I imagine the birth of Jesus was a night like every other night. The year was filled with festivals and remembrances of times past. There were stories told of God’s faithfulness. They talked about the promises of God and the hopes and dreams of a better future.

God was coming some night, but not likely tonight.

But that night, there were shepherds tending their sheep in the dark. A young couple looked for a place to sleep and have a baby. A king was doing what kings do. Wisemen were looking at the stars.

It was a night like any other night. I don’t believe anyone’s expectations were too high for the night: Keep the sheep safe, have a baby, be waited on hand and foot, look at the stars. No one knew anything about anyone else’s story.

Then it happened. The darkness of the field was bright with light…and singing angels. The silence of the night was filled with a crying baby…and angels. A king’s peace of mind was shattered by some wisemen. 

Nothing was going to be the same. Everything was going to change. That was figurative and literal for everyone. For almost everyone else, life was simply a repeat of the day before and a pattern for the days to come. You know, mundane, usual, expected, ordinary, regular. 

Jesus birth was unexpected, extraordinary, unusual, irregular, imaginative. The birth of Jesus would alter history and life. The ripples in the pond of life would take time to reach the edges, however. 

I need a reminder of the ordinariness of that night to inform my hopes in the ordinariness of this night. 

Jesus has come and will come even if my night is dark and my expectations aren’t high. It will be some night, even if it isn’t tonight. 

Merry Christmas!