Joseph, Jesus’ Dad

There's a line in Mercy Me's song "Joseph's Lullaby" that grabbed me tonight. The song, as its title communicates, is written as if Joseph was singing a lullaby to his infant son, Jesus. The scene of the song takes place sometime shortly after Jesus is born—perhaps the very night Mary gave birth. And Joseph sings:

"You have a long road before you—rest your little head."

The long road before you. That part of the line struck me. I feel like that a lot—like the road ahead of me is long. I started to think of the road that is set before me each day:

I am undisciplined. I let my appetite go unchecked too often, let my eyes linger too long, and let my spending run too far ahead of my paycheck. I am quick to judge, and rarely quick to listen. I get angry, and am a master at justifying it, spinning it to serve my own interests. And that's the short list.

These things litter the road that is set before me. I am who I am. This is the road I will travel, and these are the obstacles looming out ahead of me.

And God the Father sees this. Every day He sees this. He sees me walk this road and, as I come upon these obstacles, He sees me falter. In fact, He saw me walk and falter long before I even began to do it with my skin on. He saw that what I was going to do, if He didn't do something about it, was eventually going to lead to my death. My death—me being separated forever from the Life He Has. Me walking a road that leads away from him, toward my self-destruction.

And so he gave his Son a road to travel—an even longer road than mine:

"Walk his road, so that he can walk with Me on mine." That was the road that was set before Jesus: change me.

I think that changing someone—I mean, truly changing another person, permanently and for the better—is the single most difficult thing to do in this world. Think about it. Let's say your job is to spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 49 weeks per year (that's right… you get 3 weeks vacation!) with a gang member who has known the way of violence for as long as he can remember being alive. Your task is to change him into being a non-violent, legitimately-working citizen.

How would you do it? How long would you need? Could you stay with it, walking with him through the ups and downs, through the dangers and snares, all the while remaining an attractive and alternate option to the lifestyle he has grown so accustomed to? Would your mercy know no bounds as he returned to that lifestyle periodically despite showing some growth? Would the life that you produced in him, if you were successful, remain in him even apart from your physical presence? Would you be willing to count the daily cost necessary to change just one person's life?

Jesus was willing. I don't know how he was able, but he was, and he is. And he walks my long road with me even today.