A God Who Grows

Luke 2:41-52

41 Now every year his parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover. 42 And when he was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival. 43 When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. 44 Assuming that he was in the group of travelers, they went a day’s journey. Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends. 45 When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him. 46 After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. 47 And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. 48 When his parents[a] saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.” 49 He said to them, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”[b] 50 But they did not understand what he said to them. 51 Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart.

52 And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years,[c] and in divine and human favor.

“Young Jesus in the Temple” by Jean-Baptiste Bottex

As a mom, I can easily see myself in the place of Mary and Joseph in this story. I can easily envision going about an annual tradition with a dear and familiar community, where we share a kinship to one another and our children and so even if I cannot see them, I can assume my child is being cared for somewhere in the arms of an auntie or cousin or friend.  Jesus is no longer a toddler who must be watched constantly watched so they doesn’t put crayons in their mouth or reach for something too sharp. They are not yet considered an adult with all its trusts and responsibilities, as they will be at age 13. There is this threshold between, a tween Jesus, who is capable of more independence that often surprises parents and causes us both exasperation and relief, life-threatening heart palpitations and a strange pride as it unfolds.

I can also relate to this young person, trying on various aspects of identity like hats to find what feels true for us, seeking out somewhere a bit farther from the influence/bias/control of others’ expectations. It is at once thrilling and terrifying. Amidst the hope and fear, rough drafts and sketches of self, you come across something that is completely novel and yet also feels like it was already a part of yourself, being both surprised and affirmed in this discovery.  It’s as in those moments when you’re reading a book about someone or somewhere else and then suddenly you see your own reflection there, sometimes directly, sometimes cast in relief, or at an angle…revealed by the space the story makes. Somehow there are finally words, an image, something tangible for what you’ve felt within but never knew how to express.  I wonder if Jesus was as surprised as their family when the words rolled off their tongue.

I am both, parent and child among other things, and still unfolding within each identity, still learning what it looks like and means. And apparently …the divine is here too.

We are entering further into the Gospel of Luke and in this Gospel. While there are still informed shepherds and insightful prophets, there are no magi or wise ones from afar that come with enlightening gifts that point to Christ’s future. As we mark this time of Epiphany, it is with less fanfare and more ordinary revelation.  “Epiphany” is “a sudden, intuitive perception or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.” It is both like a lightbulb that comes on to illuminate and give meaning to the shapes that were already there, but also a doorway that connects where we’ve been and where we’re going. It opens onto new ways of being in all places that we either missed or seemed too daunting before.

On this Sunday where we mark Epiphany, we are offered insight into the reality and essential meaning of the divine in a simple experience.  A young Jesus sits in sacred places with others to ask questions, to listen and learn. Likely, our picture of Jesus is more often in the role of teacher on mountainside or lakeshore, casting their already-refined wisdom to the masses. But here, there is also wisdom and understanding shown in continued wondering and reflection.  Here God is also a learner, someone with room to grow and not made lesser for it. On this 9th day of Christmas, what is revealed is not only the presence of God, but also the nature of God – communal, relational, reciprocal, and curious….both within and beyond time.

Even God’s very self is one of unfolding. God is the beginning and the end, but also to be found in the in-between – somewhere in between innocent infancy and convicted rebel.  So much of our life, too, happens between the pinnacles, the resolutions, the farmable snapshots, and the annual newsletters. This doesn’t mean these moments don’t matter or matter less. These in-between places form and shape how we connect to and understand the whole of the story, of ourselves, and of God with us throughout.

Christendom has long celebrated Jesus’ divinity, the complete beyond-ness of God. But this is a season to ponder and treasure God’s humanity - the messiness, the imperfection, the vulnerability of God – and what happens when the things we’ve been told make us less than are indeed inhabited by the Great I Am. In a season where we are told to set ourselves toward being better, or more, or to chase down happiness and success and wrestle it to the ground….God who is goodness is learning to be. This “be”ing is not resigned or stagnant; it is still making choices and moving, but is into depth and fullness of themselves. There’s nothing wrong with goals or setting intentions, but perhaps equally important is reflection on why or in what direction does this serve to move me. Sometimes we don’t have an answer for that, but it stirs up a pondering in our heart that moves us in its own way over time.

We have arrived here, to his place and moment, to wonder and celebrate and follow a God who grows…before us, within us, and beyond us. Amen.

I invite you to meditate, start a conversation with others, or write in a journal:

Where do you see yourself in this story?

What did you notice or learn about the essential reality of your sacred self in this past year?

Who is in your community that helps you to wonder and reflect and grow in divine fullness? How can you strengthen this community and these practices?

How are you walking alongside another as they wonder, and wrestle, and discover their sacred wholeness?