It makes perfect sense that God would choose a carpenter to bring an earthly
legitimacy to a virgin with a scarlet letter. The pregnancy was for real just
as much as the baby it would yield. And even though common sense dictated leaving
her to solve her problems on her own, his character, his love for her, and his
submission to the God he worshipped dictated the opposite. It didn’t hurt
that God sent an angel to advise him. But people have turned their backs on greater
manifestations. There’s something about the unvarnished facts that cause
the average person to discount the supernatural.
But Joseph was a carpenter. The nature of his job was to overcome constant
obstacles, to move things from the complex to the simple, and to leave the situation
better than he found it. It was a trade that recruited the creative, the tenacious,
and the ingenious. It takes a carpenter to look at raw land and see a house.
It takes a carpenter to hear the expression, “No way,” and assume
it is an invitation to go get a toolbox. It takes a carpenter to look at blueprints
and see a family flourishing within its dimensions. It was an obedient and humble
carpenter who ignored the social price tag that came with teaming up with a teenaged
mother-to-be in order to provide that girl and her baby with a warm hearth, a
tender heart, and a loving home.
We don’t know a lot about Joseph. He wasn’t assigned many lines
in the Christmas play. His was more of a presence—a steady, quiet, utility
player that God singled out to be an eyewitness to His majesty. But he ended
up much more than that before it was all over. Like the gatekeeper or the watchman
on the wall, his job was to be there, hold his post, do his job well, and let
someone else get all the applause. He was to be faithful, diligent, and unflinching
in the face of all the challenges that came with marrying a pregnant virgin.
He had to be ready to innovate and take risks. Like in those fragile days just
after the delivery or during those frightening months when Herod’s goon
squad came looking for the boy. He had to keep measuring, cutting, leveling,
and pounding as the promised Messiah grew from a child to a man. And then, he
had to bow out and slip off the stage just as everything started getting really
interesting.
But he saw a lot before he left, and no doubt he played a key role by being
available when God came knocking at his door. We don’t know how complicated
his life was. It’s easy to get lured into thinking that it takes microchips
and email to turn life into a mach 3 blur. We tend to look on sleepy villages
like Nazareth as though they were some kind of ancient bed-and-breakfast—a
Norman Rockwell destination in bathrobes and sandals. But if you try just a little
harder, most imaginations can come to the quick reality that it had to be a challenge
having to raise the Creator of the universe and the Saviour of the world. Joseph
had to be as tough as the nails he drove and as determined as the grip they held
on the wood. It’s a carpenter thing. But he obviously rose to the occasion
and ultimately played his part well.
The nature of his work gives a carpenter a lot of quiet time to ponder and
reflect. And because of what he was called on to do, I’m glad Joseph was
a carpenter. Before it was all over, this boy would give him a lot to think about.
He had to wonder why the boy got such a kick out of a thunderstorm, or how he
could sleep so soundly when the wind howled in the depths of the night. He had
to wonder why the boy noticed what everyone else tried to ignore and ignored
what everyone else seemed to notice. Why did he take so much interest in the
fishermen who worked their nets in the shallows of the Sea of Galilee? Why did
he seem to look so compassionately on the beggars, the hookers, and the legion
of disenfranchised that hovered in the shadows of Capurneum or Jerusalem? Why
did he stare so long at the sheep being herded up the temple mount for sacrifice?
Why was he so quiet when his father asked him to hand him nails and why did he
seem to flinch with each blow of his father’s hammer on those nails? Maybe
it’s just a carpenter thing, but the time for reflection comes in handy
when you’re the legal guardian of the Redeemer.
It was a tall order: Work hard to provide a safe childhood for the future
Light of the world. Raise a Son who won’t run when it’s time to receive
the Christmas nails. Wrap the gift well. Joseph did, and we’re all the
better for it.
In the fullness of time, God brought forth His Son. He placed Him in the lap
of a precious woman and groomed him with the calloused hands of a carpenter.
O come, let us adore Him.
