A Lineage of Grace

by Francine Rivers

  “Lord,” Simeon said in a trembling voice, “now I can die in peace! As you promised me, I have seen the Savior you have given to all people. He is a light to reveal God to the nations, and he is the glory of your people Israel!” Smiling, he wept, staring and staring at Jesus as though he could not get his fill of seeing him. “Lord, Lord . . .”

  “Mary?” Joseph said softly, standing at her elbow.

  “It’s all right,” she said, unaware until then of the tears pouring down her own cheeks. Here was a devout man who resided in the Temple, and he recognized her son as the Messiah.

  Simeon raised his head and looked at each of them. “May the Lord watch over and protect you as you rear up this child in the ways of his Father. This child will be rejected by many in Israel, and it will be their undoing.”

  The word rejected struck Mary’s heart. Who in Israel would reject the Messiah? Didn’t all crave for things to be put right between man and God? Surely the priests and elders would rejoice. Even the high priest would come out to greet him.

  Simeon didn’t explain. He looked upon Jesus again. “But he will be the greatest joy to many others.” He placed Jesus back in Mary’s arms. Then, surprising her, he reached out with both hands and cupped her face tenderly as one would a favored daughter. His face was filled with sorrow and compassion. “Thus, the deepest thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your very soul.”

  Troubled by his words, Mary wanted to ask what he meant, but Joseph’s hand was gently pressing against the small of her back. “We should go, Mary.” Heeding his instruction, she bowed her head to Simeon and turned away.

  As they came out into the corridor, Mary saw men and women drawing aside as an old woman stooped with age and garbed in widow’s black hurried toward the women’s court. People whispered close by: “It is Anna, the daughter of Phanuel of the tribe of Asher. . . . My mother said she came into the Temple when her husband died. . . . She’d dedicated her life to serving God night and day with fasting and prayers. . . . She is said to be a prophetess. . . .”

  Mary glanced back and saw Simeon standing in the corridor, his gaze still fixed upon Jesus. As she turned away, she saw that the old woman was heading straight for her and Joseph. “He is come!” The old woman gazed adoringly at Jesus in Mary’s arms. Spreading her hands, she closed her eyes and lifted her head, speaking joyfully. “Out of the stump of David’s family will grow a shoot—yes, a new Branch bearing fruit from the old root. And the Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. He will delight in obeying the Lord. He will never judge by appearance, false evidence, or hearsay. He will defend the poor and the exploited. He will rule against the wicked and destroy them with the breath of his mouth.”

  Yes! Mary wanted to cry out. My son will break the chains that bind us. Rome will no longer rule the world. My son will rule. My son will make all things right.

  Joseph’s hand clenched Mary’s arm, drawing her back. “We must go, Mary. We must go now.”

  “But she is announcing the Day of the Lord.”

  “Yes, and Herod’s spies are everywhere, even inside the Temple.”

  Mary understood his warning immediately. Herod had killed his favorite wife and two sons over an imagined threat to his throne. The Messiah was a rival, for he would one day remove the power of all earthly kings. “Yes, of course,” she said, leaning into Joseph’s lead as he drew her into the crowd. She must protect her son until he was old enough to take his proper place. They lost themselves in the throng who pressed in to hear the prophetess speak of the coming Messiah. Still, Mary’s heart raced, for the Lord had seen to it that the Messiah’s birth was announced in the Temple.

  As they neared the doorway to the outside, Mary saw a man standing to one side. He looked straight into her eyes, his own so black they seemed to open into the black pit of his soul. She had never seen eyes so filled with hatred and violence. “Joseph!” she cried out in alarm, and her husband’s arm came firmly around her. She held Jesus closer as they hurried down the steps.

  “What did you see?” Joseph said as they hurried away from the Temple mount.

  “A man, Joseph, just a man,” she said, out of breath. A man who had the eyes of death.

