During my college years, I was recruited heavily by the Army. I was in the Texas A&M Corps of Cadets, and I think it drives military recruiters crazy to have someone right on the doorstep — enrolled in ROTC and in uniform every day — and not close the deal. Every unit in the corps has a "military advisor" (read: recruiter); ours was Sergeant Major Epting. I remember one particular exchange with the sergeant major. It must have been his final attempt to win me over. He cornered me in a hallway outside an ROTC classroom and said, "So, Sanders, are you going to be in my army?"
"Sorry sergeant major. I've decided not to."
"That's too bad, Sanders. I like you. I hate to see you throw your life away."
I almost laughed. I really liked Sergeant Major Epting. I looked up to him. And my decision not to pursue a military contract was a difficult one. I have great respect for that career. But I didn't share the sergeant major's definition of a wasted life.
Oddly, Sergeant Major Epting is who I thought of when I read this morning's advent passage.
This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.
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. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”
All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel”—which means, “God with us.”
When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus.
I can't imagine the pressure Joseph must have felt to get out of that situation. Forget the weight of generations of family tradition, religious obligation, and cultural shame. Even if he ignored all that, this is seriously messing with his life plan. Now, instead of a storybook romance, he's got to prepare for her "baggage". Instead of being the envy of all his buddies, he'll be their charity case. Instead of the marriage night he dreamed of, he'll be raking hay in a stable and waiting a few extra months to get his groove on with Mary.
Even after his angelic vision, it would have been hard to stick around. It would have been easy to dismiss the dream as the result of too much wine the night before, or to water down the vision with half-measures. But what Joseph did was the ancient Hebrew equivalent of throwing his life away. He was going to marry a woman who had, apparently, slept with another man while promised to Joseph. He was not only going to tolerate her story about virgin pregnancy; he was going to believe it himself. He was going to tell his family, "Oh it's not what you think. She didn't sleep with anyone. She's a pregnant virgin. God impregnated her."
Every friend, every family member, every priest Joseph knew would have been pleading with him not to be foolish, to see past Mary's lies and his infatuation, to consider his family name, and not to throw his life away.
Joseph's call is our call too. God calls us to believe an impossible, cockamamie story about angels and devils, an all-powerful invisible being, human sacrifice, a virgin birth, and the king of the universe in a Middle Eastern feed trough. Too often, we lose sight of how ridiculous our beliefs really are. We start to think that Mormons or Muslims or evolutionists believe crazy stories. We ask them to "be reasonable."
But God's call is not reasonable; it's insane, countercultural, and impossible. If you want to live in a story that makes sense — a belief system that "feels right" to you, check out Buddhism or Hinduism. Those are much easier to swallow. But if you're interested in the Christian story — in answering the call of the God in the manger — then get ready to believe the unbelievable. Get ready to throw your life away.
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