What is conceived in her

Joseph and the fear of being forgotten

In October, I was on a retreat and attended St. Joseph’s Roman Catholic Church in Somers Point, NJ. The Polish priest was extremely serious; in the runup to the election, he talked about how we should not let people become leaders who only want to be leaders for the sake of power; instead, we must elect leaders who love integrity and justice. He did joke that we should pray for the Philadelphia Eagles—and to be clear, that was nine games ago and they haven’t lost since, so I suppose his effectual and fervent prayers have availed much.

I sat down and was immediately taken with this beautiful window, with the angel Gabriel announcing to Joseph that he should not be afraid to take Mary as his wife, because the Child conceived within her was from the Holy Spirit.

I pondered that morning—and I have ever since—what exactly Joseph would be afraid of. I have heard sermons—good ones—that have talked about how Joseph feared shame at Mary’s pregnancy, that he would appear either so stupid to believe her cockamamie story, or so spineless that he could not confront his obviously adulterous wife.

I think that’s part of it, but I think that Joseph was being asked to do more than just swallow his pride for a few months. What was conceived in Mary was from the Holy Spirit, says Gabriel, and it’s more than just reassuring Joseph that his wife did not have sex with another man. Instead, Gabriel is changing Joseph’s center of reference forever. Whatever dreams Joseph had for his own life—and his son’s life—were now gone. Instead, his life would now be forever about supporting Mary, and this little one that she was birthing. If people remembered him at all, it would only be in reference to others.

Joseph is being told that he’s no longer the main character. He’s now an asterisk; he’s Jesus’ “father.” His goals—and as a righteous man, we can imagine these were good and godly goals—are no longer important. Everything is changing for him in just one dream, and his life is now not about projecting and achieving his own plans, but about supporting the work of others.

Joseph is deeply challenging to my students who are working hard to find their vocations. Many of them have great dreams of things to do for God. They want to write dissertations, teach students, pastor churches, do groundbreaking research, start businesses. There is so much to do, there is such a tight connection of identity with achievement. A life like Joseph’s, lived largely anonymously in support of God’s work in someone else, seems tragic to them. This is especially true for the men. Often the women have been conditioned to think of their work as supporting a yet-to-be-discovered husband, but usually the men have Plans and Dreams, or at least know that they should. It is threatening to imagine that these things might not happen, that I might not rise to the level of leadership and influence that I believe God wants me to have.

Yet Joseph’s dream is replayed every day for me. In some ways, this started when Jill was pregnant. I realized that what was conceived in Jill was from the Holy Spirit too. Of course, this wasn’t in the same way that Mary’s child was, but when Grace came along, the equation undoubtedly changed for me. My goals were different now, and my life was not just about achieving something I had set out to do. Instead, my goals were to protect this little one and help her to flourish. Maybe that would mean working less, or leaving good professional options on the table. Maybe that would mean working more to provide enough to raise Grace (and those that came after her).

But it’s not just my kids. I look at Jill and realize that the Holy Spirit has conceived so much in her. She is so talented and so gifted that I want more and more people to see the Christ in her. If there is a way that me spending my energy differently allows God’s work to flourish in and through her, then I want that too—even if it means my own star is dimmed by her brightness.

And as much as I love Jill, it’s not only her—the Holy Spirit is conceiving new work around me all the time, in so many people. Our marriage has helped me see the breadth of the Holy Spirit’s work in the world, and suddenly I’m realizing that in light of all that God is doing, my call might be way more anonymous and supporting than I ever realized. Like Joseph, I might be that introductory Bible professor who shared something that changed your understanding, but you forgot where you learned it. I might be the preacher who said something the hundredth time, and it finally clicked, but you think you’ve always known it. I might be the dad who changed your diaper so many times that you feel safe and loved.

Our lives are built on these kinds of people, on Josephs who are brave enough to not fear and rage when life forces them out of the limelight. As I age, I discover that life forces you out of the limelight anyway. I have fewer years left to make a difference on my own, and my own work takes on more meaning when it is about supporting the great work of God that will continue when I am forgotten. When we realize that God’s work is bigger than our own, our recoiling turns to rejoicing as we learn to support all the work that the Holy Spirit is conceiving around us every day.

.