No Room at the Inn

"She gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn." Luke 2:7

The Gospels provide few details about that first Christmas. So when we retell or reenact the story, we often embellish it. We add donkeys, camels and conversations. We number the wise men and name some characters. Sometimes we add silly characters like drummer boys. As long as we remember that such details are not part of the Gospels, this can help us better engage with the story.

Was it in the middle of a cold, dark night? Were the streets quiet or chaotic? Did Mary and Joseph visit every home and inn, desperately seeking any accommodation before finally finding someone willing to share a stable? We don’t know all the details, only that they found no place within the homes or inns of Bethlehem. 

As in many other retellings, in the Las Posadas traditions, the pilgrims are depicted knocking at multiple inns or homes, but are consistently turned away.

“Move along. I can’t open up, you might be a rogue.”

“I don’t care who you are, Let me sleep. I already told you we’re not going to open.”

Each refusal must have increased anxiety. What if there is no place to stay? With no other options, the family keeps searching, pleading for shelter. Finally, someone provides a humble place. It’s not much, but at least the stable provided shelter from the elements. 

And right there, in a stable, the Son of God is first seen in the flesh.

I suspect we often consider the Christmas story as if we are only observers. We watch on the sidelines as the holy family travels and seeks shelter. But imagine, for a moment, that you are in their place. Perhaps you can remember a time when you were desperately in need and unsure what to do. 

One January, I was travelling with a group of musicians in the Midwest. We were caught in an ice storm miles away from any shelter. The roads were treacherous, but it was too cold to wait it out. There really wasn’t a good choice. Cars inched along slowly. Eyes strained looking for hazards and dangerous ice patches. In an era before smart phones, we finally reached a city and sought lodging. After several no vacancy signs, we eventually discovered a modest motel with a few rooms where we piled in for the night. It was uncomfortable, to be sure, but it was warm. We were safe, and grateful. Yet that journey was of little consequence compared to the first Christmas. They weren’t just seeking shelter, but a safe place to give birth. Even then, doors wouldn’t open.

Maybe you find yourself facing uncertain times. You work to identify a solution, only to have it fall apart. It feels like you’re knocking on endless doors, only to be turned away. It feels like nothing will open up. This can make us anxious, unsettled, and fearful.

God has a plan for his pilgrims. Mary and Joseph may not have realized that God had already prepared a place for Jesus to be born. He knew the blessing that would be given to the entire world in that lowly stable. God revealed that, and guided them to shelter, in his time. There is no place so humble that he will not come!

So too, our Lord has prepared a place for us. It may not be where we expect. It may not be what we anticipated, but he will provide—both for the needs of our body, and for our spiritual needs through Christ, the one born in that stable. And he has prepared an even greater place for us for all eternity, not in a stable, but in his own, heavenly home.