Shepherds Voices of Declaration

The song of the angels was not heard by priests, Pharisees or rulers, but by lonely, lowly shepherds out in the fields at night. Despised and rejected, they were the first to hear that the Messiah had come. They were the first to see Him, other than Joseph and Mary. And they were the first to declare His coming to other people. Luke 2:8-17

We were usually the last to hear any news, especially good news. We lived isolated lives out in the fields, taking care of our flocks. We minded our own business, and people were happy to leave us alone.
There was a reason for that. We lived outdoors and slept under the stars. We could not possibly keep all the laws, especially the ones the super-spiritual Pharisees had dreamed up. How could we go through all the meticulous hand-washings and other rules and regulations? We were excluded from their religious festivities and considered no better than thieves. We were the most despised class of people in Israel.
It did not matter to them what we felt in our hearts. We prayed during our lonely watches and often talked about God. We longed to see the Messiah, and we longed for His coming.
In these pastures, their ancestor David had fought the lion and bear to protect his sheep. We were protecting the lambs that would be offered as sacrifices for their sin in the temple. But that meant nothing to them.
A shepherd doesn’t have much excitement in his life. It’s lonely and sometimes dull. Our days were spent hunting for what little grass we could find and caring for the animals. In the evening we generally bedded down with the sheep under a tree or led them to some crude shelter – a pen or a sheepfold. We took turns at night watching them to make sure they were not devoured by wild animals.
But one starlit night, while we were resting in the cool of the evening, a figure appeared out of nowhere. We didn’t know who he was or where he came from. Suddenly, it became piercingly bright all around us. We fell to the ground in fear.
We’d heard about the Shekinah glory. We knew the stories of Moses at the burning bush and the pillar of fire in the desert. This had to be the glory of the Lord! This figure before us was not another shepherd; it was an angel sent from God.
We were frightened out of our minds. I remember covering my head and my eyes. I thought I might die. Then I heard the angel speak. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. I felt a calmness, and a quiet awe came over me. He was not going to bring any judgment on us. He was going to give us some kind of news – good news.
“There is born to you this day in Bethlehem a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” I felt a joy I had never experienced before. The Messiah had been born – the one whom our people had waited so long! This was the fulfillment of centuries of hope and prayer.
Suddenly, the angel was joined by an army of angels. They were coming from everywhere, and the sky was filled with them. They began to praise God, saying “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!” I’d never heard rolling thunder louder than their booming voices. We were astonished!
When their hymn ended, we saw them ascending to heaven. The light faded out of the sky, and we were left alone. But their message remained with us.
When we found our voices, we could speak of only one thing. We must to go Bethlehem to see the baby. The angel had taken it for granted that we would go. He had even told us how to identify Him. He would be in a manger, wrapped in swaddling cloth. We did not question. We did not hesitate. We went.
As we traveled, I kept thinking to myself, That’s not where the Messiah should be, in a manger wrapped in strips of cloth. He should be in the kind’s palace or maybe at the temple itself, wrapped in purple.
At last we found the place where Mary , the mother of the baby, and her husband Joseph, were. We found them in the poorest and most humble of circumstances. What a contrast with the splendor of the announcement of His birth! But we were not put off, for we knew who this baby was.
I can still remember the look on Joseph’s face when we approached. Why were we there? Why were we intruding when he and his wife wanted some privacy? Looking beyond him, we saw Mary, gazing with wonder at the baby in the manger; and we fell on our knees and worshiped Him.
Finally, I told Joseph the whole story about the angels and their message. “We had to come and see for ourselves,” I told him. “We wanted to praise Him too.”
As I was standing there, amazed and filled with awe, a story came to my mind. I thought of what had happened to the four lepers of Samaria years ago.
The Syrians had been menacing our people, and there was a great famine. Four lepers decided to give themselves up to the Syrians to get some food. When they arrived at the enemy camp, they found it empty. All the Syrians were gone. They went from tent to tent and found food, water, clothes – everything they could want.
That discovery saved their lives. One of them said, “This is a day of good news, and we cannot remain silent.” So they determined to tell the people in the besieged city.
That’s exactly how my friends and I felt. After we had worshipped the Christ child, we left the cattle stall. “This is good news,” we told each other. “People need to hear that the Savior has been born.” So that night we joined the twelve voices of Christmas as the voices of declaration. We told everyone we met about the birth of the Christ-child.
After that night I often thought about what the angel said, “There is born to you this day a Savior.” Born to us? To shepherds? Why had God honored us and not the priests, the scribes and royalty?
To me it was ironic that those uppity Pharisees in Jerusalem, who had studied the Law and kept all the commandments, were not the first ones to hear the news they had waited so long to hear. Neither were they the first ones to see the newborn Messiah. We were the first to see Him – lonely, lowly shepherds. I guess when God has a task as important as telling the world about the Savior, He doesn’t entrust it to those who worship Him out of habit but to those who worship Him out of love.

