Nick Fawcett (devotional and reflective writer)

There are so many wonderful images associated with the story of that first Christmas, centuries ago. One of the most enduring is that of Mary and Joseph arriving at the inn in Bethlehem, only to find that there was no room for there to put their heads down for the night. The following meditation, taken from my book No Ordinary Man, explores how they must have felt, and challenges us concerning making room in our hearts today.

Reading
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for him in the inn. Luke 2:1-7

The meditation of the innkeeper
I felt sorry for that couple, I really did.
They were at their wits’ end, the pair of them,
just about all in.
But it was the lady who concerned me most;
fit to drop she was,
and hardly a surprise given her condition –
not that I’m an expert in these matters
but I felt sure her pains had already started;
and so it was to prove, poor lass.
As for him, he was beside himself,
frantic with worry,
almost abusive in his frustration;
and I can’t say I blamed him –
I’d have been the same in the circumstances.
Yet what could I do?
There wasn’t a room to spare, that was the fact of the matter.
We were packed already,
bulging at the seams,
and I could hardly turf someone else out
just to fit them in,
could I?
I mean – be reasonable –
that would have caused a right-old to-do,
no use to anybody.
So I offered them the stable, if they could make use of it.
Not much of a prospect I agree,
especially on such a night as that turned out,
but it was a roof over their heads,
a shelter from the worst of the wind if nothing else.
All right, so I still feel bad about it,
wish now I’d taken the wife’s advice
and given up our room for them.
But to be honest we were both whacked,
what with all the extra custom to see to.
We had an inn to run, remember,
and we were rushed off our feet,
longing only for a good night’s sleep ourselves.
So we gave them the stable and that’s the end of it –
no point brooding over what might have been.
And to be fair, they were grateful,
glad of anywhere to put their heads down.
But when I heard the baby crying,
that’s when it got to me –
out there in those conditions!
I felt ashamed,
disgusted with myself.
So we hurried out, the wife and I,
anxious to help,
not sure what we might find
though fearing the worst.
But what a surprise!
There was no panic,
no sign of confusion.
Quite the contrary –
they seemed so peaceful,
so full of joy,
utterly content.
And the way they looked at that child –
I mean, I’ve heard of worshipping your kids
but this was something else –
they were over the moon,
absolutely ecstatic!
And that wasn’t the half of it,
for suddenly there in the shadows
I spotted a bunch of shepherds –
God knows where they came from.
Thought for a moment they were up to no good,
but they weren’t.
They just stood there gawping into the manger,
wide-eyed with wonder,
almost as though they’d never seen a baby before!
And then they walked away,
joy in their faces,
delight in their steps.
It’s all quiet now, the inn and the stable,
as if that night had never happened.
And so far as I know both mother and child are well.
You could say that’s down to me in part,
for at least I did something to help if no one else did.
Yet I can’t help feeling I should have done more,
that I let everyone down somehow –
that it wasn’t finally them I left out in the cold –
it was me.

Prayer
Lord Jesus Christ,
you came to our world,
to your people,
yet among so many you found no welcome.
From the very beginning the majority shut you out,
and of those who did accept you
many did so only half-heartedly.
Forgive us that sometimes we do the same.
Help us to make room for you,
and to give you not just a token place,
but to put you at the very centre of our lives.
Amen.