Joseph the carpenter

When I think about Mary and Joseph, I’ve been struck lately by the range of emotions they must have felt. Excitement, anticipation, love, reverence, fear, hope, and so much more. I’ll admit, I sometimes read Bible stories as if the people in them are very different from me. Almost characters in a fictional sense. Maybe because so much time separates us that it makes it easier for me to view them that way. But the reality of it is, they’re probably more like me than I realize. Our life circumstances might look different, but our struggles, our hopes, our dreams, our fears, are probably quite similar.

Both Mary and Joseph must have had moments of doubt wondering why God chose them as parents. What made them so special? Why did God select such seemingly unimportant people for such an important task? I imagine them lying awake at night, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what they’d been called to do, wondering if they were truly qualified for such a sacred responsibility.

And here’s where the beauty of God’s heart shines through most clearly: He chose them not despite their ordinariness, but perhaps because of it. They came with nothing but their willingness–their simple “yes” to being part of His story. Their empty hands became the very way through which God would deliver His greatest gift to the world.

Isn’t this still how He works today? He doesn’t wait for us to become impressive enough, educated enough, or worthy enough. He doesn’t ask us to first solve all our problems or overcome all our doubts. Instead, He invites us to come exactly as we are–anxious, broken, questioning, even prideful. Whether we’re weighed down by burdens or filled with self-sufficiency, His invitation remains the same.

Sometimes we come with nothing but our burdens, nothing but our questions without answers, nothing but our weariness from the silence. And here’s the miracle that still takes my breath away: that’s exactly what He wants. Our empty hands, our heavy hearts, our unfaithful moments–they’re not disqualifications. They’re invitations to experience His fullness.

Mary and Joseph’s simple willingness to be part of God’s plan changed the world. They didn’t need to bring anything else to the table. Their strength wasn’t in what they had to offer, but in their openness to be part of something far greater than themselves.

This Christmas season, I’m finding deep comfort in this truth: God’s strength has always been most perfectly displayed through those who know their weakness. His grace has always flowed most freely to those who know they don’t deserve it. His mercy has always reached furthest for those who know they’re lost.

Whether you find yourself feeling unworthy or self-sufficient, broken or strong, full of faith or full of questions, you’re exactly who He came for. The miracle of Christmas isn’t just that God came to earth. It’s that He came for all of us, especially those of us who feel we have nothing to bring but our need for Him.

Because in God’s kingdom, nothing becomes everything when placed in His hands. Our inadequacies become spaces for His adequacy. Our weaknesses become places where His strength shines through. Our emptiness becomes where His fullness dwells.

So, this Christmas, come as you are. With your burdens, your questions, your emptiness, or even your pride. Come with nothing to offer but yourself. Because that’s exactly who He came for–and that’s exactly what He can use to write His story through your life.