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Angels Voices of Praise

The heavens echoed with the melody of angels. The glory of the Lord was brilliant and blinding. The audience, a few shepherds, groveled in fear. But they would never forget the message, nor would coming generations forget those words: “There is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” Luke 2:8-14.

We remember that first Christmas night with crystal clarity. In Bethlehem the inns were full of people, who had come for the census. The streets were willed with Roman soldiers, many of whom were drunk. Villagers were carrying on their normal activities. And all were unaware that something spectacular had happened. Jesus, the Savior of the world, had been born.
In the fields outside Bethlehem, some lonely shepherds were watching their flock. Everything was quiet and peaceful.
Then we made our appearance. I appeared first. The glory of the Lord – that heavenly brightness that manifests God’s presence and power – lit up the sky like the sun. The shepherds struggled to get to their feet, but they couldn’t. So bright was His glory that it pushed them back to their knees. I could see them shaking with fear.
“Don’t be afraid,” I said. “I bring you good tidings of great joy. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”
I told those shepherds that they would find the Savior wrapped in pieces of swaddling cloth and lying in a manger.
Suddenly, I was joined by thousands of my colleagues, angels descending from heaven. Together we said, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”
The greetings we bore from heaven that night were destined to produce the greatest joy of all time. What greater joy could there be than to know that God had provided a Savior, that he had given a solution to life’s greatest problem – the guilt and consequences of sin.
It was a night to praise Jehovah. It was a night to thank the Savior for leaving the glory of heaven to come to earth and assume human flesh. It was a night to thank God for keeping His promise made so long ago in the Garden of Eden.
If we, as angels, had reason to praise God, how much more reason do the people of earth have to praise him? For they are the ones who need salvation. They are the ones who can rejoice that the Savior has come.

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Gabriel Voice of Disclosure

Gabriel’s quiet voice disclosed a spectacular message for three central characters in the story of the birth of Jesus. To Zacharias: Your son will prepare the way for the Messiah. To Mary: Your virgin-born Son will be the Messiah, the Son of God. To Joseph: Don’t be afraid to wed Mary. She will give birth to the Messiah. These three messages form the heart and the hope of the Christmas story. Luke 1:11-22, Matthew 1:20-25

