Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Relief crowded out the panic and fear that had been her constant companions for the last few terrifying days. They had found Him! Finally! She would have sagged with the abatement of her worries had she not been consumed with righteous indignation. For days they had been searching to no avail. Her overactive imagination reeled with every mishap that could befall a 12-year-old boy alone in the city. They had accosted every person they met with myriad questions, offered a hundred descriptions, yet gained no results. Fellow travelers hadn’t seen Him. Innkeepers couldn’t place Him. Street vendors hadn’t fed Him. Shepherds didn’t recognize Him. Every shake of the head dented her hope. Every “No,” sagged her spirits. Every empty room, silent corner, lonely alley tore at her heart. No one had seen Him. It was almost as if her Son had completely disappeared. 

Sinking down in exhaustion, hopeless and helpless, Mary was ready to give up. Accept the inevitable. She had failed as a mother. Her Son was lost. Gone. Stolen. Sold. Or worse. Her heart wept tears her dry eyes couldn’t. Broken and forlorn, she looked up in surprise as someone approached. Was she the woman searching for a lost child? Had she checked the temple? Reports were circulating that an unfamiliar youth had been seen there speaking with the leaders, asking questions, making observations. Perhaps she should check the temple. 

Hope had her springing to her feet and racing toward the temple with Joseph. They made no effort to maintain their dignity. It was worth sacrificing if they could only find their Son. Bolting through the doors, they stopped short, chests heaving, lungs burning, hearts pounding from more than just the wild dash across town. There He was. Jesus. Their Son. Safe, clean, calm. Deeply engrossed in a discussion of the Scriptures with the teachers in the temple.  

Ignoring the unwelcoming men crowded around her Son, fascinated by His every word, Mary unceremoniously approached to pose some questions of her own. Eyes burning with motherly rebuke liberally laced with love and relief, she fired them off in rapid succession, “What are You doing here? Why didn’t you leave when we left? Do You know how worried we have been? Were you aware that we have spent the last few days searching for you, terrified out of our minds?” 

Silence fell over the group. Even grown men of intellect and authority dared not interrupt the conversation between the clearly distraught, disheveled woman and the pre-teen who was most certainly her child. Recent conversations with Him caused them to correctly assume He wouldn’t need their aid. He didn’t. Meeting her eyes in a straightforward manner far older than His years, her Son, that sweet little baby she’d birthed in a barn and laid in a manger twelve years ago, responded, “Why would you have looked anywhere else for Me? Did it not occur to you that I would be busy doing the work of my Father?” 

Had the words been clipped out in terse syllables, they would surely have come across as an insolent reprimand. Were His tone less than full of gentle respect, the response would have stung. It didn’t. The kind reminder of Who He was and why He was there smacked neither of rebuke or disrespect. It was simply a nudge to remember. Remember Who His Father really is. Remember why He came. Remember He was a Child with a mission, a calling, a job to do. No matter how much He loved and respected His earthly parents, His Heavenly Father’s plan would always come first. (Luke 2:41-51)

Mary must have needed the reminder. Twelve years had passed since His miraculous birth. Twelve normal years. Years of diapers and toilet training, feeding and clothing, tending and caring. As time passed, it had been easy to forget that Joseph wasn’t Jesus’ natural father. The family grew. Her tasks increased. At some point, the divine had gotten absorbed in the mundane. Between the cleaning and the cooking she’d forgotten, if only momentarily, that her Son was also God’s Son. Her hopes and dreams for Him would always be superseded by the Father’s plans. Her desire to keep Him close and safe would have to be sacrificed for the Father’s ultimate will. 

As they traveled home, their accidental runaway in tow, Mary pondered the exchange in the temple. Admittedly, her Son was right. She had forgotten. Maybe because she was busy. Maybe because she chose to. Maybe remembering the reason He came tied her stomach in knots, causing her overactive imagination to run away with her. Or maybe she’d forgotten because she couldn’t see her purpose once the raising of Jesus was ended. Who was she once He’d fulfilled His earthly mission? Who was she now that He seemed so capable of surviving, even thriving, in the world on His own? Had she so quickly been reduced to uselessness? Was God done with her or was there something more for her to do?

