The players chosen, no auditions needed.  Creation awaiting the Plan to unfold.
 Mary and Joseph, devoted though poor, headed for Bethlehem with little to spare. The counting of citizens, the return to a home, the promise of old  fulfilled by the LORD. A burden of taxes from a tyrant He used, to turn great oppression into ultimate good.
 Young nurturers of Deity stood silent that night and Mary pondered with wonder at the sight of her child. Only the Director knew for sure how the babe in the trough would restore all who loved Him  again to Himself.
Supporting characters provided; elements of surprise supplied. The angels all aglow worshiped the infant with gladness, but their chorus so splendid caused lonely shepherds to quake. Creation had commenced its celebration with zeal; even the stars sang their praises for the birth of the Child.

 Lowly caretakers of sheep played their part in the dark; carefully selected to first come and adore the small  King.  Discarded, shabby field crew felt at home in the barn; perhaps, the same way He calls each of us home.
The faithful, the poor, the forgotten chosen, but the Plan could not end without an invitation to all.
God cast some wise seekers, not accustomed to the Law, though they knew that a ruler would rise from His children. They followed a Star that took them afar until it reached a small house where the family called home. Were the Magi confused at the child's meek surroundings as they laid down their props or did they know without question they were offering gifts to the One?
First act completed; the audience all present.
The curtain reopens with a finale so grand, a work of redemption revealed for us all.