The Journey

“Dear friends, don’t be surprised at the fiery trials you are going through, as if something strange were happening to you.  Instead be very glad for these trials make you partners with Christ in His suffering, so that you will have the wonderful joy of seeing His glory when it is revealed to all the world.”  1 Peter 4:12-13 NLT

Mary: 

            I draw in a deep breath of the fresh morning air as I walk beside the donkey Joseph is leading.  It is a fine day.  The sun, not far on its journey, shines brilliant in a bright blue sky.  The friends and family we travel with, sing a merry song as we march, only a few hours into the journey to Bethlehem to register for the census. 

            The robe I had worn at the start of our journey in the chilly predawn hours is now tied to the pack on Josephine, my father’s borrowed donkey. 

            I chuckle remembering the teasing I mercilessly gave Joseph as he was tying our belongings to the pack.   “Well, guess we have two Joes now,” I said with a smirk referring to my pet name for Joseph, who only grunted and hid a smile.  “Well guess I could call you Joey instead, but that’s what I usually call Josephine.”  I chuckled at his disgusted look.  “Not a good idea, huh?”  Laughing out loud, I made my waddling way back to the house for another load of meager belongings.

            Joseph had said I could ride Josephine, and he would carry the pack.  He was perfectly capable of doing that, he said.  I assured him that I was perfectly capable of walking and should be able to make the three day journey on foot, if we didn’t go too fast. 

            Now, even though I am extremely heavy with child, there is a spring in my step and I feel vigorous and strong.  My eyes scan the surrounding open countryside with scattered scrub brush which is mostly in the bottoms of the arroyos the trail occasionally dips into.  Leaves are changing on the few trees that grow along the Jordan river, we follow most of the way, causing a splash of orange or yellow in the brown landscape.

            When Joseph first told me we must make this journey, I was afraid and positive that at nine months pregnant I would not be able to make it.  However, he did not want to leave me behind since he knew the child would come while he was gone.  Not only that, if I was away from the village at the time of the birth the discrepancy in the time of pregnancy would not be so obvious to anyone keeping track.  And I am quite sure there were those who were counting months since Joseph and I were married.  Was this order from Augustus, the Roman Emperor, to register for this census in our ancestral towns, actually God’s hand at work?

            As the time drew near and I packed things needed for the baby, I was filled with fear.  What if I gave birth on the trail?  What about the dirt and what if there was no water to wash or fire to heat the water or shelter if it should rain?  My hands shook as I folded the swaddling clothes and tears threatened. 

            Arms came around me as Joseph covered my abundant belly with his strong capable hands.  “Don’t worry Little One,” he whispered in my ear always sensitive to my moods.  “God will be with us. He will take care of us all, even this child. “

            Of course, I knew this, but still the fear threatened to overcome my good senses.  Then the night before we left, as I lay awake next to my snoring husband I prayed to God to take away the fear and give me strength for the journey. 

            Suddenly my heart was filled with warmth and quiet stillness.

             All will be well, My child.  Have no fear.

             Amazingly the anxiety fled and in its place was–how do I explain it?  Peace, assurance and an enveloping love that seemed to fill every crack of my heart.  I am sure that the strength I feel now even after hours of walking is only from my Father God.

            Once the sun goes down, we make camp beside the river.  There are several families, some with young children traveling together, since it is not safe to travel alone.  Joseph sees to Josephine, leaving her in the care of some young boys who watch the animals while they graze before night, and then he starts a fire.  I bustle around pulling out food that was prepared ahead that can be warmed by the fire.  I make tea to warm us as the night grows chilly.

            I am tired but not exhausted, my feet do hurt a bit and my lower back aches.  Pretty normal for a women in her ninth month of pregnancy who has walked all day, Joseph assures me, as he rubs my back under the cover of our robes before we fall asleep.  I fall into a deep dreamless sleep instantly and hardly move until Joseph is holding me and whispering in my ear that it is time to wake up.

            A hasty cold breakfast is eaten, gear packed and loaded on Josephine and we are on our way before the sun shows its face.  Streaks of pink and gold stripe the eastern horizon and the sky is turning to a light gray as I once again trudge beside Joseph.  I am a bit stiff this morning, not feeling quite as vigorous as yesterday.  But as the sun peeks out and the birds sing from the trees, I feel my muscles loosen and my spirits lift. 

            It was a tough day.  The country grew more rugged and there were many coulees, which meant going down steep hills and climbing back up on often loose gravel and rocks.  One time going up a hill my feet slipped out from under me and I landed on my hands and knees.  Joseph was immediately beside me, helping me to my feet. 

            “You can ride the donkey,” he quickly said.

            But I was stubborn and after catching my breath and rubbing my knees, I insisted I was fine and could walk.  And walk I did but every step was an effort for my screaming muscles, and my dragging steps slowed us down, so that Joseph and I came into camp at dusk.  Joseph’s brother and cousin stayed with us to make sure we got there safely.

            That night I had no energy to even get food out and I wasn’t sure how I would go on for one more whole day. Joseph, bless his heart, insisted I lay on the bedroll and rest while he did everything around camp.  I fell asleep soon after eating a little and drinking some tea and was barely aware of my husband wrapping robes around me.

            The next morning I was sore and stiff and the ache in my back was worse and very low.  I walked for awhile but soon started getting cramps in my midsection that radiated to my back.  Some of the older women in our group, my mother included, said it was the first stages of labor, but it would probably be many hours before I would deliver. 

