Just a few verses ago in Luke, Mary was holding her infant son and pondering in her heart the wonder of his existence. Now he’s twelve years old and getting lost in a strange city.
When she finally gets him back home, I imagine Mary sitting down with her mom over tea to tell her the whole, dramatic story.
“I thought parenting was hard before, but now that he’s a teenager, I don’t know what I’m going to do! I’m constantly worrying about where he’s going, what he’s doing, who he’s with. It’s like he has a mind of his own!”
Mary’s mom listens, sips her tea, and then offers the same sage words that grandmothers have said forever: “You think the teen years are difficult? Just wait until he’s an adult.”
The job is never done.
I think God sometimes thinks the same thing when looking at us. The job is never done. At no point in our lives do we achieve all the faith we need. There’s no point when, faced with a crisis, we do not turn to God dumbfounded, and ask, “What am I going to do?”
How wonderful that God never wearies of parenting us.
When you imagine God observing your life and your choices, what facial expression does God wear? Is the look filled with pride, worry, joy, love, all of the above, or another emotion entirely?
God, I’m so grateful that you continue to parent me no matter how old I am. I know I’m a job that’s never done. Thanks for not giving up on me. Amen.