Introduction — The Road No One Would Have Chosen
There are certain roads in life that none of us would choose.
Some roads are too hard…
too lonely…
too costly…
too uncertain…
And yet, strangely, these are often the very roads where God chooses to walk with us most closely.
When we think of Christmas, we often picture starlit skies, warm lights, singing angels, and a peaceful manger. But the first Christmas was not a postcard scene. It was a long, dusty, exhausting road. A road taken by ordinary people… on an ordinary donkey… through ordinary towns… carrying an extraordinary secret.
It is easy to forget that Christmas began not in Bethlehem, but on a road.
A road God Himself chose.
And today, I want to tell you the story of that road—not merely from Mary’s eyes or Joseph’s heart—but from the quiet perspective of the One who carried them. The beast of burden. The steady companion. The humble creature who bore the weight of the one who bore the Savior.
No words.
No voice.
No fame.
Just footsteps in the dust.
And yet, through that quiet, unnoticed presence, something profound emerges—something about how God works, how God comes, how God chooses His roads, and how God uses the humble things of this world to carry His greatest mercies.
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1. The Road That Didn’t Make Sense
Luke tells it so briefly you can almost miss it:
> “Joseph went up from Galilee… to Bethlehem… to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child.” (Luke 2:4-5)
There it is. A whole world contained in a single sentence.
A young couple forced to travel ninety miles.
A woman nine months pregnant.
A man without options.
A dangerous road through desert and wilderness.
No one would have chosen it.
Certainly not Mary, who felt the child move with every jolt of the donkey’s step.
Certainly not Joseph, who worried with every mile whether he would make it in time.
Certainly not the donkey, who had no idea why his quiet life was being interrupted with such urgency.
And yet Scripture is unmistakably clear:
God chose this road.
“When the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman…”
(Galatians 4:4)
The fullness of time…
The exact moment…
The perfect road…
The perfect journey…
Even if it made no sense to anyone walking it.
Sometimes the road God chooses feels unreasonable.
Sometimes it feels inconvenient.
Sometimes it feels unfair.
Sometimes it feels like the wrong road at the wrong time.
But the road God chooses is always the one where He will reveal the most grace.
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2. Through the Eyes of the Least
Now imagine the journey through the eyes of the donkey.
He isn’t the hero.
He isn’t the center.
He isn’t even mentioned in Scripture.
But he is there.
His ears twitch at the sound of Mary’s breath in the cool of the morning.
His shoulders feel the shifting weight of new life carried by a young girl who whispers Scripture to calm herself.
His steps fall steady and faithful on a road he did not choose.
He hears Joseph humming hymns under his breath as he walks beside them.
He senses the tension, the worry, the tiredness, the hope.
He does not know theology.
He does not understand prophecy.
He cannot comprehend angels or righteousness or the magnitude of the moment.
But he knows something sacred is happening.
He can feel it in Mary’s soft touch…
in Joseph’s watchful care…
in the silence between them…
in the strange peace that seems to surround this small family.
And all he can do is carry them.
Quietly.
Faithfully.
Without applause.
Without mention.
Without recognition.
Yet Heaven sees.
Heaven remembers every step on that dusty road.
Because sometimes the ones who bear the greatest burdens receive no earthly credit for what they carry.
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3. The Journey of Burdens and Faithfulness
As the miles pass, the donkey feels the weight grow heavier.
Mary shifts, trying to find comfort, holding her swollen abdomen.
Joseph stops often, letting her rest, offering cool water, whispering reassurance.
Some of you know that weight—the weight of carrying a family through a season of change.
The weight of holding someone else’s pain while hiding your own.
The weight of walking a road you didn’t ask for.
Christmas adds pressure to it:
the empty chair at the table,
the burden of memory,
the ache of old wounds,
the exhaustion of carrying more than people realize.
You understand the donkey’s role more than you think.
And here lies one of the quiet miracles of Christmas:
God chose to reveal His glory through the unnoticed faithfulness of an ordinary creature.
The donkey teaches us that:
You don’t have to be in the spotlight to be in God’s story.
You don’t have to understand the full plan to walk in it.
You don’t have to feel strong to carry something sacred.
You don’t have to be honored on earth to be remembered in heaven.
Sometimes the holiest thing you will do in this world is simply keep walking.
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4. No Room — The Road Becomes a Dead End
Finally they see Bethlehem.
The donkey lifts his head.
Mary groans.
Joseph hurries.
This is the moment they’ve been pressing toward.
But the first door slams shut.
And the second.
And the third.
“There is no room.”
Joseph’s heart sinks.
Mary clings to him.