  * * *

  Joseph decided it would be best if they remained in Bethlehem, away from the gossip surrounding their hasty marriage in Nazareth. Soon after the visit to the Temple, Joseph found a small house on the edge of town in which they could live comfortably. There was enough room for him to set up shop and ply his carpenter’s trade. They moved in with their few possessions. Joseph left for a few days with his donkey to dig up tree stumps so that he would have wood. Upon his return, he went straight to work making utensils, bowls, and dishes to sell in the markets of Jerusalem.

  Each morning, Mary carried Jesus to the well in a blanket sling and drew up fresh water for the day’s use. While at her household chores, she kept Jesus beside her in a cradle Joseph had made. Often, she would carry Jesus into Joseph’s shop so her husband would see each change in their son. “He’s smiling, Joseph! Look!” And Joseph would laugh in delight with her.

  Jesus was sitting up at six months and crawling at seven. At ten months, he gripped Joseph’s fingers and pulled himself up. Joseph loved the sound of his baby chuckles and his intent interest in everything around him. At eleven months, he was toddling after Mary; at twelve months, he had his first skinned knee. Sometimes Jesus seemed like any other child, and at others, Joseph experienced a wave of awe when Jesus looked at him with eyes at once innocent and wise.

  Each morning and evening, Joseph read to Mary and Jesus from the scrolls that had been in his family since the time of David. On one particular evening, Jesus played quietly on a mat, filling a toy boat with pairs of carved animals Joseph had made. Joseph paused in his reading to watch Jesus, his heart swelling within him. Jesus put two small sheep inside the boat, closed the door, latched it, and clapped his tiny hands. Joseph lowered the scroll to his lap. “Do you ever wonder how much he knows, Mary?”

  “Every day.” She, too, studied Jesus as he played.

  Joseph smiled ruefully. “I wonder why the Lord didn’t choose a more learned man, one who could provide a better home for Jesus.”

  “By better, you mean ‘finer.’”

  “Surely the Son of God deserves finer.”

  “Hasn’t God always chosen things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise? Maybe God chose a peasant girl to be his mother and a carpenter to be his earthly father because the Messiah is meant for all our people, not just those who dwell in the fine houses of the provinces or the palaces of Jerusalem.”

  A knock startled them. “Who would come at this hour?” Mary lifted Jesus and held him close, while Joseph quickly rolled the scroll and put it back in the trunk against the wall. When Joseph opened the door, Mary heard strangers’ voices speaking in stumbling, heavily accented Aramaic. She heard Joseph say yes, and the men cried out happily. Joseph glanced back at her, his eyes bright with excitement. “These men have come from the East.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Learned men who study the heavens. They’ve been following a new star they say announces the birth of the King of the Jews. They’ve come to worship him.”

  Mary stepped forward. “Invite them in, Joseph.”

  “They’re Gentiles, Mary, and will defile the house.”

  “How can they defile the house when the Lord himself has sent them?”

  Joseph nodded. Turning back, he opened the door wider. Men in foreign dress began to crowd into the small house. Mary drew back to give them more room, for there were four, each accompanied by a servant. They stared at Jesus with a mingling of joy and awe. One by one, they knelt and bowed their heads to the ground before him.

  Jesus pressed at her so that she knew he wanted down. She set him on his feet, keeping c
lose watch over the strangers and her son.

  “We have brought gifts,” one said thickly. Turning to his servant, he took a carved box and opened it. Astonished, Mary saw it was filled with gold coins. She had never seen so much money, except at the table of the money changers in the Temple. It was more than Joseph would make in a lifetime. The next man handed her an embroidered leather bag. “Frankincense.” The third man set down another box of coins, while the fourth placed a sealed alabaster bottle on the floor mat at her feet. “Myrrh.”

  Mary marveled at such gifts. They had brought gold as a tribute to her son who would be king, frankincense for him to burn as an offering in the Temple, and myrrh as a fragrant balm to anoint his body.

