Of Lambs and Kings

“Why are we here?”

“You heard, the angels, Reuben,” Benjamin said. “To find the baby.”

“Yes, yes. I know,” Rueben whispered as the two shepherds crept just inside the stable where a young woman and her husband knelt by a manger. “But why us?”

The young couple in the stable was so focused on the bundle in the hay, they seemed unaware anyone had joined them. The shepherds eased quietly forward until they caught a glimpse of the tightly swaddled baby. A lamb pushed into the stable between them and stretched its muzzle toward a wisp of hay poking through the manger slats.

“Cush now, little one,” said Reuben, drawing the animal back. “You weren’t supposed to follow us inside.”

Benjamin arched his head over his friend’s shoulder in order to see the baby’s face. “Ah, Reuben. He’s a beautiful lad now, isn’t he?”

“Aye. You can tell he’s born for greatness, that one. Just look how he gazes around with those tender eyes—like he already understands what’s going on. Why, he could be one of our lambs; he’s that quiet and soft.”

“True enough. But tender as these lambs are, they’re born for one thing – dying in Temple service. This child’s nothing like that. He has something grand in his future—something that will change the world, I’ll wager. Why else would angels go to the trouble of appearing to such as us? He’ll not be like these poor beasts, shoved through the crowds and feeling the rough hands of sinners lay their guilt on his shoulders.”

“True enough, Benjamin. He’ll not feel the warm flow of life trickling out as the knife pierces them the way our lambs will. He’s more likely to be a shepherd than a sheep,” Reuben said, backing out of the stable with his lamb in tow.

Once outside, he set the little fur ball down. “There now. Off you go. No animals in the stable this night.” The lamb scuttled off to his mother as Reuben stretched and yawned in the crisp night air. “We’d best take over watching the sheep for Eli and give him a chance to come see the babe. He’ll be wondering what’s taken us so long.”

The two friends turned to walk up the hill when a sound from the stable made Reuben jerk to a halt. “What was that? Did you hear it?”

Benjamin smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “You’re as jumpy as I’ve ever seen you tonight, Reuben. It was nothing – just the baby cooing to his mother.”

“Was it now? I wonder…” Reuben squinted toward the stable door. “I could have sworn it was the cry of a newborn lamb.”

Mild He lays His glory by
Born that man no more may die…
Hark! The herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn King!" (Charles Wesley)