From Dallas to Bethlehem—What a Difference a Town Makes

I was born in Dallas, Texas—a city that does nothing small. Big highways. Tall buildings. Big hair (at least back then). The Dallas Cowboys. I entered the world in Parkland Memorial Hospital, a clean, sterile, well-equipped place with machines that beeped and doctors who knew exactly what they were doing. My mother was just a few miles from home. Everything was prepared.

I even arrived with a heart murmur—nothing dramatic, the doctors said. “She’ll outgrow it.” And I did. Technology diagnosed it. Medicine monitored it. Dallas took good care of me.

Then there’s Bethlehem.

No skyline. No hospital. No nursery wing. No medical charts. Just a small town, a weary couple, and a baby about to arrive with nowhere to go. Some of the saddest words ever spoken echoed through that little town:
“We don’t have room for you.”

Can you imagine Joseph? Wanting to be a good husband. A good father. Wanting safety, warmth, dignity for Mary and the child she carried. And door after door closing. No room.

Why Bethlehem? Why not a palace? Why not a place fit for a king?

Because God wasn’t trying to impress the world—He was trying to reach the heart.

Years later, that same child would hang on a cross, and the message would sound hauntingly familiar: We don’t have room for You here either. Rejected. Unwanted. Pushed aside.

And truth be told… not much has changed.

Even now, Jesus moves quietly from heart to heart, gently asking if there might be room. Not for ceremony. Not for perfection. Just for presence.

Bethlehem reminds us that God doesn’t need big cities or polished spaces. He enters messy places. Crowded lives. Hearts with murmurs, doubts, and little room left.

So this Christmas, may we love Bethlehem—not because it was perfect, but because God chose it anyway.

And may we whisper the words Joseph never heard:
“Yes, Lord. There is room here.”

Because when Jesus is welcomed in, even the smallest place becomes holy ground.