  Jesus paid no attention to the gifts, but toddled among the men who had come to worship him, touching their faces and turbans, and peering into their eyes. He even went to the servants, who ducked their heads to the earthen floor rather than allow him to touch them. Jesus sat among them, opened the little toy boat, and spilled out the animals once again.

  Joseph laughed. “Come. Be at ease. We don’t have much, but what we have we offer you.” He poured wine and broke bread and listened with great interest as the men told them about their long journey to Judah. Mary sat on the mat with Jesus while he played with his boat and animals. She listened to everything that was said. When Jesus yawned, she took him up in her arms and put him to bed.

  Only then did the conversation turn to the dangers surrounding her son.

  “We went to Herod and asked, ‘Where is the newborn king of the Jews?’ We told him about the new star, and how we had traveled so far to worship this newborn king.”

  Joseph’s face was suddenly pale. “And what did King Herod say?”

  The oldest of the four sojourners spoke gravely. “He called for the leading priests and teachers of your people and inquired of them. They said the Messiah was to be born in Bethlehem of Judah. For one of your prophets said, ‘O Bethlehem of Judah, you are not just a lowly village in Judah, for a ruler will come from you who will be the shepherd for my people Israel.’”

  “We were on our way out of the palace when Herod’s servant came to us,” said another. “He whispered to speak to us in private.”

  “King Herod told us to go and search carefully for the child, and when we found him to go back and tell him so that he too could come and worship him.”

  Mary saw the fear come into Joseph’s eyes. “And when will you do this?”

  “Don’t be troubled, Joseph,” the oldest of the company said. “King Herod’s reputation is known among the nations.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “And a messenger of God came to us and warned us against returning to the palace.”

  Mary looked at Joseph, but his attention was fixed upon the men.

  “It is our habit to sleep by day so that we can follow the star by night,” another said. “Yesterday, after leaving Herod’s palace, we stayed at an inn in Jerusalem.”

  “And all of us had the same dream.”

  “The exact same dream.”

  The oldest man lifted his hand to calm the excitement of the others. “We were all told not to return to Herod, but to go home another way.”

  “Herod will seek you out,” Joseph said grimly.

  “He will send men to look for a company of magi with their servants, but he will not find us. Each of us will be heading in a different direction. Babylon, Assyria, Macedonia, Persia. You will have only a few days before the king realizes we have gone. Then he will begin hunting for the child.”

  Mary’s heart pounded heavily with dread. She looked up at Joseph and saw the tension in his face.

  “It is time,” the oldest said, and they all rose. He grasped Joseph’s arms. “May the God of your fathers watch over and protect your son.” They went out into the night, and Joseph closed the door after them.

  Mary stood up, trembling with fear. “What shall we do, Joseph?”

  “We shall wait.”

  “You told me once that Herod has spies everywhere, even in the Temple. Wouldn’t he have had those men followed? They know where we live.”

  He came to her and cupped her face. “Who’s been telling me all these months that Jesus is from the seed of God?”

  She was unable to stop the trembling. How could they protect Jesus if King Herod came searching for him?

  Joseph drew her into his arms. “I’m afraid, too, Mary, but surely the Lord can protect his own Son.”

  “We should go back to Nazareth.”

  “No. We wait here.” They both needed reminding. “God directs our steps.”

  * * *

  Joseph heard the voice again that night while he lay upon his pallet with Mary tucked against him. “Joseph,” the angel said, luminescent and powerful, yet comforting. “Joseph.”

  “Yes, Lord,” Joseph said in his sleep.

  “Get up and flee to Egypt with the child and his mother,” the angel said. “Stay there until I tell you to return, because Herod is going to try to kill the child.”

  Joseph awakened abruptly in the darkness. All was still in the street outside. He rose carefully so he wouldn’t awaken Mary, took up the gifts the magi had left for Jesus and placed them carefully in the box with the scrolls that had been passed down to him. He went out to the stall he’d built at the back of the house and harnessed his donkey, tightening straps around its girth to mount burden baskets on each side. He tucked the box with the precious scrolls and gifts for Jesus in one and packed his tools, leather apron, and squares of olive wood in the other. Then he went to fill two skins with water and scoop enough grain into a bag to last the family a week.

