Bob Stillerman

Last week, an important emissary for an African queen finds himself seeking good news in a faraway land. He is accomplished in every way, but his accomplishments are invisible in this strange place. His tongue, and his wardrobe, and his darker complexion betray him as an outsider to important Romans

We’re human. And sometimes what we give, be it our actions, our words, our time, our treasures, are not always received as we intended. But sometimes, we get it right. Sometimes we give in a way such that our praises make everyone, especially the intended receiver, better.

The shepherds’ knee-knocking begins at the appearance of the angel of the Lord and intensifies with the angel’s outrageous declaration. But their terror soon turns to joy and elation in seeing a new-born Jesus, swaddled in strips of cloth, laying in a make-shift crib, in the middle of a make-shift nursery, held in the arms of a frightened-but-determined young mother.

My interest is piqued by the word “very” in this morning’s text, especially when combined with the word “good.” We’ve read the first creation story in Genesis enough times to recognize the import of the phrase very good. God creates each part of creation: land and sky and seas, vegetation, morning and evening lights, heavenly lights, people, critters, swimming things, and everything else that fills up the universe. And then God calls all of it very good.

Mary, and Mary, and Salome rise early in the morning, though morning is a generous term. Is it really morning in those pre-dawn hours where a boggy darkness betrays any conceivable hope for the smallest sliver of sunlight. No, this darkness is heavy, thick even, and it seems in no hurry to dissipate.

When I was growing up, my dad worked for the Baptist Retirement Homes of North Carolina, and at that time, it was an organization whose funding was significantly tied to the generosity of churches throughout our state. As the primary leader of the organization that meant Daddy was also its chief promoter and fundraiser.