This a story of two people who were at the center of one of history’s most memorable events. A man and his fiancée were two unremarkable people, neither powerful nor famous, known only in their local community — and even then, known for being quiet, unassuming, ordinary people, although they were noted for their piety and attendance at worship.

He was a laborer, working with his hands, getting things done, skilled at his work, dependable. If he took a job, he finished it, and his work was of a superior quality. This was one of his gifts. He did not suffer from want, nor did he have a surplus; he had just enough. And for him, enough was as good as a feast. You might say he had his daily bread and was unburdened by worries over what might happen tomorrow. He was one of those people who had a quiet inner peace. He was solid, reliable, a good friend, a good neighbor, and a good citizen. So reliable was he that he could be counted on to travel to his hometown to pay exactly what he owed in taxes and to comply with government regulations about registering for the census.

In contrast to his humble demeanor, he was in fact descended from one of the most admired kings of his culture, making his ancestry rather remarkable. But he himself was — well, just ordinary.

His peace had been disturbed lately by an unexpected, almost unbelievable set of circumstances, followed by a dream or vision perhaps. The message was clear enough, but this situation was a radical departure from anything he had ever experienced before. Indeed, his present situation was different from anything he had ever heard of before. He was confused, disappointed, surprised, not quite certain of what to think, and just a little apprehensive. He was, in short, a somewhat reluctant participant in history, not unlike many of his culture before him who had initially balked at the enormous responsibilities thrust upon them. Responsibilities they neither sought nor wanted but which they carried out as best they could given their human frailties, just as he would carry out his own.

He was engaged to a girl. And although the events they were to experience affected them both, it was the girl who bore most of the burden. Like him, she was quiet, reverent, dependable, and faithful at worship, but otherwise just a common peasant girl. The man was older than she and settled, while she was young, not particularly worldly, quiet, respectful, and not much different from other girls her age. Like the man, she too had something happen that she found hard to believe. In fact, swirling around her and her soon-to-be husband were a series of events that astounded all of them. Events not unheard of in their culture, but very exceedingly rare. Her aged cousin Elizabeth and her husband had unexpectedly become pregnant at an age far past the time most mothers had delivered their last child. It was a miracle, of course, for her cousin’s husband was also aged. Nevertheless, the pregnancy was welcomed, as their culture valued children, and infertility was seen as an absence of God’s favor.

But God was very much present in the lives of these four ordinary people: This man, this girl, her cousin, and her cousin’s husband.

Now, the custom in those days was that a census was required periodically to count the number of people and to collect taxes.

Counting the population was essential to knowing how many men of military age were available in the event an army was needed. It was an inconvenience to the man and his wife, because it meant traveling on foot to another town about a week away or more depending on how well the young girl could travel. The man did not have a horse, mule, donkey, or even an ox, much less a wagon to pull. And the journey was roughly 84 miles from their home. At 12 miles a day, it was arduous for her, for she was pregnant in her third trimester.

Her pregnancy had been the cause of some concern to her. It had been explained — or rather announced — to her soon after her cousin got pregnant, but it was nevertheless a bewildering state of affairs. Her pregnancy had been the quiet topic of discussion among her family. Not officially announced, but whispered, suspected, rumored.

She was engaged to her future husband, but in keeping with the custom of those days, they had not consummated their relationship. And yet despite her flowing robes, some suspected what was true. She was with child and due to deliver. Quietly, the girl had been arranging things: Gathering swaddling material for the baby, preparing a bed for him — tasks that had not gone unnoticed. Since there had been no wedding ceremony, her condition was scandalous for that time. The suspicion was that she was not virtuous. Being whispered about as she went about her chores was devastating to her. Who would believe her story? Who would accept her if her situation were known? What would her future husband do or say?

This so-called scandal caused her great distress at first. It is true that she had a dream or vision of what was to come, but the notion of it was frightening, even more so when she realized that her monthly time had not come as expected for six months. She had great trepidation over telling her future husband. He was a good man, kind and understanding, and she could tell he loved her. But still, what would he think? How would he react to this development?

When the time came that she could no longer conceal the changes in her body, she had to tearfully tell him. He took it calmly and said nothing, but in his heart he decided that the best thing was to end the relationship, quietly and with dignity. But he too had a dream, and in that dream, it had been revealed that his fiancée was pregnant via a miracle and that he should not divorce her. And so, in obedience to what he understood as a command, he did not divorce her, continuing his relationship with her for better or worse, uncertain of what the future held — just as many of the heroes in his culture had done when faced with similar challenges.

The man and his fiancée dutifully went to the home of the man’s ancestry in obedience to the government requirements at the time. The trip was difficult for her, and at best they could only travel about 12 miles a day on foot. The man did all he could to ensure her comfort, but that was difficult given his limited circumstances. Water and food and shelter were not readily available, and often they did without one or the other for what seemed like a long time. Finally, they arrived at the small town, which was his ancestral home, only to find that others had arrived before them and there was no place for them to stay. A kindly inn owner offered them space in the stable, a modest meal, and water, which they graciously accepted as though it was equivalent to a palace, for that is the kind of people they were.

The journey had been arduous and physically difficult, and the time for her delivery arrived late in the night there in that stable. Whereas at home she would have been attended by the women of the community, here she had to deliver alone with only the support of her betrothed.

That special day, the Divine became human. The Divine gave up his position as Lord to enter this world virtually unheralded, except to a few shepherds tending their flock who had also experienced a vision from angels, and to three men who were led to Bethlehem to see what they had suspected from their devout attention to the Scriptures.

These humble shepherds and devout wise men were the first to witness the appearance of God incarnate, the Messiah, whose name is Immanuel meaning “God with us” and whose coming had been predicted by a prophet 700 years before.

Coming not as a conqueror, not as a warrior, but as an infant, born to simple devout people in a stable because there was no room for them and laid in a stone feeding trough.

This was God, who had come to experience hunger, thirst, temptation, and discomfort as men did.

This obscure event, this humble child born to a humble family in the most humble of circumstances, marks the beginning of the life of one who forever changed history and God’s relationship to mankind.

There is a coda to this story — one often overlooked because it is tragic. Nevertheless, this tragedy had been foretold in the Scriptures as well. Herod, somehow having learned of the birth of the Messiah, desired to know more about this child. Not to worship him, not to protect him, but to kill him. So troubled was he by the news of this birth, so fearful was he, that he lied to the wise men to get them to reveal where this child was. But they too received a word from the Lord and did not report to Herod.

So the child and his extraordinary and yet most ordinary parents were forced to flee to Egypt until Herod died.

Herod, driven insane by his own insecurity and desire to hold on to power at any cost, decreed that all the male children under two years of age in Israel be killed. This was foretold by Jeremiah.

Remember these little ones who are often overlooked, who died in their innocence, for they too are a part of the story. So cruel is the heart of man that the entry of God into the world was met not with rejoicing but with tragedy. A tragedy of significance recorded in the Scriptures to emphasis how far men can stray from God and to underscore the need for His coming and His sacrifice.

For another 12 years, not much is known about this young man. His family retreated to Nazareth in Galilee, and at age 12 he appeared in the Temple demonstrating great understanding of the Scriptures. We have no reliable record of him until He reappears in history at age 33.

This is the story of the Divine coming to earth as a man. He was born in a stable, laid in a manger, raised to work as a carpenter, owned no land, commanded no armies, wrote no great books, and held no position of authority other than that arising from his teaching. He died tragically but changed the world forever.

The man was Joseph, the girl Mary, and the child Jesus.