  “Mary,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her brow. “Mary, wake up.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes like a little girl. He brushed the tendrils of hair back from her face. “An angel of the Lord came to me in a dream. We must leave Bethlehem at once.”

  She glanced up, her eyes alight with hope. “Are we going back to Nazareth?”

  “No, my love, we’re going to Egypt.” He saw alarm and dismay enter her eyes, but had no time to ease her fears. “Come, come,” he said, taking her hand. “We must leave.” As soon as she was standing, he took up the blankets and folded them quickly. “Make Jesus ready to travel.” He took the blankets out and tied them on top of the pack.

  Mary came outside soon after, Jesus bundled warmly and already asleep again in a sling she’d tied around her shoulders. She could nurse him easily as they traveled.

  They set off into the night. Joseph felt no regret at the loss of the house he had purchased for his family or the business that had just begun to prosper. His only thought was to get Jesus safely out of Bethlehem before Herod sent his soldiers to find and kill him.

  “Lord, give us strength for the journey,” Joseph whispered. “Give us strength and courage for whatever lies ahead.”

  As they traveled along a byway widened by the onslaught of pilgrims coming up from the regions of Ashdod, Ashkelon, and Gaza, the sun rose in front of them. Jesus awakened and cried. “He’s hungry,” Mary said. They stopped to rest so she could nurse him. “Did you ever think, Joseph, that we might be following the same road Joseph did when his brothers sold him to the Ishmaelites?”

  Her sweetness pierced him. She thought about so many things, pondering them and wondering at possible hidden meanings. “No. I only thought to get us out of Bethlehem as fast as possible.” He watched her set Jesus on his feet. She laughed as the little boy trotted happily toward a path of red poppies. Sometimes Joseph could hardly fathom that this child was the Son of God. Most of the time, he seemed like any other little boy of his age, fascinated by everything around him, needing protection and guidance. Yet there were times when a light would come into his eyes as though he remembered something. Was he merely human? or wisdom incarnate, budding each day until full comprehension of who he was came upon him in all force? And then what would happen? Would this little boy Joseph loved like his own flesh and bl
ood become the warrior-king all Israel longed to see?

  Or . . . Joseph felt a strange sensation prickle along his spine. His throat closed hotly. Or would Jesus grow up to be the suffering servant of whom the prophet Isaiah had spoken?

  Tears came as he watched Jesus. Sometimes Joseph had to remind himself that this child who played like any other was the Son of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Herod, the most powerful man in all Judah, was trying to kill him.

  What kind of opposition would Jesus face when he became a man? Had not every prophet but Moses and Elijah met with a violent death?

  “Jesus! Come!” Joseph caught him up and held him close, love filling him until he ached with it. Eyes hot, he kissed Jesus and swung him up so that the child was perched on his shoulders. Jesus hugged him around the chin and Joseph felt a rush of pleasure. Taking the child’s hands, he kissed each palm, then held both their hands outstretched. Jesus laughed.

  Mary’s eyes were aglow. “He looks as though he would like to embrace the whole world.”

  Yes, Joseph thought. But will the world embrace him?

  * * *

  Twenty long months passed. Although Joseph prospered, he felt uncomfortable dwelling among idol worshipers. The Law required that he take his family to Jerusalem for a pilgrimage at least once every two years, and that time was drawing near. And it was not just the Law that made him want to go. He longed to hear the sound of the shofar and the drone of voices speaking Aramaic in the streets. He prayed constantly that God would call them out of Egypt.

  Every afternoon as the sun was setting, Joseph opened the box that held the precious scrolls and called Jesus to him. The boy climbed into his lap, and Joseph read aloud from the Torah or unfurled a scroll with the words of King David or the prophet Isaiah. And then he would hold the boy close and pray.

  Joseph was resting in the afternoon heat when the angel of the Lord appeared to him.