am one of Jehovah’s most trusted angels, and He has called on me to deliver many momentous messages. But none can compare with the three I delivered in connection with the birth of the Messiah in Bethlehem – all within months of each other.
The first was to Zacharias. It was a message of good news, but he did not receive it as such.
I remember him as a godly man, an aging priest who served my Master with distinction. His wife, Elizabeth, was also very godly. Both of them were getting up in years, and they had no children. But that was about to change.
Jehovah sent me to tell Zacharias that he and Elizabeth would soon have a son, one who would be filled with the Holy Spirit from Elizabeth’s womb. He would be the promised forerunner of the Messiah, in the spirit and power of Elijah.
When the day came, I left the presence of God and flew directly to Jerusalem. It was there, in the temple, that I appeared to Zacharias. He was all alone in the Holy Place, burning incense. In the quiet of that solemn place, I disclosed my message.
“Don’t be afraid, Zacharias. Jehovah has heard your prayers, and He is pleased to answer them. You will become a father. Your wife, Elizabeth, will bear a son, and you will name him John.”
That should have been cause for celebration. His child was destined to be great in Jehovah’s sight. He would turn many people to the Lord. His birth would bring unbounded joy to many people.
But the old priest didn’t believe me! He told me that they were too old to have children. I was shocked! I never expected that kind of response.
“I’m Gabriel,” I said sternly. “I stand in the presence of God, and I’ve been sent to you with this news.” Surely he would understand that I had direct access to Jehovah and had just come from His throne room with this message.
But he did not believe, and nothing displeases God more than unbelief. “Since you do not believe,” I told him, “You will not be able to speak until the day your son is born.”
Immediately, I returned to the presence of God, leaving Zacharias to sort out all that had happened to him.
It was just six months later that Jehovah sent me on my second mission. Perhaps the reception of this message will be different, I thought.
This time my destination wasn’t the capital city or the gleaming temple, but the picturesque village of Nazareth on the southern edge of Galilee. This sleepy little village was a backwater town. People in Israel had little respect for it and would say in derision, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”
I was to appear to a young woman named Mary. What I had to tell her was so startling that I knew I must be quiet but strong, and my actions deliberate but gentle. I found her in a humble, little house.
I said, “Be happy, Mary. You are highly favored by God. You are one of the most blessed women on earth.”
I could see that my presence troubled her. But it appeared that she was more puzzled by my greeting than she was afraid.
“Don’t be afraid, Mary,” I continued. “You have found favor with God.” I hoped that would calm her. Then I told her she would conceive and bear a Son, and her Son was to be called Jesus.
I had so much more to tell her – that her baby would be great and would be called the Son of the Highest, that Jehovah would give her Son the throne of His father, David, and that there would be no end to His reign.
That’s when she interrupted me. She had a puzzled look on her face, and I knew what was bothering her. She wanted to know how she could become pregnant when she was a virgin. It was a fair question.
I’m not sure she fully understood my answer, but I explained that the Holy Spirit would come over her in such a way that she would become pregnant. That meant that the One born would be both God and man. That message contained the most important news, the greatest disclosure, in history.
Mary’s response relieved me. She believed! She knew nothing was impossible with God. She calmly and graciously accepted His will for her. How different was her reaction from that of Zacharias.
There was one more message to be delivered, this time to Joseph. Mary was engaged to hi. But now she was pregnant, and he deserved to know how it happened. He had to understand that it was both legitimate and acceptable for him to proceed with his marriage plans.
I decided to deliver my message in a dream. I appear to him suddenly and said, “Joseph, son of David, don’t be afraid. Your beloved Mary is pregnant, but she has not been unfaithful to you. What has been conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit of God. She will carry a Son to full term. When He is born, you will take Him as your own Son and name Him Jesus, because He will save His people from their sins.”

In the dream I reminded Joseph of what the great prophet said, “Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they shall call his name Immanuel.” I wanted him to understand that there was no reason for him to file divorce papers on Mary. She had done nothing wrong. While he slept, I quietly slipped away, happy to have been used of God as one of the twelve voices of Christmas.
I told each of these three – Zacharias, Mary and Joseph – “Do not be afraid.” These words of comfort were later echoed by the other angels when they appeared to the shepherds. Throughout the ages, men and women who have heard the Christmas story have found that they no longer need to be afraid, for they have come to know the Savior of the world.

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Joseph Voice of Reason

There was no music in Joseph’s soul. Mary, his fiancée, was pregnant, and the child was not his. Being a man of reason, He considered his alternatives carefully and made his decision. But reason did not reign that day – God did. And the angel’s message to him made his heart sing. Matthew 1:16-25.

