Family Stories

Luke 2:51,52
...But his mother treasured all these things in her heart. And Jesus grew in Wisdom and Stature and in Favor with God and men.

My mother's pregnancy with me, was the worst out of the three. She was sick the entire time and went into premature labor in the 7th month. Her labor began at my grandmother's house when Johnny Carson was getting ready to start (for those of you who don't remember Johnny Carson, he came on at 11:30 pm). My grandmother thought it was a false alarm because it was to soon. But before long, she found herself racing down Thirty-one, blaring her horn, with my mom hanging her head out the window, screaming. By the way, it was the absolute worst, most insane pain anyone has ever experienced, ever. I was born at 12:55am.

There's more to the story. Accounts from family and friends who were a part of my mom's life during her pregnancy with me, Accounts about the weeks I spent in an incubator and how small I was when I finally came home. Accounts of first words, first steps, projectile vomiting, and some crazy (usually naked) escapades as a toddler. The story of my birth and childhood is remembered in the accounts of others.

The story of Jesus' birth and childhood, in the first two chapters of Luke, reminds me of these family stories. It begins with the conception of John the Baptist and ends with a precocious 12 year old in a temple. And while verse after verse could be singled out and examined with awe, read in it's entirety...there is a rhythm and whisper of something mind-blowing.

As I read it, I feel myself drawn in, as if I'm sitting around the living room at Thanksgiving, full and sleepy, with family and friends who are laughing and telling stories.

Do you remember when.....?

Something stirs under the peaceful tranquility of this safe, comfortable, familiar place. My heart beats a little faster, and I take in accounts of angels and visions, shepherds and kings, prophets and wise men. What really takes my breath away, is not how fantastic it all is, but the image of a boy.

A young dark-haired, barefoot boy, around the age of 8 or 10, sitting cross-legged on the floor, full and sleepy, among his family and friends laughing and joking, and someone says....Do you remember when....?

What would it be like to be told our own story and have it include things like...
Do you remember when the angel came? Wasn't it a hoot when Elizabeth got pregnant? Zechariah couldn't believe it! Remember the shepherds and gifts from the wise men? How about running from that evil king?...Do you remember the Star?

or...

"He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David, and He will reign over the House of Jacob forever; His kingdom will never end."
Luke 1:32,33

What would it have been like for this boy who was given a true vision of who God created him to be? Who was told that long before he was conceived or born, he was alive in the mind of God, the entire earth was waiting for him.

I am moved beyond words, stunned by the magnitude, not only of who Jesus is, but something more. There's more to the story. It's my part of the story. It is me...at the foot of the cross. It is me...born of God into a family of saints. It is me...resting in the company of loved ones who are whispering my story....God knew you before you were born, You were born with a purpose, You were meant for greatness...Remember who you are.

The creation waits in eager expectation for the Sons of God to be revealed.
Romans 8:19