The donkey shuffles anxiously on his feet.
They have come all this way… for what?
If you’ve ever prayed with all your heart…
and knocked with all your strength…
and found every door shut…
you know this part of Christmas more than the songs describe.
And then, almost as if whispered by grace:
“There…
There is a stable.
There is a place.
It is small.
It is humble.
It is not what you hoped for.
But it is where God will be born.”
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5. When God Comes in Small Places
Mary and Joseph step inside.
The donkey follows.
The stable is dark, warm, musky, humble.
And there, in the quiet darkness…
in the presence of a faithful man…
a frightened girl…
and a donkey whose breathing fills the room like a gentle drumbeat…
Heaven touches earth.
Not with thunder.
Not with trumpets.
Not with armies.
Not with splendor.
But with a cry.
A baby’s cry.
The donkey lifts his head.
He recognizes that sound—the sound of new life.
But this cry is different.
Something in it feels like peace.
Something in it feels like hope.
Something in it feels like the beginning of a world being remade.
And in that stable, on that night, the donkey becomes the first of all creatures to kneel near the feet of the One who created him.
What a mystery.
What a mercy.
God arrives in the smallest places.
In the places no one chooses.
On the roads no one wants.
Through the people no one notices.
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6. The Road God Chose Becomes the Road We All Must Walk
Why did God choose this road?
Why this journey?
Why this donkey?
Why this stable?
Because the Incarnation is not God’s way of entering privilege—it is His way of entering suffering.
Christmas is not about God avoiding our condition, but embracing it.
He chose the long road so He could walk with us through ours.
He chose the rough road so He could meet us in ours.
He chose the lonely road so He could accompany us on ours.
The donkey reminds us of something essential:
God does not merely choose holy places—He sanctifies ordinary ones.
God does not merely choose holy people—He strengthens humble ones.
God does not merely choose holy moments—He enters unwanted ones.
So today, if you feel like you are carrying more than you can bear…
If you feel weary from a journey you didn’t choose…
If you feel unnoticed, unappreciated, unseen…
Christmas tells you something life-changing:
God knows your road.
God chose to walk it with you.
And God is with you still.
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7. The Donkey’s Lesson for Us All
Let me tell you the truth behind the gentle symbol:
You are not the Savior of the world.
But you may be carrying someone who needs to meet Him.
You may be carrying:
a hurting child,
a fragile parent,
a discouraged friend,
a weary spouse,
a family in crisis,
a church in transition,
a heart waiting for hope.
You may be the quiet, unnoticed strength beneath someone God is leading somewhere sacred.
Mary carried Christ within her.
The donkey carried Mary.
Joseph carried responsibility.
And God carried them all.
So does God carry you.
Even now.
Even here.
Even on this road.
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8. A Christmas Message for the Weary Road
If the donkey could speak, perhaps he would say:
> “I didn’t know the plan.
I didn’t understand the journey.
I only knew the One I carried mattered.
And in carrying Him, I found myself carried."
And that is Christmas.
We carry Christ in our service, our kindness, our generosity, our faithfulness…
and all the while, Christ is carrying us with His grace, His mercy, His strength, His cross.
The road God chose long ago becomes the road God chooses with us today.
Christmas is not simply a story to remember.
It is a road to walk.
A God to trust.
A Savior to carry.
And a Savior who carries us.
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Closing Appeal — The Road You Are On
My friend…
this Christmas…
what road are you on?
Are you on a road of confusion?
A road of grief?
A road of worry?
A road of loneliness?
A road of responsibility?
A road of exhaustion?
A road that feels too heavy to walk?
Then hear the message of Christmas:
God has not abandoned your road.
He has chosen it.
He is on it.
He walks it with you.
You are not alone.
Not then.
Not now.
Not ever.
Let this be the year you welcome Him into the dusty, ordinary, burdened road you find yourself on.
For the road God chose long ago…
is the very road where He chooses to meet you today.
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Closing Prayer
Father in heaven,
on this holy season, we remember the road You chose.
A road of humility.
A road of burden.
A road of quiet obedience.
A road that led to hope for the whole world.
Today, many of us walk roads we would never have chosen.
But You are the God who steps into our journey,
who walks beside us,
who carries us when we cannot take another step.
Teach us to trust the road You have placed beneath our feet.
Teach us to see Your presence in the small places,
Your grace in the humble moments,
Your strength in our weakness.
As Mary carried Christ, and the donkey carried Mary,
may we carry Your love into the world.
And may Christ carry our hearts into peace.
We thank You for Bethlehem.
We thank You for Jesus.
We thank You for choosing us.
In His name we pray,
Amen.
