Being a father is not easy.
There's no instruction manual. There's no guidebook. Each child is so very different, so unique. And each experience we pass through is the very first time in all of history that it has ever happened.
So imagine being the father of Christ...
That's the premise of today's Carol. It's from the Forgotten Carols by Michael McLean. I like Michael McLean, and I particularly enjoy these songs at this season. I was first introduced to them by a good friend in college before my mission (thanks, Sara!), and I've enjoyed them ever since.
The lyrics of this Carol are so sweet. Fathers do not have it easy - much is demanded of them, both inside the family and out. And there are times of frustration, misgivings, and temptation that are almost too much to handle. Wrapped around it all is the concern that I am not good enough - that I am not worthy to handle this kind of thing. My own children are two of the most amazing people I've ever known - so talented, beautiful, and impressive.
So the line - Jesus found the tender moments to let him (Joseph) know he'd done just fine - just makes me weep. My children let me know this, too. Maybe not verbally, but by the fact that they want to be near me, want to spend time with me, and emulate what I do (which is mostly not too bad...). Nothing makes me feel more successful, nothing makes me feel more like a man, nothing brings me greater joy, than to see my children growing in righteousness.
Lyrics:
He was working late one evening
With the wood he knew so well
When she thought
she recognized him
Though at first,
She really couldn't tell
As she humbly begged his pardon
A strange sadness swelled inside
When she asked,
"aren't you the father
Of that man they crucified?"
Then the carpenter repeated
What he's said so many times
He said, "I as not His father,
He was mine."
Then he humbly went on working
With those worn
and caloused hands
Though she did not ask
more questions
He knew she didn't understand.
So he asked if she would help him
And he saw her answer
in a glance
She did all the chores
he asked her
She was so grateful for the chance
Then they talked for hours of Jesus
And how he knew He was divine
He said "I was not His father,
He was mine.
For how could one
So foolish and so flawed
Ever hope to raise
the Son of God?"
Then he spoke
of the misgivings
That he had had
a thousand times
And how Jesus found
the tender moments
To let him know
He had done just fine
And then the carpenter recited
The greatest truths
he'd ever learned
And testified
they all came form Jesus
And then her heart
within her burned
They embraced as she departed,
And Joseph told her one more time,
"Tell them I was not His father
Tell them He was mine
No, I was not His father,
He is mine."
With the wood he knew so well
When she thought
she recognized him
Though at first,
She really couldn't tell
As she humbly begged his pardon
A strange sadness swelled inside
When she asked,
"aren't you the father
Of that man they crucified?"
Then the carpenter repeated
What he's said so many times
He said, "I as not His father,
He was mine."
Then he humbly went on working
With those worn
and caloused hands
Though she did not ask
more questions
He knew she didn't understand.
So he asked if she would help him
And he saw her answer
in a glance
She did all the chores
he asked her
She was so grateful for the chance
Then they talked for hours of Jesus
And how he knew He was divine
He said "I was not His father,
He was mine.
For how could one
So foolish and so flawed
Ever hope to raise
the Son of God?"
Then he spoke
of the misgivings
That he had had
a thousand times
And how Jesus found
the tender moments
To let him know
He had done just fine
And then the carpenter recited
The greatest truths
he'd ever learned
And testified
they all came form Jesus
And then her heart
within her burned
They embraced as she departed,
And Joseph told her one more time,
"Tell them I was not His father
Tell them He was mine
No, I was not His father,
He is mine."
Comments
Dad does a fine job. As do you, Joy!
I hope I do as sufficient a job. That's what I pray for every day, at least...
As the song goes - how could one so foolish and so flawed ever hope to raise (any) son (or daughter) of God... Well, we just do the best we can, don't we? Repent each day and try the next day to do better...
Thanks for the comment, Joy. I was beginning to wonder if there was anyone left out there... :-)