Stepping through the door at home Jesus surveyed the scene before him—the young ones playing on the floor, his little sister placing the bread, cheese, and olives on the table, and Mother, bustling around finishing the preparation of the evening meal. He watched Mary move gracefully from task to task—normally he’d appreciate the scene but tonight his head swarmed with questions.
Everything looked different now, now that he knew. It had hit him like a bolt of lightning earlier today on the hillside as he worked with the sheep. Normally he’d have been in the shop working with Joseph on the projects they’d been commissioned to do—the wedding trunk, the chair repair, the jewelry box, and all the little projects they needed to finish to tie up the loose ends before the Sabbath.
However, today James had been too sick to tend the sheep so Joseph had sent Jesus to take his place on the hillside. Not that Jesus minded, he loved these rare days in the fields with the sheep, though come midafternoon the sun did get hot. Yet the heat was more than made up for by the exhilarating freedom of a whole day to himself—eating out in the open air, playing with the lambs, and best of all, time to pray and worship. He especially loved having the time to think, for there was a lot to think about—the Scriptures, the revelations, the things that Yahweh showed him, told him. Everything around him whispered Yahweh’s name, showed Yahweh’s touch, sang Yahweh’s praise, and when Jesus was out on the hillside he was a part of it all—his spirit, body, and soul breathing, singing, and moving in Yahweh’s breath. He often thought of David’s life before he became king, a kindred spirit who also tended sheep.
Today he had needed time to think more than ever before, because as he wandered around the field keeping his eyes on the young and the strays, he began a conversation that had gone like this:
“Yahweh, why am I so different? Why can’t I fit in? How is it that the Scriptures are so real to me, so fascinating, so alive? Why do I see the Scriptures in different ways and with different revelations, while others seem to only see them the exact same way they’ve always seen them? How is it that I experience you so close and real, so clear and touchable, yet others perceive you as distant, judgmental, and dangerous? I’m different, why?
What is it that causes me to be consumed by you? Your words in the Scriptures dance before me in living color, as if I’ve lived them all before. I eat your words like honey—like they’re bone and marrow in me. I am fascinated by your voice, mesmerized by seeing your face across every scroll. As I read them light and knowledge flow through me in revelation after revelation.
And you, Yahweh, Spirit of My Spirit, Life of My Life, Essence of My Essence—how can I be so all-consumed by you? As if I could reach out and touch you—as if turning quick enough I’d see you there—even more, as if your very life itself, your very Being fills me inside. Words are unnecessary; our communion is Spirit to Spirit. As you sense my every thought and feeling, so I sense yours—your heart, your desires, your will. I feel a unity, a Oneness with you – so that whatever I say or do, it’s as if you are in me.
Yahweh—I seem to be the only one … I don’t understand … unless … oh no! Surely not me? No … it can’t be me, not me! … “out of Bethlehem” … “of the lineage of David” … There’s no way! How? The Messiah, God? The Messiah? But they say he’ll come to rescue us from the Romans, that he’ll …
No, I’ve always known it wouldn’t be like that, that wasn’t what you had in mind, but I never thought … that is, me? But what do I do? How do I be the Messiah? I’m just a carpenter, what kind of Messiah is that?
You’re right, not the one they’re all looking for. Boy are they going to be surprised! I’m not exactly what I was looking for either.
Wait, what about this “born of a virgin” thing, I do have a father you know. You? But Joseph … okay, I’ll ask Mother.
Wow, no wonder I’m different, that I never fit in. I knew we were close, but … Father? Wow! There are a lot of prophecies about the Messi … I mean me … this isn’t going to be any fun, is it?”
And in the midst of his thoughts, his worship, his listening and praying and singing—he knew. He knew the truth, he knew it with every fiber of his being—HIM! HE was the Messiah, he was born for this, HE WAS THE MESSIAH!
The rest of the afternoon had passed in a daze of glory, terror, and questions. Of incredulity, denial, disbelief, and finally, acceptance. “I am the Messiah.” He kept repeating it, as if that would help it sink in, make it feel real. Of course, it all made sense now. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t have intimate communion with Yahweh—the closeness, understanding, and hearing. Others couldn’t figure him out, didn’t seem to relate to what he felt for and with Yahweh. Sure they liked him, he was popular and invited to all the dances and get-togethers and functions of life around him and he enjoyed it, though there was a part of him that never really fit in, that would rather be out on the hillside communing with Yahweh. Now he understood why.
Too stunned to be able to think clearly, he began to doubt himself. It was ludicrous, self-aggrandizing, sacrilege to even think it. The sun must have gotten to him, and looking up he realized it was getting late and he needed to head home. Even as his mind flew through the Scriptures, assessing, questioning, and searching, habit took over as he rounded up the sheep and headed back down the hillside towards home. In spite of his distracted thoughts he made it through the routine of counting the sheep and getting them safely into the fold for the night. Walking in a daze, he wondered how he could be stunned with amazement and still notice how hungry he was. As much as his mind dwelt on the spiritual it always surprised him how quickly the physical could pull him back to everyday life.
