Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Casting a sidelong glance at his brand-new wife, Joseph released a silent sigh followed by a fervent prayer. He hoped he had made the right decision. Hoped he was doing the right thing. Hoped she’d be faithful. Hoped she appreciated the fact he hadn’t cast her aside. He could have. No one would have advised him differently. Everyone he knew would have been in his corner. It had actually been his plan. Until the dream. 

Lying on his bed, wrestling with the idea of a prematurely pregnant fiancee, Joseph mentally sorted his options until he reached a final, tolerable conclusion. It still sat poorly in the pit of his stomach. He wished there were other viable options. There weren’t. He’d have to do it. He would quietly disentangle himself from Mary and her illegitimate child. He couldn’t think of a better choice. Separate paths were the best option. For both of them. They couldn’t build a relationship without trust, a foundational brick blown entirely away with the stunning news of her impending motherhood. Yes, the dissolution of their relationship was the best choice. It would save them both at least a modicum of embarrassment. But only a bit. He felt like a fool. A dolt. An idiot. He’d trusted her. Believed she was as invested in this relationship as he was. It had been such an immense insult to realize she hadn’t been. Couldn’t have been since she found herself in such a state. Punching his pillow, Joseph rolled to face the wall. His decision was made. He wouldn’t be part of it. Wouldn’t be the surrogate father to a child who bore the blood and resemblance of an interloper. He didn’t have to. Chose not to. Until that dream. 

Most men would have shaken away the dream the moment they awoke from slumber. Cast it aside as unimportant. Weighed it against the traditions and practices of the day and found it wanting. Joseph wasn’t most men. His idea of how the Messiah would come differed from his peers. Where they were certain the promised Messiah would be a full-grown warrior who rode to their rescue with amazing power and strength, Joseph couldn’t shake the words of the prophet Isaiah echoing down through history. A virgin would bear a Son. She would call Him Immanuel. Joseph didn’t know how such a thing could happen. He had no inkling when it would occur. But he hoped he’d be there to see it. Not the birth necessarily. He didn’t need to witness that. He only wanted to see the child. Meet the man. Hear Him speak. Shake His hand. Yet no matter how great his hope that the Messiah would come in his lifetime to a village near him, it was beyond Joseph’s wildest imaginations to think or believe he could ever be part of God’s plan. No. His feet weren’t floating on clouds of dreams. They were firmly planted in reality. In the time and space that was real and true, tangible and possible. At least they had been. Until the dream. (Isaiah 7:14)

If the dream was simply the result of overwrought emotions and a handful of dodgy mushrooms with his dinner, he’d be hugely disappointed. It felt so legitimate. The vision so clear it seemed he could simply reach out and touch the glowing robe of the visiting angel. The words were well enunciated. His name called out with perfect articulation. His initial emotions both revealed and rebuked in the opening statement. “Joseph, do not be afraid.” Don’t let the recent circumstances in your life disconcert you. Don’t be concerned about taking Mary as your wife. Don’t question her allegiance. Don’t fret about the child she carries. Don’t worry about how this will all play out. Take Mary as your wife. Name the child Jesus. He is the Son of God. He will save His people, your people, all people from their sins. 

Awakening in the semi-darkness of the predawn hours, Joseph allowed himself the luxury of believing the dream. Changing his decision about keeping Mary. Letting his mind wander to what it would be like to be the surrogate father of God’s Son. Then daylight broke through his euphoric haze. Surrounded by sunshine and reality, the dream seemed a little less real. Joseph wrestled with himself. Should he do it? Should he not? Should he believe the dream? Should he shake it off? What if the child, when it came, was a girl? Then he’d be the greatest fool to walk the earth. A laughingstock. A proven dunderhead. But. What if it was true? What if it was all true? What if every single word was God-breathed? What if he, humble Joseph the simple carpenter, had just received an invitation to be part of the grand event they’d spent the last four centuries awaiting? What if faith would soon become sight? What if his hope was about to materialize? It was an offer he couldn’t refuse. (Matthew 1:18-25)

Four hundred years prior, the scratching of the final prophet’s pen on parchment had silenced. All Israel had waited expectantly, believing their Savior would come in a timely manner, riding in on a glistening stallion in triumphant victory. It hadn’t happened. Generation had passed the prophecy down to generation. Parent to child. Teacher to student. Priest to parishioner. They’d been lifetimes hearing it, teaching it, talking about it, watching for it. Nothing had happened. No great warrior had ridden in to rescue them. None had arisen from among them. Many were silently questioning the promise. Thought the prophets had misunderstood. Decided they were on their own. Believed they’d never be anything more than pawns in the grand scheme of other kings and kingdoms. Faith waned. Hope died. Despair darkened hearts. And Joseph had a dream. 

It brought him to this place. Walking down the road toward his home. His new bride keeping pace beside him. Neither spoke. There was nothing to say. What do you say to your unexpectedly expecting bride? What can you say to the man who sacrificed himself to save your reputation and house your unplanned child? Nothing. There were no words. Only hopeful obedience resounded with every footfall. It was the basis of his decision. Hope. It had to be. Hope the dream was real. Hope the child was the Messiah. Hope their relationship could come back from this strange turn of events. Hope was the driving force behind Joseph’s decision. Hope in God. Hope that what He had promised He would unequivocally do. Hope that the promised Messiah was currently on the way to save humanity from their mountainous heap of sins. Hope that stirred Joseph to action.   

Called to be emissaries of God in a world that has so clearly lost hope in His promises, I  find myself wishing we had hope like Joseph. Active hope. Hope for the world that sends us out of our comfort zones to spread the Gospel, speak words of truth on the ballfield, in the office, on the subway. Hope in the promises of God that cries out for revival, restoration, renewal in our churches, our homes, our communities. Hope in the God who answers prayer that brings us to our knees again and again as we wage wars against the powers of darkness that inhabit this world. Eternal hope that doesn’t count the cost, personal or financial, when God calls us to action. Selfless, obedient hope in the promises of God that will never disappoint. (Romans 5:5; Psalm 80:19, 85:6; Habakkuk 3:2; Ephesians 6:12-20; II Corinthians 10:4-5)

As you read the news, hear the conversations, feel the hopelessness that saturates our society, know this. God is still busy fulfilling every last word of every single promise He ever made. And He wants you to be part of it. Wherever you are, whomever you are, whatever your talents or abilities, God is calling you to do something. So pay attention. He may speak through a dream. He may speak through a sermon. He may speak in a still small voice. But He will speak. Is probably already speaking. Inviting you to be part of the fulfillment of His grand plan for humanity. The part of His plan He’s enacting right now. So. How strong is your hope in His promise? Is your hope in God, your faith in His promise strong enough to result in unquestioning obedience? Do you possess hope like Joseph, hope in God that will never disappoint? (I Kings 19:11-13; Hebrews 11:1; Romans 12:12; Romans 8:24-25; Psalm 130:5)