Joseph's Poem

(This post comes from the talented, Pastor Michael Smith... known to us as MDubs)

This child isn’t mine.

I remember the feeling, the fear, the reeling,

Scandal, embarrassment, no hope of concealing that my love,

My wife-to-be, had conceived.  And deceived? 

How could this be?

This child isn’t mine.

Head spinning, knees weak, that thought on repeat,

She’d just come home - it was barely a week since she’d arrived

From three months at her cousin’s and, unpleasant surprise,

Visibly pregnant, no way to disguise.

We’d never even kissed; no secret meetups, no tryst,

We were abundantly cautious, careful to resist bringing any shame,

Dishonor or stain to our families, to my name,

But now this… unbearable pain.

We were bound by oath, our futures intertwined,

I’d pledged my intent by the ketubah I’d signed, to provide,

To protect, to honor and keep my bride.

But… this child isn’t mine.

She tried to explain, to ease the strain,

But her story was, in a word, insane - obviously fake, of

Gabriel, a promised king to rule over Jacob,

King David’s throne, no longer vacant.

What could I do? This couldn’t be true.

I cared for Mary, but of course I knew what this would do,

To our families, to us, to the whole town’s view

Of her, our marriage. We couldn’t go through.

I didn’t want retribution or punishment or restitution,

I wanted to protect Mary from destitution, persecution.

Moses had established a way of resolution,

A quiet divorce, a legal dissolution.

But then, everything changed. 

Sleepless, exhausted, depleted, fatigued,

I laid down that night begging rest, pleading peace,

But Merciful Yahweh gave much more than sleep:

Assurance - Mary was who I thought she’d be!

She was honorable, true, faithful! And favored…

A participant in Yahweh’s salvation through her labor,

I was shaken by fear - thank God she’d been braver,

So I would stand by my Love, and declare to our neighbors:

This child isn’t mine.  No.  He is God’s.

God’s son - wondrous thought - but now my position was odd,

I felt so unworthy, a pretender, a fraud,

Would I have to live behind a facade,

Who am I to play father to the son of God?*

What had the angel called him? Jesus.  “God saves”

And Immanuel - God is present in this place,

With us, with me.  Though the world chides “Disgrace!”

I know God is with me, I will hold high my face.

I knew the promises, oft repeated of old,

Isaiah - the angel quoted - the good news foretold,

The hope of the earth, not just of Jacob’s fold,

Would come from my tribe, and now, behold,

God with us. Immanuel. And God has willed

That our hopes, our longings, the prophets’ words fulfilled,

God’s rescue; salvation, the end of our guilt,

Would be here, in my house, beneath this roof that I built.

If all this is true, if He is who the angel said,

I have the honor to watch over Messiah in his bed,

And with his mother, to steward this gift of a Son,

Knowing,

This child isn’t mine.  He is everyone’s.

*credit to Michael Card for this beautiful thought from Joseph’s perspective