This is a fictional story I've imagined of one of the shepherds' experience after being told by the angels that Christ was born in Bethlehem. Enjoy.
ANGELS ARE TERRIFYING! My heart hasn't stopped pounding yet. My comrades and I have run from horizon to horizon, anxious to reach the town of David. We're almost there! I don't know why, but none of us even gave this mission a second thought. Mission? Mission, I think, is the PERFECT word. This has to be the most important work a shepherd has ever undertaken. Sure, each of us has fancied himself a modern-day David, bravely going toe to toe with a bear or a treacherous pack of wild dogs to save our sheep and our livelihood. David is running through my mind, fast as I run from hilltop to hilltop. Night after lonely night, alone in the valley with the flock and my thoughts, my imagination has carried me away to the times of Grandpa's stories. Samson. Moses. Back to David again. David was a shepherd like me, and a musician too. His exploits were always my favorite stories as a child, the things of dreams. Dear God, my mind is racing! The city of David! The city of the great king! We've got to get there quickly! The Christ has been born! Excitement like I've never felt before pounds in my ears. I feel it in the air, and my buddies do too. The moon seems particularly bright tonight and we can actually see where we are going on this hill... And there it is! Not a big town, but where to begin looking for this child? None of us had thought to ask the angels any questions. It just felt like they said, "GO!" And yet we haven't spoken a word to each other. It's like we don't know what we are doing, and yet we do. I soon realize we have been running as if following prey, left and right, to and fro through this ancient village. And...there...it...is. Am I the only one who just knows? I shake off my momentary dazed feeling to realize that I am standing alone. The other shepherds have already stepped towards the familiar smell. A stable. Peace. A deep peace overwhelms me, and suddenly I am not panting, excited, or anything at all but at peace. I feel welcomed into the barn like a son coming home. A young couple are doting over him. Sam is the first to accept the offer to hold the baby. We all begin to talk with the parents, Mary and Joseph they are called. They say a frightening angel told them to name him Jesus. Taking this baby into my scruffy arms seems like the most important thing I've ever done. Jesus. Christ the Lord. Grandpa called him Immanuel. I had never really understood all the religious stories; they weren't as exciting as the heroic stories. But suddenly things I hadn't heard since I was a little boy race through my mind and my heart, and I understand them all. And I believe. In my arms is a helpless little baby, my Messiah. Just lying here in my arms, his almond eyes gazing up at me, he has saved me from my sins. All the guilt that has haunted me on the hilltops will no longer be my uninvited companion. None of it seems to matter anymore. My moment with the Christ has come and gone, and yet feels like it will never end. I used to avoid the streets of town and the leering glances of those who knew the things I'd done. Now, nothing seems more urgent than telling everyone I can find that Christ has come! I'm free!
