By Bob Beanblossom
27 November 2017
It seems to me that we don’t give the shepherds who received the message of Jesus’ birth the attention that they deserve. Not because they were special. Far from it. Because they weren’t—they weren’t politicians, theologians, business executives, but just plain folks. In many ways they were like us, not very special in man’s sight, though we hate to admit it; not among the elite, though we sometimes attach ourselves vicariously to successful teams or brands; not among the who’s who directories in our fields, though we are hard working and provide as best as we can for our families; not even among the most faithful in our churches, as examples to our own families. Just average folk. For some reason, God chose these shepherds from all the people in the world to receive the announcement of the most important event of all time–the birth of the birth of God’s own Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ.
Without second-guessing God, and meaning no disrespect to the shepherds, here is a paraphrase that I hope will cause you to go beyond the language to the hearts of these men who lived to protect and raise their flocks that they might in time be sacrificed to the uses of man. I trust the dialect will set a scene, a mood, rather than detract from the message. If you find it offensive, then please go directly to Scripture and read it again there, because it is the story of God’s love for each of us.
There Were Shepherds in the Field
Luke 2:1-20
Out in the country, there were some shepherds watch’en their flocks all night, jus’ like every other night for the last thousand years and more. They gathered in the open hill country to protect their sheep from wolves and other varmints out looking for a square meal. The night was quiet and peaceful. The shepherds talked quietly as men talk around a campfire. All of a sudden, sumthin’ turned the night sky bright as day; it lit up the whole field and they were really skeered. It was a lone angel. Just one, but more than they had ever seen. What was strange was it didn’t bother the sheep at all. He told us to settle down, he didn’t mean us no harm. In fact, he had some really good news: over yonder in the city, a Baby was just borned; not just a baby, but The Baby, the One who would bring a heap of peace and joy to the whole world, even us. This here Baby is the one that God promised the old folks years ago: His name is Jesus Christ, the King of all kings, the Lord of all lords, greater than Caesar and David and even Solomon. Sounds sorta like something the priests talk about that our great prophet Isaiah said years ago.
That angel told us to go on up to the city and see for yerself. My friends and I will look after your sheep fer awhile. I know it’s crowded over thar with the festival going on and all, but it’ll be worth the walk. He won’t look like much. Just a new baby. He don’t have a great throne and bunches of servants and lots of fine stuff. He don’t even have His own room. There weren’t no rooms left for his folks—jus common workin’ folks–with the festival and all, so they are hanging out in a stable for now. Jus’ then, that angel brought on a whole army of his buddies. Couldn’t even count ’em thar was so many. They sang a song for us, went like, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” He told us to git on now—they’ed welcome us. That sounded good, but those city folk didn’t think much of us shepherds. We kinda smelled like our sheep and didn’t really dress up to snuff for them. Then the angel and his friends jus’ up and left. Did I tell ya that they just kind’a hung out up in the air—they didn’t walk up on us but jus’ floated around. Jus’ appeared and disappeared. And he told us not to be skeered. Yeah, right. A hungry bear skeers me—me and only my long stick and sling ta change his mind. That’s nothin’ like how that angel and his friends made me feel. Skeered—if you only knew!
Anyways, after they left and it was quiet and dark and all again, we kind’a wondered if we had had a weird dream or somethin.’ But we all saw and heered the same thing, so off we go to King David’s city. Warn’t far. We could see it on the hill with the walls and fine buildings and all. Didn’t see the angel around, but he said he’d watch our sheep. We believed him about the baby, so we believed him about the sheep. After all, angels are from God and He don’t lie.
So, we took off, up the road to town. The gate was open, people everywhere. No one seemed to know anything about this new baby, but we found one of the inns that had a young mother and her husband stuck in their stable, just in from Bethlehem, and just in time to have a brand new baby boy. There they was, sharin’ the stable with the animals. Mary—that was her name—told us that her baby was the Child of God Himself, not of Joseph, her husband. He didn’t seem concerned. He tended to Mary and the baby like all was normal. The baby didn’t look like a king, just a little baby. But there was somethin’ special about Him, just like there was somethin’ special about the whole night. We tole them thanks for lettin’ us see Him, and left out. We tole everyone who would listen about what had gone on that night—what we seen and heard. Some believed us, some thought we wus just drunk shepherds come inta’ town for some action when we shoulda’ been out in the fields with our sheep. But we knew better. We got back down to our flocks and all was well. The angel had looked after them just like he said he would. We wus still kinda’ excited: the angel and his buddies; the trek into the city when we should’a been with our flocks; seeing the Baby and talking with His mother; telling folks all about what had happened. We kinda’ carried on a bit.
Gave us lots to think about. Like whar the priests and those other important folks were? Didn’t see no Roman soldiers. Figured they might be upset when they heered about a Jewish king. Why us—a bunch of shepherds that city folks try to avoid? But it was true. We wus thar. We know. We seen the face of God and He looked us right in the eye. Glory to God in the highest. We ain’t never gonna be the same.