Opening the door to the house Jesus stepped into the dim interior, appreciating the shadowy coolness on his skin. Tonight was no different from every other evening—the same sights, sounds, and smells, yet at the same time everything was different. After that one, illuminating moment he would never see things the same again. Now everything teemed with life and color as questions buzzed over him like they had over the dead rabbit he’d seen earlier today.
Mary glanced up smiling as he came in, then went back to tending the little one, but as he stood quietly taking in the scene she glanced over at him again and their eyes locked. Understanding dawned. “He knows,” she thought, “I see it on him, he knows.”
Mary turned back to the child and Jesus moved on into the room as his siblings welcomed him with mingled voices, all wanting to tell him something at once. “Hold on children,” Mary laughed, “give him time to wash up and we’ll sit down. Then you can tell him all you want to tell him.”
Joseph strode into the room after washing up, having arrived home later than usual from not having Jesus helping him. After Joseph’s prayer they ate, the same scenario they played out each night, except that tonight everything had changed. Mary and Jesus were attuned to each other as if they were the only ones in the room, sharing an awareness and connectedness apart from the others. Communicating without words, they patiently waited for their chance to be alone. Joseph paused his eating for a moment, looking from one to the other, understanding dawning on him. He caught Mary’s eye and they communicated in a way only a man and his wife can, heart to heart, and then he also knew. After the meal Jesus asked Mary if she would come for a walk with him, starting an uproar from the children to join them but Joseph distracted them by offering to give donkey rides on his back to the younger ones, thereby letting Mary and Jesus slip quietly away.
Walking in silence they turned onto the lesser-used path that rambled along a roundabout route where they’d be less likely to run into others. Mary waited for Jesus to speak first. Just when she was wondering if he was going to say anything Jesus spoke. “Mother.”
“Yes?” Normally they walked in a companionable silence but tonight Mary could tell that Jesus was wound tighter than a well rope. The silence stretched again, until Jesus spoke.
“Is it true?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you known?”
“From the beginning. It’s quite the story, it’ll take a while.”
“I’m listening.”
Mary told it all—from her engagement to Joseph to their current life. She talked of her own time to be filled with wonder, terror, and questions after the angel came. She covered the shepherds showing up at his birth, and then later kings arriving with gifts. She talked about the dangers of the escape to Egypt. She cried through telling of the massacre of babies, trying to find him. Then came the move to Nazareth after Herod died.
Time stood still as she talked but by the time she finished the sky was long dark. They’d finished walking and ended up sitting outside under the tree that held one end of the clothesline. Joseph had made Mary two stools to hold her heavy washtubs but they also worked well for sitting. Jesus was quiet, letting her talk except for occasional comments or exclamations of wonder.
“But I don’t see how … “ he burst out, “I don’t know why me. I don’t feel like the Messiah. I mean, how can I be him if I’m just living everyday life helping Father or watching sheep? That’s what everyone else does, not a Messiah!”
“You’re young still, Jesus, and I know that Yehweh will show you what to do when the time comes, until then you just do what you normally do, to the best of your ability. I’m sure the day will come when things will change, but you’ll know that day when it comes.”
“Everything makes so much more sense now,” Jesus said. I’ve struggled so much with why I’m different, why I’m so fascinated by the Scriptures, why I seem to have so much insight, such a connection to Yahweh.” His voice filled with wonder. “But his son? I can’t wrap my head around that, yet on the other hand, I hate to keep repeating this, but it makes so much sense now!”
They both stood and began walking toward the house. “Joseph has loved you as his own son,” Mary said, “you know that, but he isn’t your biological father.”
“What an amazing man,” Jesus exclaimed, “who can be all he’s been to me and yet he knows, he believed you, and he’s loved me and never shown me anything other than unconditional love as his own son.”
“Oh, he knows,” Mary assured Jesus. “He’s been right beside me through all of this, in fact, he knows that you know.”
“He can’t,” Jesus said, “You’re the first one I’ve told.”
“He saw it on you at supper, it was obvious to both of us when you walked in the door.”
They walked quietly for a few minutes, both lost in thought.
“I’m all questions,” Jesus laughed, “and at the same time I’m filled with wonder, with excitement, with such a strong desire to go running into my Father’s arms and embrace all that I am and all that he is. So, where do I go from here?”
From then until he was thirty Jesus simply experienced life on planet earth. On the physical side, he lived as a human in a fallen body: mosquito bites that itched, hands that got calluses, and bone-weary nights on a hard ground. He learned to deal with bitterness, temptation, relatives and friends, love and hate, frustration and impatience, sin, sickness, and death. At the same time, he learned of life’s pleasures, like joy and laughter, good food and fellowship, holding babies, and what money can do for you and your life. Spiritually he learned to be the Messiah, to understand God and to obey, follow, and trust him. He was taught knowledge of God and his Scriptures, and to receive revelation after revelation until he lived, breathed, and moved in tune with God. He gained confidence in himself, his messiahship, and in what his Father wanted. And then the day came when, at thirty, he headed for the Jordan.
It had begun – a visible God.