Adopting a King

At Christmas time I am always reminded of the overwhelming love God has for us. That He would send his only son to the world in the lowliest of places and that that son would live among us, perfectly, and die as a sacrifice to pay for our sins.

Last year at Christmas I found myself focusing on Mary, the mother of Jesus. I wondered what it would be like to be so young and to be chosen to carry the Savior of the world. To be ridiculed as it seemed to others that she had conceived this baby out of wedlock. To make the journey to Bethlehem being so close to delivery. To deliver a baby in a stable surrounded by animals. I have always aspired to be the kind of woman Mary was. She was chosen by God for a great mission because of her faithfulness and obedience. I desire to have that kind of faith and bravery. But last year at this time I was not admiring Mary because of her faith.  I was admiring, or more accurately, envying her because she was about to have a little baby.

My desire for a child always heightened around holidays. I would picture my little one crawling to the beautifully wrapped packages with a curious look in their eye. I would dream about the joy he/she would bring to family as they shared this holiday for the first time. So, as I looked at pictures of the nativity or sang songs about the young virgin Mary I found myself full of desire to be a mother, to be just days from welcoming my little one as Mary was.

My son Ben was born just a few months after the holiday season last year. In fact, it was almost a month exactly after Christmas that we first learned of him and his selfless birth mother. So, this Christmas I am watching Ben, my little one, crawling to the beautifully wrapped packages with the cutest curious look in his gorgeous brown eyes. I am filled with joy as I watch family members pass him around and anticipate his reaction to his first holiday season.

But this year my focus is not on the expectant mother. It has turned to Joseph, the adoptive father.  I have always admired Joseph’s courage to stand up against society and stay with Mary when no one would have blamed him for taking action against her since they were betrothed and she was now expecting a child that was not his. He is a man of honor, courage, strength, and radical obedience. He is also an adoptive father. This part of Joseph’s life is often overlooked. Jesus was not his biological child yet he took him in as his own. Jesus had a biological (if you will) father, the Great I Am. But Joseph was the man that was called to father this child during his days on earth. Joseph changed diapers, fed him, burped him, and no doubt got up at odd hours of the night with him. He dealt with Jesus’ 2 year old moments, taught Jesus how to walk, talk, and when he grew older, the family business of carpentry.  Joseph was Jesus’ father in every way.

When Joseph looked at Jesus he did not see himself. He didn’t see a baby with his eyes or his nose. As Jesus grew Joseph didn’t see a boy that was shaping up to look just like him.  He saw a child, a boy that was given to him by the Heavenly Father. He saw promise, hope, and redemption. He was looking the very gospel in the face. He wiped the tears, bandaged the scrapes, and tickled the tummy of this beautiful child that, by the world’s standards, was not his own. While there is not much recorded in Scripture about the relationship between Joseph and his son Jesus I would venture to guess that Joseph loved him as his very own. I would imagine that in the moment that he first held Jesus before placing him in the manger that Joseph knew he would love this child with his whole heart and that the fact that he was not conceived from his own flesh and blood made no difference at all.

Today as I hold my son Ben I know how Joseph must have felt. When I look at Ben I don’t see my eyes or my nose, or in our case, my skin tone. I see a child, a boy that was given to him by the Heavenly Father. I see promise, hope, and redemption. I look the very gospel in the face as adopting a child into ones family is living out what Christ did for us, the good news, the gospel. I wipe the tears, bandage the scrapes, and tickle the tummy of a beautiful child that, by the world’s standards, is not my own. But much like Joseph, I love him as my very own. From the moment I first heard of him over the phone I knew this child was to be mine.  And in the moment I first held him in my arms just seconds after he was born I loved him with my whole heart and the fact that he was not conceived of my own flesh and blood made no difference at all. Most days I don’t even remember that I didn’t carry him for 9 months and deliver him. When people ask me, “is he adopted?” sometimes I answer, “oh yeah I guess he is.”

So, this Christmas season I remember the gift God gave me as He sent his son to this earth to live and die so that I could have a relationship with Him. I remember the gift that He gave Mary by choosing her to carry and mother Jesus as he grew. I remember the gift that He gave Joseph in calling him to adopt Jesus and be his father. I remember the gift He gave me when He placed the call on my life to be an adoptive parent and I will never forget the gift He gave me when He placed my precious baby boy in my arms on February 13, 2013. I’m blessed to share with Joseph, and so many others, the high calling of adoption.

I hope that during this Christmas season you will look at the nativity differently and that you will read the Christmas story with a fresh look. I hope that as you ponder and meditate on what the coming of the Christ child means for all of us that you will thank your Heavenly Father for adopting you into His family. Merry Christmas!