Have you ever been re-reading your favorite book and discovered a brand new line of content? Not that the words weren't there before - just that you hadn't seen or absorbed them. That's what happened to me recently while reading my Bible.
"People thought that Jesus was Joseph's son." ~ Luke 3:23 (NCV)
When you read that phrase, it makes perfect sense. Joseph was there when Jesus was born, and certainly played the role of earthly father to Jesus. Short of a DNA test, why would anyone suspect otherwise?
What's interesting to me is how Jesus responded to this popular belief. He didn't wear a t-shirt captioned "<------ He's not my dad!" Jesus didn't announce at the beginning of every sermon that he was raised by a step-father. Nor did He post signs or pay the media to clarify who He was. Jesus allowed people to learn the truth behind His identity by drawing near to Him, and by listening to His teachings.
So how do I compare? When someone makes assumptions about me or my life based on a passing glance, how do I respond? Do I deal harshly with them with glaring eyes and sharp words? Do I post on social media about it? Do I invest energy in turning my friends against my assessors? Or do I invite them to come close and hear my heart?
I'm afraid I've been guilty of reactingrather than responding. I take flight rather than invite. And, to be bravely honest, I probably induce more judgment upon myself with my resistance.
Some people will tell you I scare easily. Others will tell you I am highly critical of how men treat their lady of choice. Still others will tell you that I am too selective with whom I accept as friends on social media. If I allowed you to linger and hear my story, you would know all of those things are both true and related: it's part of surviving domestic abuse and abandonment.
Some will meet me only in passing through business transactions, and will label me as a difficult customer. Those who know me will tell you it's a combination of my desire to be a good steward of my money, the knowledge I have gained through my work in Warranty, and my passion to blaze a trail for those who come behind me.
Professionals who worked with my older children would tell you I was a strict disciplinarian. One woman once told me my children were too well-mannered - likely out of fear, she assesed. Professionals who work with my 7-yr-old today will tell you that they rarely see me be serious with him, and that he is somewhat indulged. Listening to the opinions of the passers-by would confuse you, but step into my home. See the photos of a beautiful girl who took a piece of my heart with her and forever changed how I parent.
Some who have known me all my life question my relationships with family. Only those who walk with me will see how hard I try, how consistently I am rejected, and how much it costs me to keep trying. This past week has been one of the most hurtful in years, and I considered using social media to set the record straight again. And then I read the Scripture verse I shared earlier: "People thought..."
Only when the crowds paused to hear Jesus teach did they learn, "If you have seen Me, you have seen my Father. I and my Father are one." Only those who remained at the Crucifixion heard Jesus call out "Father! Why have you forsaken me?" And even Joseph knew, this child came with DNA and destiny far greater than what people thought.
So I extend a peaxe offering. I'm not here to argue with what you think of me; I'm here to invite you in. Come to my table - at home, at the coffee shop, or at the local pizzeria. I'm inviting you into my arms - at church, at the office, or at the grocery store. Let's throw away the labels that keep us from hearing each other's hearts. Let's not be people who thought, but rather people who taught ... love and compassion.
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