Earth seldom witnessed such a scene as Mary, and
Joseph, and the Eternal Word, in the streets of Bethlehem at
nightfall. The cold, early evening of winter was closing in.
Mary and Joseph had striven in vain to get a lodging… Within
Mary’s Bosom was the Incarnate God Himself, the Eternal
Word, the Maker and Sovereign of all in Bethlehem, the actual
Judge of every passing soul that hour. But there was no room
for them.
The village was occupied with other things, more
important according to the world’s estimate of what is
important… Everyone was busy. This obscure group from
Nazareth—that carpenter from Galilee, that youthful Mother,
that hidden Word—there was no room for them. They did not
even press for it with enough of complimentary importunity. It
is not often that modesty is persuasive. A submissive
demeanor is not an eloquent thing to the generality of men. If
God does not make a noise in His own world, He is ignored.
Here in Bethlehem is the true Caesar come, the Monarch of all
the Roman Caesars, and there is no room for Him, no
recognition of Him…
To all but its Creator the world makes no difficulty of at
least a twofold hospitality—to be born and to die, to come into
the world and to go out of it. Yet how did it treat Him in both
these respects? He was driven among the animals and beasts
of burden to be born… He was to be born outside the walls of
Bethlehem, as He died outside the walls of Jerusalem… So far
as men were concerned, it was as much as He could do to get
born, and obtain a visible foothold on the earth. So He was not
allowed to die a natural death… And all the while He was
God!