Matthew 1:18-25
18 This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about[a]: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. 19 Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet[b] did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.
20 But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus,[c] because he will save his people from their sins.”
22 All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: 23 “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel”[d] (which means “God with us”).
24 When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. 25 But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus.
I sat there with my husband in a coffee shop just beneath the social services office where our appointment to meet our new son was scheduled to happen within the hour. We had arrived much too early, so I ordered an americano that I was too nervous to drink so that we had an excuse to wait inside and escape the damp chill of November in South Korea. I stared into my steaming hot coffee, a million questions racing through my mind:
What will he think of me?
Will he bond with me?
Will he grow up wishing I was someone else?
I felt incredibly inadequate for the journey ahead. And then I caught a glimpse of him in the hallway- shaggy black hair and dark, almond eyes, wearing a tiny trench coat and laughing as he ran to the elevator with his foster mother close behind. My breath caught in my throat and tears instantly sprang to my eyes as I saw my son for the first time. My son. The weight of those words settled deep into my chest as I thought of the conflicting narratives that would make a child without my DNA my son. It was a miracle, and yet-
he would not be my son if it wasn’t for brokenness.
Adoption is beautiful and redemptive, yes. I am deeply grateful for the immense privilege of raising a precious son who was not born to me. And still, it cannot be denied that adoption is born out of brokenness- broken systems, broken families, a broken world. As I held my new son that night in our hotel room, his eyes full of sadness and his body shaking with sobs, that brokenness became my own.
A little over a month later, we found ourselves back at home in Texas, Christmas celebrations in full-swing and adjusting to life with a busy toddler who was now laughing and playing with his big sisters. As we began to read the account of the Christmas story as a family like always, I suddenly found a new kinship with Joseph, the adoptive father of the newborn Messiah. There isn’t much written about Joseph’s life, but as I read the familiar passages about his integrity, his dreams, and his surrender to the radical plan of God, I recognized a thread in the miraculous weaving together of the holy family that I’m not sure I had seen before:
Jesus wouldn’t have been his son if it wasn’t for brokenness.
It was the brokenness in this world that compelled God to send His Son to it. Without brokenness, there would have been no need for a Savior, no need for this unlikely family from Nazareth. Joseph must have known this. He must have understood that his role as a father to the Christ child was a miraculous redemption of a flawed humanity. And although fatherhood would come to him in an unconventional fashion, he said yes anyway. I wondered if on that long trek to Bethlehem, Joseph held the same questions about Jesus as I did about our son in his heart:
What will he think of me?
Will he bond with me?
Will he grow up wishing I was someone else?
It must have been a daunting task, to become the earthly father to the Son of God. I imagine Joseph felt incredibly inadequate for the journey ahead, his own brokenness and flaws glaringly obvious in the face of such a holy assignment. When Joseph finally laid eyes on his newborn child, he didn’t recognize his own features in that tiny face. Instead, he saw the extravagant grace of God- a gift of His incarnate presence wrapped in swaddling clothes. I imagine Joseph’s breath caught in his throat and tears sprang to his eyes as he saw Him for the first time- his son. The weight of it settled in his chest. What a miracle that God would overlook his flaws and redeem the world’s brokenness to give him a son. He learned that night what we all need to hear-
Sometimes the most beautiful gifts come from brokenness.
The Christmas story illustrates this truth in the most stunningly beautiful way: A world lost in sin receives a gift it doesn’t deserve. An imperfect, unsuspecting young man becomes the adoptive father to the newborn King. A Son born into darkness becomes the Light of the World. Today, may we be reminded that our brokenness is no match for God. He gathers our loose threads tattered from sin and suffering and, like Joseph, weaves us into a family through a Son not born to us, but for us. A Son born into brokenness in order to redeem it.
Father, thank you that you did not despise our brokenness, but you showed compassion toward us through the extravagance of your Son Jesus coming to earth to bring redemption to us. We are overwhelmed by your goodness. Help us to recognize the places in our lives where you are bringing beauty out our brokenness. May we experience a deeper gratitude than ever before for your love that redeems us and makes us whole. Amen.
by Heather F.
STXWM Blog 
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