O Little Town of Bethlehem

“O Little Town of Bethlehem” paints the picture of a sleepy, unassuming town that serves as the setting for the unprecedented act of God entering the world as a human being. There was no doubt many people living in Bethlehem at the time of Jesus’ birth had no idea that an anointed young woman was birthing a divine child that night. Although we look back on Christ’s birth as an indescribably important moment in history, for the people living in Bethlehem at the time, most were completely unaware of what had taken place. And yet Bethlehem, “above thy deep and dreamless sleep” is very much the kind of setting where the Gospel takes place. Not with resounding ovation, but in quiet, simple, even normal actions.

In the same way that many people didn’t notice the birth of Jesus, the vast majority of our prayers and actions made in the advancement of God’s Kingdom will go unnoticed. Few will see the compassion we show to a hurting friend, or the silent prayers offered for a distressed stranger, or the encouragement given on behalf of another. God could have heralded the entrance of his Son into this world with a cadenza of horns and angelic figures. Instead, only a few shepherds were given audience to the angel’s invitation. The simplicity and humility of Christ’s birth is in and of itself an example of how God often works in our world. And yet, what makes those things extraordinary is the presence of God with us. Emmanuel, God with us, makes everything infinitely important and divinely blessed.

Bethlehem was and is just a small town — a small town steeped in ancient history. In the first century, we recall Bethlehem as the birthplace of the mighty giant killer, King David. David essentially put that town on the map 1,000 years earlier, and now, on a very special day that little village on top of a quiet hill was to pull off an amazing feat. Dusty scrolls left by ancient prophets told of such a thing (Micah 5:2).

“But you, O Bethlehem, who are too little to be among the clans of ^rJudah from you shall come forth one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose coming forth is from of old, from ancient days.”

But that night in Bethlehem, as the song implies, there is only silence. All is now hushed and quiet, and the hope of a king only a prophetic memory muffled by the priorities of life: raising wheat, raising sheep, raising children, and paying taxes. This night the town finally sleeps, though crowded. The hustle and bustle of census travelers, who returned home to be counted, have now ceased their travels.

“O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie.”

So quiet and still and peaceful is the town.  But let’s imagine for a moment a slower pace and a quieter place, no cell phones, no loud radios, no horns, and no surround sound. No jets, no traffic, no trains, and no ambulances racing down streets. In perfect stillness, we witness a silent invasion, like a storm of feathered snowflakes silently falling to the ground, carpeting the dirty world in radiant holiness.

And so, we slow our pace to His pace, and we read the holy story once again, a little more slowly now. We don’t skim. We watch the baby King of Bethlehem enter into a barn-like stable to gently rest in a worn-out feeding trough. In the quietness of night, the new King enters into the hay and manure of a broken world in desperate need of fixing. This is the Christ child, who will one day die in daylight that becomes darkness. But right now, he rests in mother Mary’s arms on a dark night that becomes starlit, as stars and angels pierce the silence. 

This same Christ enters lives like he entered this stable. He enters the mess of sin, and it catches us off guard. You’re surprised? Unaware? You’re not ready for Him? It all seems so sudden. We must be ready— not taken unaware, like the little town of Bethlehem.

When Christ arrives, we may be tempted to first warm up the stable with space heaters. But don’t! We may want to sweep out the soiled hay and mouse droppings. Don’t!  Don’t roll out a comfort mattress or fluff a pair of feather pillows. Don’t disinfect the walls and floor with an aerosol fog of Lysol. Don’t set out a crib with stuffed animals, cotton onesies and baby powder. Don’t fill the bathtub with warm water and soft suds. When the Savior comes, there’s no time to clean up the mess of sin. He comes, not to place fancy wrapped boxes around a decorated Christmas tree. No. The Holy One arrives unexpectedly in the middle of our busy and imperfect lives.

It is with this thought that we are prepared to sing the final verse (the fifth stanza) of the famous hymn, Emmanuel. 

O holy Child of Bethlehem,

Descend to us, we pray;

Cast out our sin, and enter in,

Be born in us today.

We hear the Christmas angels, 

The glad tidings tell;

O come to us, abide with us, Our Lord Emmanuel.

This is the message of Christmas. Here, this Christmas Day, we praise Jesus who broke into the stillness of a little town to descend to sinful humanity. And we implore Him,  “Lord Jesus, break into our lives and cast out the sin that we are powerless to wash away. Silence our thoughts and still our lips that we may hear you. Soften our hearts and humble us to seek your face in all that we do. Guide us by your light and strengthen us to obey you…

”O holy Child of Bethlehem, Descend to us, we pray.”

Please join me in prayer for our children and grandchildren:

“This is eternal life, that our children and grandchildren may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent”. John 17:3

“More than that, may our children count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom they have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that they may gain Christ,” Philippians 3:8

“And we know that the Son of God has come, and has given our children understanding so that they may know Him who is true; and they are in Him who is true, in His Son Jesus Christ. This is the true God and eternal life.” 1 John 5:20

“but may our children grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To Him be the glory, both now and to the day of eternity. Amen.” 2 Peter 3:18