DAY 1 — A MOUNTAIN
Locating the Birth in Time and Space: When Heaven Names the Moment
If you’ve ever wondered whether God moves in the real world — the world of headlines, deadlines, and political noise — the Nativity answers with a resounding yes.
Luke doesn’t start with “Once upon a time.”
He starts with Caesar Augustus, the emperor who thought he ran the world.
Matthew doesn’t begin with a fairy tale either.
He begins with a genealogy, a long line of flawed, real people whose stories are stamped into the dirt of history.
This is not myth.
This is God stepping into the timeline.
And the moment He chooses is wild.
A census is underway — the kind of bureaucratic headache that clogs roads and fills inns.
A young couple is traveling under pressure.
A star is rising in the East, bright enough to catch the attention of scholars who read the sky like a library.
Prophecies whispered for centuries suddenly start clicking into place like tumblers in a lock.
Isaiah’s virgin.
Micah’s Bethlehem.
David’s line.
A star that moves with purpose.
It’s as if heaven is saying,
“Watch this. Everything is aligning.”
And right in the middle of all that cosmic choreography —
a young woman is carrying a child.
Baby! Joy in the making.
Not theoretical joy.
Not symbolic joy.
Not doctrinal joy.
But the kind of joy that kicks, rolls, stretches, and presses against the walls of a mother’s body.
The incarnation is not just a theological event.
It is a pregnancy.
A heartbeat.
A mother’s breath catching as she feels life move inside her.
And then — the announcement.
Not to kings.
Not to influencers.
Not to the people with microphones or platforms.
To shepherds.
Night-shift workers.
People who smell like sheep and sleep under the stars.
People who don’t get invited to anything important.
And suddenly the sky explodes.
Light. Voices. Glory.
A message so big it shakes the air:
“A Savior has been born. Christ. Lord.”
This is the mountain.
The moment when heaven leans over the edge of eternity and says,
“Right here. Right now. This is the moment everything changes.”
And the shepherds — stunned, blinking, hearts pounding — do the only thing that makes sense.
They run.
Because when God shows up in your field, you don’t stay where you are.
You move.
Life is Fun, But Not a Joke 