“The angels knew what was going on even if no one else did. They grasped the bizarre reality of Shakespeare stepping onto the stage, of God making Himself vulnerable, dependent, and human — making Himself Adam. And so, in a more appropriate sense, they arranged a concert and put on what was no doubt the greatest choral performance in planetary history.
Were the kings gathered? Where were the people with the important hats? Where were the ushers, the corporate sponsors?
The Heavenly Host, the souls and angels of stars, descended into our atmosphere and burst in harmonic joy above a field and some rather startled shepherds.
But the crowd was bigger than that. The shepherds were a distinct minority. Mostly, the angels were just singing to sheep.
I’m sure those animals paid attention, and not just because there was a baby in their food bowl.
Sidenote: Does this sound like something a human would make up? Does it sound like something a bunch of cult builders would create to impress potential tithers?
And then the Holy One, the World-Maker, was born in a …in…uh…
And the angels themselves descended, overflowing with jubilation and sang to a randomly selected flock of sheep and a couple of their unwashed, illiterate shepherds — the Lord Incarnate’s first worshipers.”
One of my favorite parts from Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl, by N.D. Wilson.