Picture this event:
Now [Jesus’] parents went to Jerusalem every year at the Feast of the Passover. And when he was twelve years old, they went up according to custom. And when the feast was ended, as they were returning, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem. His parents did not know it, but supposing him to be in the group they went a day’s journey, but then they began to search for him among their relatives and acquaintances, and when they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, searching for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. Luke 2:41-46
Have you ever done that? Forgotten a child?
One time my husband and I were planning to make a 14-hour drive with our kids. We taught the pre-schoolers during the mid-week Women’s Bible Study and planned to leave right from church when we were done.
I will admit that the civilized chaos of alternating groups of children through our program followed by passing them back to their mamas with craft projects in hand left us a bit frazzled. So… we may have been a little harried and snappish as we loaded our kids into the car. {Ahem. Major understatement!}
Loaded and ready to go, my husband looked over his shoulder to back out of our parking space and noticed an empty infant seat. My heart stopped and my stomach knotted instantly. It only took about three minutes to race back into the church and retrieve our baby, but the feeling of horror the moment I noticed the baby missing has never escaped my memory.
Mary and Joseph probably had to wait until the next morning to return to Jerusalem to find their missing child. Can you imagine the angst of that long night?
Can you imagine looking for three days in a city that no longer felt warm and welcoming? They searched streets, alleys, and marketplaces for their missing child, not knowing where he was. What went through their heads as they ached with guilt over leaving him? After all, they’d just lost the Son of God.
I feel a certain camaraderie and connection with Mary and Joseph. I feel their humanity – and I began to relax in my own.
This is why Jesus came. Because I mess up. Because I forget.
Sometimes I realize I have been missing Jesus. I’m just plodding along the path and at the end of the day, I notice he’s not with me. I left him. He came so that I could find him. His word, his Spirit, and prayer… these are all means to finding him again. And he’s always right where I expect him to be: sitting in his Father’s house (Luke 2:49; John 14:2-3).
Other times, I realize I don’t trust that God really remembers me. I feel forgotten. But Jesus came for this, too. He came because he wanted me to know a Father who would never forget me. (Psalm 121: 1-8)
I struggle with this. And time and time again, I have to return to the Bible. I have to pray that God would help my unbelief (Mark 9:24)
What about you? Do you desperately look for Jesus when you notice you’ve left him behind? Are you able to rest in the knowledge that God has not forgotten you – however bleak your circumstances may be?