Readers have asked me to repeat an article written for Christmas and which has been published at this time over the last several years.

I enjoy providing a fresh angle to the Christmas story and I am flattered that people from all over the world have indicated an interest in re-reading and in some cases re-enacting this imaginary interpretation of the world’s greatest story.

With apologies for several minor changes each year, I am happy to offer this edition of “the week before Christmas” as came to me in a dream.

Heaven must have regarded the time as “seven earth days to go”. Seven more rotations around its axis before that epochal moment planned eons before would take place in the most unlikely setting in the whole human world.

Seven days to go and things were moving into place. On Earth, the Caesar had issued his decree months earlier that a census should be taken of the entire Roman domain. This had triggered a mass stirring of Jews throughout their diaspora as they journeyed to their ancestral homes to be registered and made accountable in numbers to the Roman Empire.

Caesar had boastfully exercised his powers not knowing that he had been destined by the God of Israel, and not on his own steam, to order the mother and father of the Christ, the Messiah, into Bethlehem to fulfil the age-old prophecies of Micah. “But thou Bethlehem, though thou be little, yet out of thee shall come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel…”

Seven days to go, and Mary and Joseph were drawing nearer, step by step, to fulfil their most important assignment in the heavenly scheme of things, ordained by the master planner of the universe.

This was only one in a series of planned events that would lead up to the holy night.

Seven days to go, and other travellers were hurrying on to find their lama, for example, the three kings from the Orient who were following a star to where they knew not, but feeling compelled to tie the mystical strands of history and astrology together that would reveal the birthplace of the Lord.

Elsewhere a shepherd was planning his next move to find a lush pasture that would fatten his sheep to meet the expected demand from the influx of pilgrims descending on nearby Bethlehem, responding to the proclamation “that all the world should be taxed”.

A series of seemingly unrelated activities here on Earth, with the dots still unconnected, but in another place it was all a part of the vast and beautiful design that was setting the stage for that supreme act still to come.

For those final seven days there must have been great anticipation in heaven as the final pieces were being set and brought into play. Day after day, and night after night, a special song in the air was building up to its crescendo.

And then came the night before Christmas. The hosts of heaven were on their toes as they waited in anticipation of what was going to be the world’s most significant happening since the act of creation.

There was subdued excitement along the great corridors of the universe as the angels took up their places for the well-ordered symmetry of events that had been planned ever since the ages began.

The time had come to make that incomparable gift to mankind when God would become flesh and the most important delivery of a baby in the history of creation would take place.

The choir was tiptoeing into the stalls and whispering to each other in hushed tones, as the father had ordered complete quiet for the final countdown.

Gabriel, the choirmaster, hushed the gathering and ordered them back in line.

Arcott and Spencer, Cecile and Marcia, who were standing at the four corners to draw the curtains, took their places.

Suddenly a door opened and the archangel came out from the Throne Room to stride down the passageway lined with thousands of angels who granted proper obeisance to the majestic figure headed towards earth to announce the birth.

Inside the room he had gone through the final checklist with the Father.

Yes, the parents to be were now in Bethlehem.

Yes, they had found rest at the back of an inn.

Yes the shepherds were out on the hillside.

Yes, the star was in place.

And the wise men, still arguing and debating each other on points of astronomy and mathematics, had managed to get lost, finding themselves in Jerusalem.

“Go and search for him, you see, and when you find him come back and tell me so that I can go worship him too, you hear?” the crafty King Herod was telling them.

Ah, this was going to be a night!

Meanwhile, Bethlehem had taken on a festive air as hundreds who had turned up for the census were making time for partying and joyful reunion with family and friends. The streets were crowded with shoppers seeking souvenirs. It was Grand Market time, with hawkers peddling, customers bargaining, and feasting, music and dancing at every street corner.

No one had time to notice the nondescript couple who moved anxiously from building to building trying to find a haven for the pregnant girl astride the donkey.

“No room in the inn”, “Sorry we’re full”, “Try elsewhere”, “Booked out”, “Can’t you see?”, was the response as the innkeepers sent the haggard pair from door to door.

One person finally took pity and led them to a little stable around the back, “It’s not much, you can rest on the hay, a little water, and that’s all I have, take it or leave it, Sir.”

On Earth, that moment was just a minor distraction from the music and the lights and the dancing as the people partied like never before.

But in heaven that was the signal, the time for go, the finger-snapping moment for God to come into the world, not as a spirit, but as a humble, frail, mortal man in flesh.

And, as the baby made his first cry, a most marvellous thing happened on a hillside several miles away.

The mightiest of archangels presented himself in a flash of light to a nervous, frightened, quivering set of shepherds.

He made the formal announcement, and then the rustics, spellbound, saw the curtains of the sky roll back to the four corners of the globe as a host of angels filled the heavens singing that first Christmas carol, “Glory to God in the Highest, and on Earth, peace and goodwill to all men.”

It made music around the world, but for those magic moments only the shepherds heard it, and only the shepherds saw the angels. Not the merrymakers, not the shoppers, not the dancers, not the innkeepers, not the noise makers.

But in the stable behind the inn, the baby suddenly stopped crying, and His eyes opened, His lips pursed into a smile, His tiny hands tapped out a gentle applause, and His mother knew that He was listening.

On the hillside, the concert was over. The heavenly choir took their exit. The curtains were restored.

The shepherds wept. They were considered the lowest caste in the society of that time, yet God had chosen them for one of the greatest honours in the whole of human history.

Once again, it’s the night before Christmas. “Let us now go to Bethlehem and see this thing which has come to past.”