Matthew 1:18-25
Joseph’s Story
My mother and father raised me to be a good man, a just man, a righteous man. I loved God and followed his law to the utmost. I memorized scripture. I studied Torah at synagogue. I sought to treat people honorably. As I grew up, my dad taught me how to be a carpenter, something one day I would do for my own sons. My dad also taught me the values of hard work and a good name. He said, “Son, love God, obey his law, and treat people the way you would like to be treated. If you do those things, you will have lived well.”
Mary was very special to me. She was not only beautiful, but she had a beautiful spirit as well. I could tell she loved God as much as I did. I was quite happy to be engaged to her. We were excited to enter the special year-long period our people called a betrothal. We dreamed of getting married at the end and of having a house full of children. Mary was pledged to me and me alone, and I felt so blessed to know she would be mine and I would be hers someday soon.
And then I got the news: Mary was pregnant. How could this be? I couldn’t believe it at first. I suppose today you would say I went through the stages of grief. Initially I was in shock and disbelief. How could Mary be pregnant? Impossible! She was not one to flirt with men. She took her vows seriously. She knew she was pledged to me and me alone. I certainly didn’t see any other men cross her path. Like all Jewish girls, she was closely guarded with chaperones during our engagement.
But the shock became replaced with anger. We lived in a culture full of pride and shame, and I knew these events would bring great shame for her, and now for me if I didn’t act quickly. I could call her out publicly. That way, I could keep her father’s dowry. She might even be stoned to death for her infidelity. I know today that sounds harsh, but God gave our ancestors this sentence to protect us from ourselves, to keep people faithful to marriage and help our society grow stronger (Deuteronomy 22:23-24). As harsh as it was, Mary certainly deserved it. She had sinned, and she knew sin carries consequences. She knew that when she betrayed me.
My anger quickly gave away to sadness and compassion. Law vs. love, and love won out, of course. As I prayed, I knew I couldn’t hurt Mary. Even though I was hurt and disappointed, I still loved her and wanted the best for her. I would simply divorce her quietly. Yes, in our day, to break an engagement, you had to get a divorce. That’s how serious a betrothal was. With a quiet divorce involving only a couple of witnesses, we could both ride out the gossip until it blew over, especially if the father of her baby did the right thing and married her. Personally, I wanted no part of it. I knew God called me to be righteous, to follow his law as closely as I could. With this kind of divorce, I could honor both God and Mary.
Then came the dream. While I don’t remember all my dreams, this one I would never forget. The main character was an angel of the Lord. He spoke with such majesty and authority; it was clear who he represented. He explained to me in the dream that this baby was fathered by none other than the Holy Spirit himself! We Jews liked to recount how God’s Spirit worked in the lives of special people in historic times to bring about God’s will. We knew the stories of David, of Samuel, of Deborah, the prophets and kings of old, those heroes of faith who were filled with the Holy Spirit for God’s work on earth.
And now this same Holy Spirit had fathered a baby within Mary’s womb. Unbelievable! Something no one had ever seen, and I’m guessing no one will ever see again! The angel told me not to be afraid but to take Mary home to be my wife. The angel also told me what to name the baby. It wouldn’t be one of our family names, as was the custom, but it would be the common name “Jesus,” which simply means, “God saves.” The angel explained that this baby would save the people from their sins.
I recognized immediately the angel’s reference to our long-awaited Messiah, or Christ as the Greeks pronounced it. The prophet Isaiah some 700 years earlier had written of a virgin who would have a baby that would become a “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6). Isaiah had written also of a suffering servant who would give his life for his people. Several other prophets had described this Messiah who would come and bring deliverance. And boy did we need deliverance! We had been under Roman occupation for so long that people no longer remembered the taste of freedom. For 400 years, the heavens had been silent, with no prophetic word from God. We all longed for this Messiah to come.
And now the angel was saying, “Here he is, Immanuel, God with us.” And to be born through my Mary! What great news! Mary hadn’t cheated on me after all! God had honored her as his faithful servant. And now God was pulling me into his holy work, having me care for the mother of the Messiah, the Savior of the world.
Great news, right? But with epic consequences. I didn’t doubt for long. But for a moment, I wondered what this would cost me. You see, as I brought home Mary, her scandal would become my scandal. In a little town like Nazareth, everybody knows everybody else’s business. People would immediately suspect me to be the father of this illegitimate child. The reputation I had worked to build all of my life—a hardworking, honest, just, and righteous man of God—now would be tarnished forever! My lack of self-control would be the talk of the town. People would whisper whenever we passed by. We would be ostracized, treated as religiously impure, threatening to defile those who got too close. Some would no doubt take their carpentry needs elsewhere. They would say, “I thought he was righteous, but look at him now. Look at her now. God help them!”
For the first time in my life, I learned what it means to be truly righteous. Up to this point I thought it meant always following God’s law to the letter. Now I found out that sometimes it means following God even when I don’t understand it, even when it will cost me personally, even when it will cost my reputation, my honor, perhaps even my livelihood. I finally got it: righteousness is a gift from God. He bestows it on those who follow him, regardless of consequence.
I took Mary as my own, her shame now my shame. It didn’t matter as we knew we were serving God, and that came first. Even though we were entitled to consummate our marriage that day, I decided from the beginning we would not sleep together until she had birthed the Messiah. To do anything else would be to dishonor God’s planned virgin birth. And I wasn’t about to mess with that. This baby would be born without the taint of human sin in his blood.
Obedience comes at a cost, but it also brings great joy. What an honor that God would entrust me to protect mother and child, to provide for their needs, and to rescue them from danger. And oh, the sights we would see, the unexpected accommodations for the birth of a king, the surprise visitors—stinky shepherds—in the middle of the night, the later entertaining of dignitaries with gifts from afar, a second dream urging me to get my family to Egypt for safety, a flight in the night barely escaping destruction, and finally, following yet a third dream, a return to our hometown of Nazareth to raise this boy who would save the world.
I’m like a lot of dads in that I’m more behind the scenes than out in the limelight.
Step-parents in particular know what it’s like to serve without recognition, to do your best to raise someone else’s child. I sought to humbly serve alongside my dear wife, as we cared for this greatest of gifts, Immanuel, “God with us.” By the time our son began his public ministry, I would no longer be around to see it. But that’s okay. God confirmed for me over and over again the wisdom of following him, of putting his plan before my own, as I grew into the righteous man he called me to be.
BREAK
Thank you, Joseph, for sharing your story with us this morning. Folks, what about you? Have you exchanged your reputation for righteousness? Have you sold out to God? That’s what it means to become a Christian: to give your very self to the only one who can save you from sin and selfishness, to surrender your sin in exchange for forgiveness and a life of adventure and trial, but complete with great blessing as you follow the God who loves you so much. This Christmas please accept the greatest gift of all: a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. Let us pray:
God, we are so thankful for Mary and Joseph, these young people who chose you over themselves, who put your plans before their own. Help us to do the same, as we surrender our lives to Jesus, the baby in the manger who would grow up to be our Savior. In his name we pray, amen.
