Crowds are synonymous with Christmas. Haven’t you noticed? The Malls are packed, the check out lines wind around forever, the roads are crammed with cars, airports are jammed, even churches have a few more people than normal. Even our homes are teeming with additional decorations, parties, and activities. The problem with crowds at Christmas is that they tend to trample Jesus. We get so involved in the shopping that we miss the Savior. We are so busy with travel that Jesus is left home alone. We are in such a hurry at Christmas that we aren’t living well, our souls are in need of a break, if not intensive care.

The first Christmas, in some respects, was not unlike Christmas today. The tiny town of Bethlehem was crowded. People were stirring everywhere. People were probably sleeping on the streets, in alleys, or anywhere else they could find a spot. The merchants were up earlier than usual waiting for the influx of visitors to purchase their wares. The barking of street dogs and the complaint of donkeys pulling carts awakened children.

The owner of the inn had awakened earlier than most in the town. His inn was full. All the beds were taken. People were everywhere, on mats, in chairs, curled up in every corner.

The crowds and the clamor hushed the cry of the baby born outside the inn probably in a cave, placed in a manager, normally reserved for sheep, for a bed. The baby boy was wrapped in strips of clothing to keep him warm. And, God, the proud father, sent out a birth announcement like none other. And it should be like none other because never before had God taken on human flesh. The transcendent God was now living in human flesh. This child, God incarnate, would change the world. The citizens of Bethlehem did not hear the announcement of the baby. The tiny town was too jam-packed, too noisy, too consumed, too preoccupied. The mayor of Bethlehem didn’t get the announcement. The High Priest in Jerusalem was left out of the loop. So, too, was Caesar Augustus and the members of his Royal court. None of the officials, none of the power brokers received the announcement.

The announcement of Jesus’ birth came to sheepherders. Sheepherders? Sheepherders were today’s social equivalent of a homeless person living on the street who does odd jobs for minimal pay. Sometimes we don’t hear God because it’s too crowded and loud. If God would speak to those who are outcast by society, overlooked by religious leaders, and outside the hustle and bustle of the city, then if I get in a similar place I can hear him speak to me. If God spoke to the shepherds, then there is hope for me.