I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.
I've always loved this Emily Dickinson poem. Maybe that wouldn't be the case if I was a Somebody. However, as I was reviewing the Christmas story, I realized who God called to the major roles in this story: Women in a time and place when women were nobodies (and even today, a teenage girl and old woman do not hold the highest status) and shepherds (do you know any shepherds making front page news?).
Granted, Joseph and Zacharias (Elisabeth's husband) are definitely a part of the story, but really most of the speaking parts (pardon my pun) go to Mary and Elisabeth. And, let's talk about Mary and Joseph's relationship with his family. They travel approximately 85 miles to be taxed in his own city because Joseph was "of the house and lineage of David" and the "city of David is called Bethlehem." Now, all of his family could have moved away, but then that means they would all need to return to Bethlehem also to be taxed, wouldn't it? Were all of his family members dead? Why am I asking this? Because Mary winds up giving birth in a stable! If you have family members who would put you up in the equivalent of a stable when you come to town for Christmas Day, then just consider yourself in good company.
Next point: A heavenly host of angels (this means an army of angels) come to announce the birth of our Saviour, Christ the Lord, first to…shepherds. Think about it. This year we have seen the birth of a future king of England, and I guarantee the announcement of the birth did not go first to shepherds.
God loves nobodies. He delights in taking the most unlikely people and transforming their lives. When Jesus gives his sermon on the mountain (Matthew 5), he shocks the established religious leaders. He is speaking before a multitude of nobodies, and he essentially says to them: the kingdom of heaven is for you. You don't have to be a rabbi or a Pharisee or a Sadducee or wealthy. You're poor in spirit, but I've come to bring you life. You are grieving, and I have come to comfort you. You are without power, and I've come to strengthen you.
You are a nobody, but I am not banishing you. I'm here to love you. I'm here to give you the kingdom of God. I'm here to give you a purpose and reason for your life. You are my beloved child.
I was going to tie this in to Frank Laubach (who was essentially a nobody -- a lonely missionary on the field who met God in an amazingly intimate way, wrote about it, and now years later, his letters bless us as they call us into that incredible relationship with God), but I'm going to just finish with two pictures: one of one of my beloved children, when he was little, just having great joy in building a snowman, and years later, when I was at my dad's in New Hampshire, just a little snow fell, and I rushed out, a nobody dressed in hiking boots, pajamas and robe, covered with a coat, just to feel the joy of being in the snow and building a snowman.
Joy to you! Joy to the World! Our Lord has come!
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