Mary smiled, despite her discomfort. Deep down, she treasured that moment and wondered what would become of the child in her arms.

Leave a Reply

Allowed tags: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong> <span style="">

Notify me of followup comments via e-mail. You can also subscribe without commenting.

By John Dawkins

What's On Crossring

Crossring is a community of Christians who meet together online in fellowship around the Christian faith and the Bible.

As part of our active lifestyle of prayer and Bible reading, we are currently reading a small section of the Bible together each day and sharing our responses to it with each other. We also publish a short devotional thought on a key verse or two from each day's passage to prompt prayer or reflection.

Introducing Daily Readings

Introducing Crossring Forums