I packed without enthusiasm for an assignment to Bethlehem. I was afraid this was going to be just another wild goose chase. The editor of the newspaper I worked for had heard that many people had to go to Bethlehem to be counted for the census that was being taken. He didn't give me any specific instructions of what to cover, "just nose around and see what you can find", he told me. He probably thought there would be riots or something important happening there and wanted the paper to have a first hand account of any such happening.

When I arrived, there were people everywhere. Many had to stay in tents or sleep in doorways or wherever they could find shelter. Fortunately for me, the paper had arranged a room though it's connections. Once settled in, I went out on the streets and started nosing around asking questions. I had to quickly take my leave once in a while when people became nasty over the questions I was asking. I kept hearing about a baby that was born in a stable. I really was looking for something more sensational. Oh well, at least I could go back to the office with a human-interest story. Getting directions from one of the locals, I started to make my way through the crowds of people to the inn where the stable was located. On the way, I met up with three men dressed in eastern garb and struck up a conversation with them. After a bit, I believed they had escaped from an institution for the mentally insane. I had a hard time keeping from laughing at them after the story they told me about following a star to Bethlehem where a king had been born in a stable.

Arriving at the stable, I found a baby lying in a manger, surrounded by the three men that claimed they were from the East, kneeling in front of him, holding up gifts. I moved to a different spot, so I could see what the gifts were. The gifts looked very expensive. I wondered, Where did three lunatics get such gifts as these? I thought, Maybe they were who they claimed to be. Some of the people who were there told me that the mother was a virgin. How could that be? It just wasn't possible. I guessed that the parents made up that story, so they would look good to their family and friends. I couldn't find anything else in Bethlehem to write about, so I went back to the newspaper and wrote the story about the baby being born in a stable, leaving out the part about the virgin birth, for fear of being fired.

Many years later, when I was getting close to retirement, the editor called me into his office and told me there was a story he wanted me to cover. Over the years I had earned a reputation for investigative reporting. A politician or two had been in trouble because of me. It was about a carpenter from Nazareth who was healing people and doing miracles. He handed me a story just off the wire. After reading the story, this carpenter seemed like a fraud to me.

Arriving in Jerusalem, I set out to find the carpenter and see for myself what he was doing. I didn't care about the people he healed. It was my intention to find out what kind of trickery he used to perform these miracles. My interest heightened when he fed a multitude of people with five loaves and two fishes. I immediately investigated to find out how this was done. I found no carts to bring all that food in and even checked to see if the baskets had false bottoms. I stepped back to think over what I found. Scratching my head, I said to myself, how did he do this? One day the carpenter, called Jesus, received word that his friend Lazareth had died. It took three days to travel to where Lazareth's family lived. When Jesus arrived, he asked to go into the tomb. A stench filled the air when they opening the tomb. Nauseated, I stepped back. Were my eyes deceiving me? I saw Jesus coming out of the tomb talking with Lazareth. Again, I immediately began investigating to find out if Lazareth really had died three days ago. I could find no one who would dispute the fact that three days had passed since Lazareth had died.

The next day I had to head back to the newspaper office. On the trip back, memories of the trip to Bethlehem ricocheted around in my head. Going over my notes, one of them caught my attention. Jesus told the Pharisees, if you have seen me, you have seen the father. Back at my desk finishing the story, I paused. Not afraid of being fired, I wrote the following words.