As a child, I watched my father’s strong and skillful hands turn pieces of wood into beautiful furniture. How I wanted to be a good carpenter like him.
I watched him carefully and listened to what he said, as every child watched and listen – and judges – a parent. I saw that he was generous, kind, loving, honest and wise. But above all, I noticed his deep love for God. He was everything I wanted to be.
As a young man, I began to think of having a family of my own, one in which I could be the kind of leader that my father was. It was Jewish custom for families to arrange marriages. The first on of Jacob – me – would marry the first daughter of Eli. Her name was Mary. She was much too young to be married, but I watched her from a distance, and I loved her.
While I watched her mature, I honed my skills as a craftsman, for I wanted to be ready to support a wife and any children God might send us. And I studied the Law of God and prayed, for I wanted to be a godly husband and father.
Mary finally reached the age when plans for marriage were appropriate, and I spoke to her father. We went through all the customary steps that led to the engagement. The dowry was small, and the betrothal ceremony was simple, but we said our vows with joy. And after the benediction, we drank from the customary cup of wine and received the congratulations of relatives and friends.
Mary and I were bound to each other for life. From that time on I would call her my wife, and she would call me her husband, even though months would pass before we celebrated the wedding feast and began to live together.
During this time, Mary went to visit Elizabeth, her older cousin. I missed her during the three months she was gone. But I knew that she would be comfort to Elizabeth, who, unbelievably, was pregnant!
After she returned, Mary sent word that she wanted to talk. I greeted her warmly. But I noticed immediately that somehow she was different. There was an aura of dignity and confidence about her. She spoke quietly, and I listened carefully, for I had longed to hear her voice again. But her words just didn’t make sense to me. “I’m pregnant,” she told me.
I was stunned and heartbroken. I was not the baby’s father.
“Mary, how did this happen?” I asked in anguish. Then she told me about the visit from the angel and what he had told her. She said she was carrying a child conceived of the Holy Spirit.
I couldn’t believe it. How could she have been unfaithful to me? Surely she could not be pregnant and still be a virgin! My mind reeled, and I stumbled away, not knowing for caring where I went.
A war raged within me. My whole conscience had been molded by the Law of Moses, which required a woman who was unfaithful to her husband to be stoned to death. But I loved her! In my agony I cried out to God, “What should I do?”
Should I drag my dear Mary into the courtroom and publicly accuse her of adultery? She would not be stoned, for the old law was usually not followed. But she would be exposed to public disgrace and scorn. No, I told myself. I love her too much to let that happen.
Or should I divorce her privately and keep the reasons for the divorce to myself? I thought this alternative through carefully. I could just give her the bill of divorce privately. In the presence of two witnesses, and pay the fine. Then I would quietly say good-bye to her. I would love her always but never see her again.
I wanted to do what was right for Mary. But neither choice was what I really wanted. I sought a reasonable solution, but I was so confused. If only I could believe her story!
As I fell asleep that night, my mind was almost made up. I was inclined to divorce her privately. But then an angel appeared to me in a dream.
“Don’t be afraid,” the angel told me. “Go through with the marriage feast. Take Mary as your wife. The child she is carrying was conceived of the Holy Spirit.”
When I woke up, I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. Mary had told me the truth! So much for reason.
Immediately, I ran to tell her what had happened. I usually didn’t have much to say, but that morning my words just tumbled out. Her child would be a boy, the angel had said, and we were to name him Jesus. She cried. So did I, and I asked her to forgive me for not believing her.
Mary and I were married soon. Because of the circumstances, we had a small wedding – just the priest and our families. But that ceremony made Mary’s child mine legally. Jesus would be my Son.
During the years that followed, I had time to think about the rest of what the angel said to me. And Mary and I discussed his words many times.
Why had he addressed me as the son of David? Granted, I was an heir to David’s throne, but I would never sit on that throne. Could it be that the angel spoke these words to assure me that one day one of my legal heirs would?
Why did the angel quote from the prophet Isaiah about a virgin conceiving a child, who was “God with us?” Why did the angel reveal to me that Jesus would save His people from their sins? What did these things mean?
Mary and I were never able to understand all of this completely, but this much we knew: Jesus was God in our midst. He was the Savior of the world, and He would reign on the throne of David forever.
I, too, was one of the twelve voices of Christmas. I will never forget the angel’s voice – nor the peace and assurance of his words. His message changed not only the course of my life but the destiny of the world.

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Elizabeth Voice of Blessing

Elizabeth had experienced God’s blessing. He had taken away the reproach of her childlessness. He had signaled the presence of her Messiah through the joyful leap of the baby in her womb. In response, she pronounced a blessing that would extend beyond Mary, who stood before her. It would encompass the nation of Israel and eventually the whole world. Luke 1:5-25, 57-80

