Serving God in Survival Mode

For many believers right now, it feels like we are just trying to survive. In the face of multiple crises—health, economic, social, and spiritual, just living day to day seems to be a challenge. How is it that we can make a difference for the Kingdom when it takes all our energy just to put out fires and avoid pitfalls?

Joseph and Mary must have felt the same way as Jesus’ birth approached. The thrill that they would care for the Christ-child faded into the hardship of daily reality.

The trip that Joseph and Mary had to take was not a happy one.

Caesar had just imposed a huge tax on the entire Roman Empire, with no stimulus money coming back to ease the pain. Not only was this young couple being taxed at a time in life when they could least afford it, but they were also required to travel to their ancestral home to pay it—and Mary was very close to delivering her first baby. If there was an opportunity for a religious or medical exemption, they would have taken it, but the Romans were not known for allowing even reasonable exemptions to their one-size-fits-all self-serving big government revenue plans.

Travel was difficult. All the Christmas story graphics show Mary riding on a donkey. That is highly unlikely. Mary almost certainly walked. She walked! Nine months pregnant as she trudged through the rocky Judean desert making her way toward Bethlehem. The social customs of the day required her to mask up along the way. I am sure that when they were alone along the road she would push the veil aside to allow her lungs to fill with fresh air. Her feet were swelling and hurt.

All of this was extremely stressful to Joseph. Like any good husband and father, he felt the weight of providing for and protecting his family. He scrambled to find a place to sleep. He had seen Mary wince a few times as they were trudging the last few miles into Bethlehem. Maybe a pebble had worked its way between sandal and foot.

No.

He noticed that the grimaces seemed to come at somewhat regular intervals. He counted the steps between her suppressed painful moans—216. He didn’t think that was a good sign, but he was afraid to ask. He did not want to frighten Mary. Too late–she was already frightened but did not want to alarm him. So, they walked silently together. The quiet only broken by the sound of footsteps, labored breathing, and the intermittent painful start—quickly suppressed.

Rising panic forced Joseph to quicken his pace, but Mary could not keep up. So, he slowed down. She leaned on him as she held his arm. He was glad she was depending on him but the added weight (mom and baby after all) made walking hard for him too.

A sense of bitterness filled his fearful heart—against the Romans for their abuse and unbending laws that seemed to have no room for compassion regarding physical condition. But the most troubling thoughts were the ones that believers in Jehovah rarely express to others. How—no, why is God allowing this to happen to us, to this promised Child?

Finally, Bethlehem.

Once they arrived in Bethlehem things worsened. Their family members had moved away from this small Judean village long ago or were so extended they did not know them well. There is no other way to explain looking for lodging in an inn instead of finding family. Joseph could not hide the panic in his voice as he begged for a place to stay, but that made people suspicious.

Overbooked already—no vacancy.

They were both so extremely tired. They had to find a place to rest.

Joseph made Mary wait nearby as he pled for a place to stay. “My wife is about to deliver a child!” The city was full of beggars with some of the most elaborately fabricated stories. Finally, Joseph produced Mary as proof. Even the flowing 1^st Century robes could not hide her condition.

“Well. Uh. You can use the sheepfold.”

“Thank you!” said Joseph with a huge sense of relief. Finally, a little light.

“Praise God!” Mary wearily mumbled.

The thought of straw on which to rest sounded wonderful.

The company of animals did not bother these two. They grew up close to animals and had slept with the livestock before—Joseph while caring for the sheep as a boy, and Mary when she waited for that pet ewe to lamb when she was a young girl.

The birth pains increased as Mary formed a bed from the straw and then collapsed into its embrace. They both knew what was happening. This was life in the ancient world. Joseph quieted Mary and then hurried to seek out a midwife anywhere in the village. As far as we know, none ever arrived.

Joseph readied himself for the role of the midwife. This was new. Usually, the women tended these duties. He needed fuel for a fire. Brush, twigs, even dried dung would do. Joseph tore off a swath of his tunic, soaked it in water, and hung it over the fire to warm.

The birthing process was always very dangerous—for mothers and children. God had given promises regarding the destiny of the baby—but not for Mary. Joseph fearfully wondered whether God would require that sacrifice of her.

Things then really got hectic. Pain mixed with uncertainty as the cries of travail pierced the night air.

Mary was now focused on only one thing—delivering this child. All the world faded away as she began to push and think “just live—both of us—just live!”

There was no need to pinch the child to get him to take his first breath. The chill of the Judean night air on that wet naked little body was shock enough. The song says, “no crying he makes” but it is not true. The baby Jesus cried. Crying helped those little lungs develop—even from the beginning. It is the way a baby communicates. Some crying is a good thing for a baby

Relief.

It is a boy! Of course, as expected.

He cleaned the child with the smoky warm rag that had been hanging over the fire.

“In my basket,” Mary whispered. With the child tucked against his chest Joseph peered into the basket Mary had dutifully carried for so many miles. Swaddling clothes! Mary anticipated and had prepared for this moment.

He placed the baby on Mary’s breast. She snuggled him beneath her garments to warm him and let him nurse. Joseph’s first baby wrap was poorly done, she would do it right later. Joseph checked for bleeding as he tended to the afterbirth. Mary was healthy. Everything now seemed oddly normal.

They had survived the moment of greatest danger. They did not know that greater danger lurked. For this moment–just now–a calm settled.

The exhausted parents huddled together with the child between them and drifted off to sleep.

Their task—at least so far—in God’s great plan, was accomplished. Mother and Child–but especially the Child–lived.

Sometimes all we can do to in our quest to be used of God is survive. He is God. He can work with that.