            Joseph insisted I ride but after awhile the jarring and swaying of the donkey’s gait along with cramps tightening in a band across my stomach, became unbearable.  I would walk for awhile, often stopping and leaning on blessed Josephine’s side when a cramp would hit.  We made slow time and most of the party went on ahead at Joseph’s insistence.  Only my parents, his brother, Jesse, and cousin, Obed, stayed with us and as the sun set behind the distant hills, I knew Joseph was getting tense. 

            He thought we should stop and set up camp for the night, but I insisted we keep going.  I knew it was unsafe for such a small party to be out after dark and not only that, I did not want my child to be born out in the open countryside with no protection or shelter.  I wanted a bed to lie on and a warm fire to take away the chill, which I was sure would make a tiny newborn sick.

            I was near panic as the night came on and darkness fell around us, but I gritted my teeth and said not a word.  The cramps were getting so intense that I barely could hold back a groan and my mother walked beside me with her hand on my leg murmuring soft words of encouragement.  I could see Joseph’s mouth moving in silent prayer as he walked on the other side and his brother led Josephine in a fast walk. 

            I thought we would be stuck in this dark world of pain forever as Josephine’s short quick strides jerked on and on. 

“Hang on my sweet, we are almost there,” Joseph’s words penetrated the pain fog and when I looked up I could see lamps burning in nearby windows.

            “Oh thank the Blessed Father above,” I murmured, not even caring now if it was the ground I lay on as long as I could get off this blessed donkey.

            We made our way to Joseph’s distant relatives, people we didn’t even know, but who would surely give us shelter.  They only shook their heads saying there was no floor space left, even in the stable, which was, as is normal, below the living quarters of the house.  We trudged through the small village to a house of distant relatives of my father’s but they too said there was no room.  None at all.  There was no room for my baby to even lay his head. 

            “Why oh why, Father are You letting this happen?” I screamed silently, slumping over Josephine’s withers. “Why is there no place for your Son to be born!” 

            Another cramp hit me, harder this time then ever before and I swayed forward and moaned.  “I must get off,” I groaned.  My mother said that my time was coming near.

            Joseph reached up and lifted me gently off the donkey, but my legs would not hold me and I slumped against him.  Joseph picked me up in his strong arms and told Jesse to go to the nearby house and tell them we would take any space they had to spare.  I could feel Joseph’s fear in his tense muscles.

            “I can walk, Joseph,” I whispered, even though I barely had strength to lift my head,  “you can put me down.”  But he carried me towards the house.

             I saw a man open the door his brother knocked upon and peer out.  After listening to Jesse’s plea, my heart dropped when he shook his head.  Then, as Joseph approached the door, the man’s eyes met mine. 

            “She is about to give birth,” Joseph pleaded. 

            The man’s mouth fell open, “Oh Father God,” he said, then opened the door. 

            Joseph ducked into the lower level of the house where the animals, a couple of donkeys, a milk cow and some goats were bedded down in straw.  My father led Josephine in with my mom and Obed following and the small space was crowded indeed. 

            The man scurried around getting straw to make a soft bed in an open space near the wall where there was a manger full of hay.  Joseph let my feet sink to the ground but he kept a firm hold around my back.  Jesse and Obed murmured that they would find another place to stay and quickly went out. 

            When the bed of straw was ready, Joseph helped me to it and I sank down into its blessed softness.  Oh, the bliss of stretching out and letting my tense muscles relax.  Until the next contraction hit, that is.  Joseph asked for hot water and rags, my mother knelt beside me, Father brought in our pack and the animals shifted to make room.

            I was too tired to worry about the dirt or animal manure, only very thankful for the warmth from the robes tucked around me and the soft light from the lamp that the man brought, along with food for the others. Through the fog of pain, I was aware of a warm glow that seemed to fill the small stable. 

The animals stilled and it seemed the whole earth waited in the cold darkness.  The angels held their breath and the whole of creation seemed poised for the dawning of the new age.

            Sometimes our journey through life is a difficult march through a cold, barren desert.  Like Joseph and Mary our trip through the wilderness is no lark.  We have many steep hills to climb and sometimes we fall.  We get up and trudge on, one weary step after another.  The journey drags on and on in the dark and one thing after another goes wrong. 

            We wonder if this trip we’re on is really God’s will.  Surely if it was His will, all would go smoothly and be a walk in the park.  There would be flowers and birds and blessings along the way.  Wouldn’t there be?  You would think God would smooth the bumps out and make the road easy, if this was His path.  Wouldn’t He?

But wait!  How did He orchestrate the birth of His Son?  Who would have thought that God of the universe would allow the Emperor of Rome to make such a decree just before His Son was about to be born?   You would think that a God who controls everything in His creation would have caused an easier way for the parents of His Son.  You would think that the Most High would have gone on ahead and prepared a clean, comfortable birth place for His only begotten Son, the Son who stood by Him when they created the world.  Wouldn’t He? 

            Oh but He didn’t!  He allowed it to be tough and dangerous for the ones He used to fulfill His most important plan. He let Mary be in pain and discomfort.  He let everything that could go wrong, go wrong. 

            Yet not quite.  He was there.  He strengthened, He indeed prepared, He protected, and in the end He provided.

            Mary and Joseph grew strong in their faith, they learned to lean on Him, they depended on His guidance.  They learned to trust Him no matter how hard the journey.

            So friends, He works the same in our lives.  Does He not?

“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for GREAT joy!  For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.  So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.”  James 1:2-4

So Let it Grow!