‘There were shepherds living out in the fields nearby.’ Luke 2:8 These words hardly describe the conditions the men were living in, they were toughing it out in difficult circumstances. Having just experienced another storm in my country I have a glimpse of these harsh surroundings. We were advised to stay indoors because of the strong winds. So I was able to stay in the safety of my own home. Though I did give a thought to those who had to work out in the inclement weather. These shepherds had hardly any shelter. The nights were bitterly cold with the constant danger of wolves and wild animals. Huddled round the fire for warmth and safety, the language would have been spicy and the stories ribald. Shepherding wasn’t for wimps.
To add to their problems and discomfort there was suddenly a sky full of angels. Incredulity is too mild a word. Language silenced, stories forgotten, they had to go and see this phenomenon. No doubt they made provision for their sheep, which after all were their livelihood. They stomped down to the village and stood awkward and tongue-tied in front of the baby who was probably smaller than their lambs.
Then they walked out of the story and morphed into tea-towelled-headed children, but the shepherds lives would never be the same again. I wonder if they were still alive thirty-three years later . They would still remember. They had worshipped at the stable of the coming Messiah.