The Shepherd’s Story by Melissa Huffman
“Tell me the story again, Grandfather,” I pleaded. I’d heard the story so many times that I knew it by heart, but I loved watching the expressions on my grandfather’s face and hearing his gravelly voice speak the words that were forever engraved in the lines of my memory.
“Again?” he chuckled and shook his head.
“Please?”
“Are you arguing with your elder?”
I bowed my head, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”
Grandfather laughed, “I was only playing with you, Jona.”
He sighed and sat in front of me by the fire he had built moments earlier.
“It was on this very night, about forty years ago now. I was a young man, quite handsome, I must say.”
“Grandfather...”
“I know, I know. Let me see...” He gazed up at the starry sky. “Yes, it was a night much like tonight. We were out in the fields tending the sheep, just like you and I are right now, but every animal around was restless. We didn’t know what to expect. I think we were all waiting for wolves to show up at any moment. But what we saw that night…we were not expecting at all. No, not at all…” His eyes took on that faraway look that I loved. The lines on his face softened, and he was once again that young man in the fields.
“What happened next?” I whispered.
“The most marvelous thing! Suddenly, there appeared before us an angel! The glory shining around him was so bright and his appearance so frightening. We were terrified! I couldn’t move! I just stood there watching, when the angel smiled and told us that we shouldn’t be afraid, that he brought joyful news for the world. He said our Savior was born that night, and he was lying in a manger, of all things!”
Grandfather paused, looking off into the distance. I let him ponder a moment before my impatience wouldn’t let me sit still any longer.
“Then what happened?”
“Hm?” he brought himself back to the present moment. “Oh, yes. As if one angel wasn’t enough, a whole multitude appeared! And they were praising God! How their praises rang out over those fields that night. I had never heard anything like it, nor have I heard anything like it since. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the angels shot off like shooting stars in the sky, back to Heaven. The silence they left behind was deafening. Even the animals were quiet, and a stillness settled over the fields.”
“Then you were the first one to move.”
“Yes, I began to gather a few supplies. ‘What are you doing, Gemariah?’ Micaiah asked me.
“‘What does it look like?’ I responded. ‘I’m going to Bethlehem, aren’t you?’
“He hesitated, but Rechab spoke up, ‘Micaiah, let’s all go!’
“So it was agreed upon, that we should all go to see this Savior, the Christ who had been prophesied about so long ago.
“The journey was short, and each of us kept quietly to ourselves, meditating on the things that had taken place.
“We checked several different stables before we found him—a little babe wrapped in cloths, lying in a manger, just as the angel had said. His young mother practically glowed, even though she looked exhausted; her betrothed huddled nearby seeing to her every need.
“And the babe, oh! What a babe he was! At first, he seemed like any other baby, but there was something about him. An air of majesty…holiness…glory.” Grandfather paused again, this time letting his eyelids slide shut, as if pulling out memories and looking them over in his mind, shutting everything else out.
He cleared his throat and continued. “There lay our Savior, as told to us by the heavenly host, greeted by humble shepherds, praised by the song of our bleating sheep.” A single tear slipped down his weathered cheek. “Why did he choose us?” he quietly asked no one in particular.
I thought for a moment, why did the King of kings and Lord of lords choose shepherds—society’s outcasts—to witness his birth? My young mind could come up with only one reason.
“Maybe because he knew you would tell everyone.”
A small smile flicked across my grandfather’s face. “Perhaps, for that is exactly what we did. After some time basking in his presence, we left rejoicing and telling everyone for miles about the birth of the Messiah. We promised to tell our children about it too—and our children’s children.” Grandfather ruffled my hair and smiled down at me. “And we will keep telling the story, so the world will always remember why we celebrate on this night.”
“Why do we celebrate?”
“Jona! You know the answer to that.”
“I know, I just like to hear you say it.”
Grandfather shook his head. “This old man’s going to wear his voice out if you don’t stop pestering.”
“You love telling this story.”
“I do at that,” Grandfather laughed, then suddenly grew serious again. “Because, son, that babe grew up to become a man hated by the world. He performed miraculous signs and wonders, and still, people doubted him. He loved them, and they crucified him—”
“But he rose again.”
“Yes, on the third day he rose again, and he’s alive still—”
“With his Father in Heaven!”
“He’ll be back someday.”
I sat there by the crackling fire, looking into the eyes that once saw the face of God. I reflected on the story they told: a story of a babe lying in a manger who became a man hanging on a cross. A story of love like no other. This story was bloody and frightening and beautiful and true. It was the story of why we celebrated, why the angels sang out their praises. A story that was more than just a story. It was about our Savior who lived, died, and lived again, all for us, mere shepherds tending our sheep, and for everyone past, present, and future.
Melissa Huffman is a writer and editor with a bachelor's degree in English. She spends her days substitute teaching and taking care of her home and family—her husband, two kids, and two dogs. She loves hiking and traveling, and of course, curling up with a good book. She is also very active in her church, where she serves in the children’s ministry and the student ministries on Sundays and Wednesdays.