Luke 2:41-50
"Every year Jesus' parents went to Jerusalem for the Festival of the Passover. When He was twelve years old, they went up to the festival. After the festival was over, while His parents were returning home, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but they were unaware of it."
I want to pause and feel this moment as a parent. Mary and Joseph left Jerusalem thinking Jesus was with the group. They traveled for a full day before they realized He was not with any of the relatives or friends. Then they went back to Jerusalem and searched for three days. Three days of panic. Three days of retracing steps and asking strangers and feeling the weight of every parent's worst nightmare. And then they found Him. In the temple. Sitting among the teachers. Listening to them. Asking them questions. And everyone who heard Him was amazed at His understanding and His answers.
Mary's response is so human. "Son, why have You treated us like this. Your father and I have been anxiously searching for You." You can hear the relief and the frustration tangled together. The voice of a mother who has been terrified and is now trying not to cry. And Jesus answers, "Why were you searching for Me. Did you not know I had to be in My Father's house." Twelve years old. Already aware of who He was. Already oriented toward His true Father.
This is the only story we have of Jesus' childhood. The only window into His years between the manger and the ministry. And what does it show us. A boy who knew He belonged to God. A boy who was already drawn to the things of His Father. A boy who could hold His own with the most learned teachers in Jerusalem and leave them astonished. He was fully human. He grew in wisdom and stature. But He was also fully God. And even at twelve, that identity was shining through.
I think about the tension in this story. Jesus honored His parents. He went back to Nazareth with them and was obedient to them. But He also knew that His ultimate allegiance was to His Father in heaven. There is a holy tension between the family we are born into and the family we are born again into. Between the obligations of earth and the calling of heaven. Jesus navigated that tension perfectly. He honored Mary and Joseph. But He never forgot who sent Him.
Mary treasured all these things in her heart. She did not understand everything. She probably did not understand most of it. But she stored it up. She kept the pieces. She held them like fragments of a puzzle that would one day make sense. That is what faith often looks like. Not full understanding. Faithful treasuring. Collecting the moments when God shows up and holding them close until the picture becomes clear.
"Did you not know I had to be in My Father's house."
Today I am treasuring. Not understanding everything. Just treasuring the moments when God has shown up in my life. The times I felt His pull toward something bigger than myself. The times I knew, deep in my bones, that I had to be where He was calling me. Even when it confused the people I love. Even when it did not make sense. The boy in the temple knew He had a mission. And the man He would become would fulfill it on a cross. It all started with a twelve-year-old who knew whose He was.
With the twentieth candle steady and the image of a boy in the temple burning in my mind, I am treasuring the moments I do not yet understand. Claire