Thursday, December 10 “When Shepherds Lately Knelt”

“I come in half-belief, a pilgrim strangely stirred.”

Half-belief. I know this. Which half of me believes? Some days my faith is firm. Some days it is entirely absent. I doubt that I am ever free from doubt. And yet, I want to believe. I long for a certainty that never quite seems to come. Nevertheless, I will not abandon my faith. I will not abandon my Lord. I have nowhere else to go. I am like the father of the suffering child, who pleads with Jesus: “I believe, help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)

“Sweet new-born babe, how frail …”

I have held new-born infants in my arms. They are indeed frail. They feel fragile. They seem helpless. Their tiny limbs flail to no purpose. I remember the admonition of my liturgy professor: “Whatever you do, don’t drop the baby!” So I, coward that I am, ask a parent to hold the child, and I content myself with the water.

“The Prince of Peace for me …”

And yet, the one in the manger is the Prince of Peace, the savior of the world. How can this newborn child be the Almighty? I am so much larger than he is, so much stronger, so much more powerful! And yet, I must not let appearances deceive me. I am tiny. I am weak. I am helpless. I am the frail one, not him. I am at his mercy. If I am ever to have peace, it must come from him.

“To die, to live, and not alone for me.”

This is the movement of the faith: from them—the shepherds, to me—the pilgrim, to us. That is how the church is built. We hear something, we see something, someone, some stranger. We follow, perhaps against our will. We come to the one who calls us, not knowing that we are called. And we encounter the one who greets us, who heals us, and who saves us. A part of our healing is that we join together. It’s me, there at the manger, but it’s not just me. It’s never just me.

– Reverend Dr. David W. Johnson, Associate Professor of Church History and Christian Spirituality