My husband, Zacharias, and I met one day when we were young, and we fell in love. I was the daughter of a priest, and he was a priest also, so our families and friends considered ours to be an excellent match. Bur more important than that, we knew in our hearts that we were right for each other. We said our vows and embarked on life together. We said our vows and embarked on life together.
We built our marriage on one thing – loving God, serving Him and doing whatever He commanded. We stood almost alone in our way of life in our village and the surrounding area. Few others were interested in devoting themselves to God. They thought it was too burdensome to try to keep the laws handed down from Moses. But we found joy in obeying God.
There was only one thing marring our happiness: We wanted a child, but I was barren.
Every Jewish family wanted a baby to hold and care for, a toddler to train, a growing child to guide toward maturity. Every Jewish family wanted a child who would blossom into full maturity and independence, becoming a stabilizing force in the family and a hope for the future. And beyond all this there was the underlying hope that maybe, just maybe, the promised Messiah would be born to that family.
My youth passed quickly, with no baby. What had been a cloud over my life became a heavy sorrow. I never spoke about it to my friends, and they said nothing either; but I know they pitied me.
I would often lie awake at night thinking of Rachel, imagining her saying to Jacob, “Give me children, or else I die.” I cried for her. I often thought of Hannah, grieving because she had no children. In my imagination I saw her stricken face as Peninnah, her husband’s other wife, ridiculed her.
God heard Hannah’s prayer and gave her a son. Why hadn’t He heard mine? I prayed so fervently, so intensely, for so many years.
Again and again I asked Him why. I tried to do all He asked of me. Hadn’t it been said that if we obeyed Him, He would give us children? Hadn’t God promised our people what we would be blessed above all peoples, that there would not be a male or female barren among us? Didn’t He care? Or was there something wrong with me?
As the years went by, hope faded and was finally gone. We no longer spoke of the baby we had wanted so much. But I continued to express our pain in my prayers. I determined that I would not become bitter but would continue to serve God faithfully.
One day, while Zacharias was offering the incense to the Lord in the Holy Place, he was startled by the appearance of the angel Gabriel. His news was even more astonishing. I would give birth to a child, a son, whom we were to name John.
He would be great in the sight of the Lord and many would rejoice at his birth. He would prepare the way for the Messiah, and he would turn many of our people back to God.
I can only imagine the excitement and awe Zacharias must have felt when Gabriel broke the news to him. Yet when he came home, he couldn’t tell me about it – he was literally speechless. He wrote down what had happened. “I didn’t believe what the angel told me,” he wrote. “And this is my punishment.”
Zacharias was so ashamed. But I loved him nonetheless, and he loved me. As a result of that love, I conceived.
I had no one else to talk to who would have believed me if I had told them what an angel had told Zacharias – that I would bear a special son? Who would have believed that at my advanced age I was pregnant? No one. My neighbors knew I was barren. I couldn’t face them for perhaps five months – not until my pregnancy was obvious, not until I could show them that my reproach was gone.
Like Zacharias, I would be silent and alone. How wonderful it would be to meditate on the words the angel had spoken to Zacharias to think about the son we would have, to glorify God for the miracle of his promised birth. And I would still have time to think about the Messiah, my Lord, who evidently would appear soon – if my son were to prepare the way for Him.
In my sixth month of pregnancy, Mary arrived from Nazareth. I hadn’t expected her visit, but I was very pleased to see her.
When I heard her voice, something strange happened. I felt my baby leap within me. I had felt the baby moving for some time, but never anything like this.
Immediately, I knew that Mary was the chosen mother of the Messiah and that even now she was pregnant with Him. Only the Spirit of God could have revealed that to me.
And He gave me words of blessing to speak that I had never planned to say: “O, Mary, you are so blessed among women, and so is the fruit of your womb. How is it that the other of my Lord should come to me?”
I felt inspired, transformed. Even as I was blessing Mary for her willingness to believe what the angel had told her, somehow my unborn son was offering homage to his Lord. Yet all the time, in the back of my mind I felt compassion for Zacharias, who had not believed.
After my blessing, Mary responded with a song of praise to God, for His blessing on her, on Israel and on the world through His son.
That day we laughed and cried together. She told me what Gabriel had told her, and I repeated to her what he had told Zacharias. Each message confirmed the truth of the other. We talked and talked.
For three months we shared our feelings, our joys, our hopes, our concerns and anticipation. Our futures held many questions, but our joy was infectious. Then Mary returned home to face Joseph with the news of her pregnancy. And I faced childbirth.
I remember how I felt as she left. I was so happy. I loved my husband. I loved my baby, and I loved Mary. Both she and I were greatly blessed to be voices of the Christmas story. She was carrying the Messiah, the Savior of the world. And I was carrying His forerunner, the one who would prepare the way for Him.

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