|
Dear friends,
Some time ago, I found myself wandering the parking lot at the Charlotte airport, unable to locate my car.
Not merely misplaced but truly lost. I rode the shuttle in ever-widening circles as dusk settled over the lot, each stop promising recognition and delivering only disappointment. I remained on board for another circuit, and then another. By the third round, I had learned the bus driver’s name and, inevitably, the names of his grandchildren. Eventually, I was the sole passenger, circling with my suitcase beneath the flicker of fluorescent lights, passing row upon row of indistinguishable vehicles. Every section seemed familiar, yet none were correct. I had been so certain I remembered where I parked.
Spoiler: I did not.
In the text we’ll explore together this week, Luke tells us that Mary and Joseph did something like that. On their way home from Jerusalem, they assumed Jesus was with them. Luke says they supposed it. A full day later, they realized he wasn’t where they expected him to be. Panic followed. Anyone who has ever lost a child in a grocery store (or misplaced a passport the night before a flight home) can relate. Imagine realizing you’ve lost God’s son. Suddenly, my embarrassing airport shuttle story feels relatively minor.
Mary and Joseph retrace their steps, searching the familiar paths, until at last they find the child amongst the teachers in the temple.
When his mother finally speaks, Jesus answers with his first recorded words in Luke’s Gospel: “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know I must be about the somethings of my Father?”
Luke leaves the phrase strikingly open. Jesus says he must be tois tou patros mou literally, 'in the things of my Father.' Not simply a location, nor merely a task, but the things themselves: the people, the spaces, the purposes in which God’s kingdom is unfolding.
Jesus is not lost. He is simply not where those who seek him most faithfully have assumed they ought to look.
This sort of disorientation feels especially near in these in-between days, when Christmas has passed, the year ahead remains uncertain, and we find ourselves retracing familiar routes, hoping for something to fall into place. Before we hurry toward certainty, scripture offers a softer invitation: Where, in truth, are we seeking God? And where might God already be at work, patiently and persistently, just beyond the boundaries of our assumptions?
Mary doesn’t understand everything that day. She treasures it. Jesus goes home. Life continues. Faith grows alongside mystery.
I pray that in these in-between days, you might find a moment to rest and perhaps even notice the presence of the divine in places you least expect. I look forward to the privilege of gathering on Sunday to worship and explore this story of Jesus’ own in-between days. On this holiday week, we will worship together in a single contemporary service at 11:00 a.m. in the sanctuary. I hope you will bring a friend along.
Grace and peace,
Courtney
| 
