When There Is No Room at the Inn

An Invitation to Make Space for the God Who Comes Quietly

Dear friends,

If your heart feels crowded these days, you are not far from Bethlehem.

We often imagine that the inn was full because of the census, because of history, because of forces beyond anyone’s control. But the Gospel does not linger on the reason. It simply tells us the truth. There was no room. And so God went elsewhere.

I write to you because I know that feeling. Not only as a monk or a hermit, but as a Christian living among demands, expectations, and the quiet pressure to hold everything together. We do not refuse God. We are simply full.

Bethlehem is God’s answer to this fullness. He does not argue His way in. He does not rearrange our schedules or insist on attention. He becomes small enough to be received only by those who are willing to make space.

The mystery is this. God chose poverty not because He lacked power, but because He wished to be near without frightening us. St. Isaac the Syrian says that humility is the garment of the divinity. In the cave, God puts that garment on for good.

You may feel unprepared for Him. Too tired. Too distracted. Too worn by disappointment or grief. But the cave was not prepared either. It was simply available. This is all God asks.

The shepherds did not clean themselves up before they came. They did not analyze what they had heard. They went, as they were, and they stayed. Their gift was not insight but presence. This is the gift still being received.

If prayer feels difficult, do not force words. Sit near the Child. Let your heart learn again how to be quiet. God does not need to be explained. He needs to be welcomed.

An elder once said that the soul grows sick from complexity and is healed by simplicity. Bethlehem is not a spiritual achievement. It is a return. A return to what is essential. A return to a God who does not overwhelm but waits.

I do not know the shape of your life or the burdens you carry. But I know this. God has already chosen nearness. He has already come low enough to meet you where you are.

Make a little room tonight.

Not in your schedule, but in your heart.

Not by doing more, but by letting go.

Stay near the cave.

Even if only in desire.

Even if only for a moment.

The Child is there.

And He is enough.

With you at Bethlehem,

a fellow watcher in the night.