786 words, 4 minutes read time.
My name is Amos, and I was just a shepherd. That’s all I ever thought I’d be—out in the fields day and night, keeping sheep safe from wolves and thieves. Life was simple, though not easy. People didn’t trust us. They avoided us in the town square, muttering about how we lived on the margins, always unclean, always outside their world. If you’d told me that God would speak directly to someone like me, I would’ve laughed. But I’m here to tell you it’s true. He did.
That night, it was just me and my four companions: Eli, Reuben, Malachi, and young Simon. We had settled near the fire under a sky full of stars, doing what we always did—watching, waiting, listening. Eli, as usual, was weaving some wild tale about a wolf he claimed to have outwitted. Simon wasn’t buying it, though. He was chasing a stray lamb again, muttering about how Eli’s stories were as loose as a lamb’s tether. Malachi and Reuben were debating whose turn it was to fetch water, and me? I was half-listening to all of it, my mind wandering to how many more nights like this I’d live before I grew too old to shepherd.
And then the night changed.
It started with light—a brightness so piercing it silenced us all. It wasn’t the sun or even the moon. It came from above and spread all around us, and before we could so much as cry out, we saw Him. An angel, standing in glory, shimmering like fire and gold. I couldn’t breathe. None of us could. Our hearts pounded as though the earth itself was shaking. I thought we were doomed, that the stories about God’s messengers bringing judgment were true, and this was the end.
“Do not be afraid.”
The angel’s voice was unlike anything I’d ever heard—strong yet soothing, like a song that resonated deep within my soul. He spoke of joy, great joy, for all people. A Savior had been born in Bethlehem. The Messiah. He told us how to find Him—a baby wrapped in cloths, lying in a manger. A manger! The Son of God born into a place meant for animals?
But before we could wrap our minds around what we’d heard, the sky opened up. A multitude of angels appeared, countless and glorious, filling the heavens with their song. “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom His favor rests.” The sound was like nothing I could compare it to—every note seemed to vibrate the very air around us. We stood there, eyes wide, mouths agape, hearts thundering, as the song of heaven poured over us.
And then it was silent. The angels were gone, the light dimmed, and we were left staring at each other, too stunned to speak. Eli broke the silence first, his voice trembling. “We have to go. We have to see this child.”
None of us argued. We left our flocks behind—a reckless thing for shepherds, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except finding the baby. The streets of Bethlehem were quiet as we searched, but the angel’s words guided us. And there, in a humble stable, we found Him—just as they’d said.
A young woman and a man knelt near a feeding trough, and in it lay the child, swaddled and peaceful. Mary and Joseph, they told us their names were. They didn’t seem surprised to see us, and when we told them what we had seen, Mary listened intently, as though she were treasuring every word. It felt surreal, standing there, five shepherds who didn’t belong in the courts of kings, let alone at the cradle of one. Yet here we were.
As we left the stable, we couldn’t keep quiet. How could we? We told everyone we met what we had seen, what the angels had said. Some people laughed, others scoffed. But there were those who listened and marveled. And us? We walked back to the fields with hearts so full they felt like they might burst.
God had chosen us—shepherds, the unseen and unimportant—to hear the greatest news ever told. We didn’t understand why. Maybe it was because we knew what it meant to care for lambs, to guard them with our lives. Maybe it was because we were lowly enough to recognize how truly great this moment was. Or maybe, just maybe, it was to show the world that God’s love reaches even the most overlooked among us.
I’ll never forget that night. And I’ll never stop telling this story. Because if God can see shepherds, He can see anyone. Even you.