It must have been a significant relief for Mary to find her services were still necessary. There were still years of parenting left before Jesus would head out on His earthly ministry. Years of laundry and cleaning and cooking. Years of listening and talking and helping. Years during which Mary would surely realize that she too, was busy doing the business of the Father. The business of raising His Son. Even if the things she was doing were earthly and boring and mundane. Even if laundry and cleaning is monotonous and repetitive. Even when she couldn’t figure out what to cook for dinner or the schedule dictated she throw leftovers on the table. Every time Mary cared for her husband and children, every time she managed the duties that befell her, every time she helped deliver a baby for the neighbor, took soup to the sick, or shut a gate preventing someone’s sheep from escaping, Mary was doing her Father’s business. Because it is all God’s business. 

In Ecclesiastes 9:10, the self-proclaimed Preacher who penned the book, implores his readers to give themselves completely to whatever task is at hand. Small tasks. Large jobs. Unnoticed efforts. Obvious undertakings. Put your back into it. The Apostle Paul would later echo these sentiments in his letter to the Colossians, exhorting them to do everything earnestly, zealously, sincerely. His remarks remain unqualified. There are no parameters. Regardless of the task, who asks you to do it, or whether you will receive proper earthly gratitude for the service, put all your ability into it. You are working for God alone. Because it is all God’s business. (Ecclesiastes 9:10; Colossians 3:23)

Sometimes it is difficult to see God’s work in our labors. We tend not to see Him in the mountain of laundry, the unswept floor, the juice that just got spilled…again. It’s hard to see what He is doing around the pile of paperwork, the multitude of phone calls, the copious meetings that crowd our work schedule. And when the third child in as many days hits the couch with a runny nose and cough, we think God surely must appreciate those people who are unencumbered and able to actually do something for Him. In sadness, we shake our heads and wish it could be us doing what humanity has qualified as “God’s work.” Instead, we grab the mop, a box of tissues, the ringing telephone, and head off to tend our earthly responsibilities. And God, from His throne in the heavens, nods His head and smiles His approval. Because it is all God’s business. 

You see, friend, God’s business isn’t simply for missionaries, preachers, and Sunday class teachers. It is not only exciting and magnificent and public. It rarely entails glitz and glamour or engages the press. For most of us, God’s business is exactly what we are doing in the current season of our lives. The loving care we take of our families. The kindness we show our neighbors. The proper respect we give our intractable boss. The hands we reach out to help the poor, the widows, the orphans. The heart within that seeks to honor God by doing everything for His glory. It is through these mundane actions, the tasks we give barely a thought as we perform them day after day, that God is working. He speaks through your actions and reactions. He changes hearts through your prayers. He reaches people, sealed off from faith for decades, through your openness and kindness. Not because you preached a sermon in the breakroom. Not because you passed out religious booklets. Not because your signature block quotes a Bible verse. God reaches people through you because you remain faithful in the mundane. Your heart clearly knows what your head finds confusing. Great or small. It is all God’s business. 

Society puts such great worth on your status. They glorify those with the most views, the most followers, the biggest influence. In the current social atmosphere, it is so easy to feel superfluous, unnecessary, worthless unless you have your own platform, viewer base, or congregation. You aren’t. Whatever you are doing to raise your family, help others, or further the kingdom of God is important. Even if it is boring, repetitive, or normal. Even if it feels like you aren’t doing anything for Him. Even if nothing in your life qualifies you as being in “Christian service.” Trust me. You are. You are God’s laborer, a worker together with Him. So don’t quit. Keep working. Spread the love and grace and kindness of Jesus to everyone who sees you. May those looking on see your fervor, your tenacity, your sincerity and catch a glimpse of Your Father whose business you are most assuredly about.