In "The Book of Jesus", edited by Calvin Miller, is a chapter written by Max Lucado, called, "Some Questions for Joseph." Max Lucado imagines some very supposable questions that any of us might like to ask. In this passage is seen the poetic and keen insight that has made Max Lucado's scholarship so important in our day.
" Knotholes and snapshots and "I wonders." You'll find them in every chapter about every person. But nothing stirs so many questions as does the birth of Christ! Characters appear and disappear before we can ask them anything. The innkeeper too busy to welcome God - did he ever learn who he turned away? The shepherds - did they ever hum the song the angels sang? The wise men who followed the star - what was it like to worship a Toddler? And Joseph, especially Joseph. I've got questions for Joseph.
Did you and Jesus arm wrestle? Did He ever let you win?
Did you look up from your prayers and see Jesus listening?
How do you say "Jesus" in Egyptian?
What ever happened to the wise men?
What ever happened to you?
But of all my questions, my first would be about Bethlehem. I’d like to know about the night in the stable. I can picture Joseph there. Moonlit pastures. Stars twinkle above. Bethlehem sparkles in the distance. There he is, pacing outside the stable.
What was he thinking while Jesus was being born? What was on his mind while Mary was giving birth? He'd done all he could do - heated the water, prepared a place for Mary to lie. He'd made Mary as comfortable as she could be in a barn and then stepped put. She'd asked to be alone, and Joseph was never felt more so.
In that eternity between his wife's dismissal and Jesus' arrival, what was he thinking? He walked into the night and looked into the stars. Did he pray?
For some reason, I don't see him silent; I see Joseph animated, pacing. Head shaking one minute, fist shaking the next. This isn't what he had in mind. I wonder what he said...
This isn't the way I planned it, God. Not at all. My child being born in a stable? This isn't the way I thought it would be. A cave with sheep and donkeys, hay and straw? My wife giving birth with only the stars to hear her pain?
This isn't at all what I imagined. No, I imagined family. I imagined grandmothers. I imagined neighbors clustered outside the door and friends standing at my side. I imagined the house erupting with the first cry of the infant. Slaps on the back. Loud laughter. Jubilation.
That's how I though it would be.
The midwife would hand me my child and the people would applaud. Mary would rest and we would celebrate. All of Nazareth would celebrate.
But now. Now look. Nazareth is a five-day journey away. And here we are in a ... in a sheep pasture. Who will celebrate with us? The sheep? The shepherds? The stars?
This doesn't seem right. What kind of husband am I? I provide no midwife to aid my wife. No bed to rest her back. Her pillow is a blanket from my donkey. My house for her is a shed of hay and straw...
Did I miss something? Did I, God?
When You sent the angel and spoke of the Son being born - this isn't what I pictured. I envisioned Jerusalem, the temple, the priests, and the people gathered to watch. A pageant perhaps. A parade. A banquet at least. I mean, this is the Messiah!
Or, if not born in Jerusalem, how about Nazareth? Wouldn't Nazareth have been better? At least there I have my house and my business. Out here, what do I have? A weary mule, a stack of firewood, and a pot of warm water. This is not the way I wanted it to be! This is not the way I wanted my son.
Oh my, I did it again. I did it again, didn't I Father? I don't mean to do that; it's just that I forget. He's not my Son...He's Yours.
The Child is Yours. The plan is Yours. The idea is Yours. And forgive me for asking but...is this how God enters the world? "
By George Konig
11/18/2007
www.georgekonig.org
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