Advent Devo | Week Two

From the very beginning, it’s a tale of two kings. One wields temporal power, sweeping across the known world with influence and might. The other enters as a humble servant, his purpose rooted in sacrifice and redemption.

The first king’s reign, however vast, would end one day, like all earthly thrones do. But the second King? His life would end—briefly—only to rise again, conquering sin and death, ascending to glory, and reigning forever. One day, every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess that He is the King of kings and Lord of lords.

The first king, Caesar Augustus, commanded the throne of the most powerful empire on earth. The second King, Jesus Christ, was born in a stable in the smallest of towns, Bethlehem—a humble village tucked into the hills of Israel, barely worthy of mention. A temporary shelter for animals served as the throne room for the Savior of the world.

I grew up in a small, central Indiana town—Sheridan. Just a blip on the map. It has its charms and quirks, but let’s be honest, it’s a quiet place that may one day fade into the expanding reach of Indianapolis. Nazareth, where Joseph lived, wasn’t much different. It was an overlooked village, far from the grandeur of Jerusalem. But Joseph’s ancestral home was Bethlehem. So, when Caesar issued a decree requiring everyone to return to their hometowns for a census, Joseph did what you did in those days: he obeyed.

This carpenter packed up his young, expectant wife Mary and made the grueling journey south. It was a trip not made out of choice but necessity—a response to the orders of one king. Yet, it was orchestrated by the will of a greater King. For centuries, the prophet Micah had declared, “But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are too little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose coming forth is from of old, from ancient days” (Micah 5:2). And so, the child was born right where God had planned all along.

No fanfare marked His birth. No royal proclamations or public celebrations. Jesus entered the world in quiet obscurity. But not for long.

On the outskirts of Bethlehem, a group of shepherds kept watch over their flocks in the stillness of the night. Shepherds—hardly the elite of society, more accustomed to the company of sheep than people. Suddenly, the sky erupted with God’s glory. His presence surrounded them, and they were terrified. Then came a voice: “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11).

Before the shepherds could fully grasp the words, a multitude of angels filled the heavens, praising God and declaring, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” (Luke 2:14). Imagine it—God choosing to announce the birth of His Son to shepherds, the most ordinary of people. And imagine their response: they didn’t question or delay. They ran.

Arriving in Bethlehem, they found the child just as the angel said—wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger. Awestruck, the shepherds shared their story with Mary and Joseph. The simplicity and majesty of their encounter left everyone marveling at what God had done.

And then, the shepherds returned to their fields, glorifying and praising God. Mary and Joseph stayed, treasuring all these things in their hearts. And the world? It continued, perhaps unaware, that history had just been written in the humblest of ways.

This is the beauty of the Christmas story: the King of the Universe came not in power but in humility. He was born to an ordinary family, in an ordinary place, to bring extraordinary hope.

Aaron Johnson | Toolbox Ministry