What are you predicting?
I’m predicting the Lakers will make it to the NBA finals this year.

I’m predicting my body gets more and more stiff and achy from here on out. (That’s a safe bet for a 42-year-old.)

We make weather predictions (“It’s supposed to be another dry winter.”) and relationship predictions (“They’ll never last!”), time predictions ("I bet the wedding starts a half hour late.") and traffic predictions ("I’ll bet Freeport will be faster than I-5.")

When Jesus was born, with the help of a young peasant virgin, soundtrack by an angelic choir, attended by dirty blue-collar shepherds, people weren’t predicting any of it. Later, people started to realize some old forgotten texts about a virgin giving birth, but those predictions were made hundreds of years earlier, and would never have been thought of as anything other than colorful poetic imagery.

We still hear the imagery, the powerful story of his birth, 2000 years later, piping through speakers everywhere we go this time of year all over America.

Silent night, holy night!
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace

Silent night, holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia,
Christ the Savior is born!
Christ the Savior is born

If you need to hear it one more time, here’s a cool version.