Lost!

Jesus was gone. At first, they were not worried, but Mary and Joseph had become increasingly alarmed when their casual inquiries only brought blank looks among their friends and acquaintances. No, they had not seen him. Try Manassa's tribe. A group of youth had been seen straggling behind the caravan, skipping stones into the shallow water standing in ditches along the roadside. Like all the others, though, this lead had resulted in a dead end. And so it had gone all day, as the frantic parents worked their way through the motley crowd of travelers back toward Jerusalem.

What could have happened?  Mary agonized in her thoughts. Mentally she berated herself for not checking closer for all the children. Even though her hands were full with the small ones, she should not have assumed for young Jesus's safety. After all, he was only twelve, just recently a tousled tot under her feet like the others. It was only of late, since he had shot up tall in a growth spurt, that she had begun thinking of him as older. And he had been acting older, more mature and responsible. She had entrusted him many times lately for the care of the littler children, especially during the harried preparations for this journey, and he had proved most capable and dependable.

But lost in Jerusalem! There were thieves, child snatchers, and evil men lurking in cities.  Even now, he could be sold as a slave and be miles from here. Her thoughts ran away as she thought of the other Joseph who was sold into slavery.

Yes, Jesus was technically a man now, as all Jewish boys who had reached their thirteenth year. But in her heart he was not. The round, childish face of his babyhood was fresh in her memory. This special closeness with her firstborn was a bond partly explained by the mysterious circumstances of his birth. But who could fail to love such a child, miraculous or not? And everyone did, it seemed. He never knew a stranger, and he was welcomed in any house in the village.

Mary loved all her children, each in a different way, but Jesus was uniquely different. They could communicate in ways that even she and Joseph could not. Even though the predictions of the angels, prophets and prophetesses seemed hazy at times, pushed far back in the daily routine of living, they surfaced at times like this. Surely nothing could happen to Jesus in his childhood! He was destined for some kind of greatness in his adult life. Still, clutching Joseph's hand, she forced down the panic rising in her throat as they reached the city and fought their way through the milling throngs.

First, they searched the marketplace. The tantalizing aromas of the food vendors wafted toward them, and they rushed to where a hooded Bedouin sat roasting a lamb over a spit. Jesus would be hungry. Several urchins were nibbling strips of meat they snatched from the fire of the dozing Bedouin. But Jesus was not among them.

Next, they pushed through a crowd of people gathered in a knot where the high, tinkling notes of tambourines, bells and a flute were audible above shouts of laughter and sounds of dancing. Jesus loved music and fun. Maybe he would be there. The inner circle of children watching the comical show was minus the face of Jesus, they realized in disappointment as they scanned the onlookers.

Sobbing by now, Mary cried, "Joseph, we'll never find him. He's lost. We've lost the gift God gave to us and entrusted us to care for. Help us, God!" Joseph wiped her face on his sleeve and held her close, trying to ignore the lump of pain choking him in his throat.

"It's getting late, Mary. We've searched all day. Let's go to the temple to pray. It may be that God will have mercy on us for our carelessness. It's all we have left to do," he finished quietly.

"But I've been praying!" she protested. "Prayers haven't ceased from my lips and heart all day! We can't stop looking!" Despite her protests, Mary was almost relieved to find herself being guided toward the temple by the strong arms of her husband. Thank God for Joseph. He was a tower of strength for her; he always knew what to do, so she relaxed and let some of the tension fall from her as she hung on to Joseph's waist.

Not more people! Mary thought as they entered the temple courts and she caught sight of a mob almost as big as the one outside. She had thought maybe they could find relief from the crowd and a quiet corner to rest and pray in the dim recesses of this hallowed sanctuary. But it must be another sideshow. People had no respect anymore, she noted through her tears as she pushed past crates of doves, bleating lambs and the carts of money changers.

"Mary, this way!" Joseph was pulling her, with a note of hope and excitement in his voice. "Listen! Do you hear that?"

As they pushed through the row of backs, legs, and shoulders, Mary gasped in amazement. Jesus stood there in the center of the crowd in an animated discussion with several priests and dignitaries. His young voice rang out confidently and easily, with not trace of the self-consciousness of a village lad. His manner was friendly, yet respectful, and his face lit up as he caught sight of his mother and father. "My mother! My father!" Jesus exclaimed as he rushed toward them.

"Son, Son, where have you been?" Mary was kissing him and hugging him as she pushed back his hair and examined his face. "We've been so worried about you!"

"Well, when I saw I had been left, I came here," Jesus said. "I knew you would look for me here. Didn't you know I would be about my Father's business?"

Mary lowered her eyes. Of course! How could she get so out of touch with her child? She had been thinking of the natural things--the food, the fun, the interests of a 12-year-old. But Jesus's heart was here. This was his business. This is what he was about, what he would be. Other thoughts began to crowd into her consciousness, vague fears mingled with a glad hope, but Mary pushed them aside.

She could not know of three days not long in the future when Jesus would again be absent from her and the world. She had no way of knowing she would be part of another crowd , searching for Jesus and seeing Him lifted up in shame for all to see, yet looking toward the safety of his mother. She took Jesus' hand, and with heart singing, she led him from the crowd. For now, at least, he was safe. She memorized every detail of his dear features as she watched him and Joseph laugh and talk beside her. Home. That was uppermost in Mary's mind as they headed toward the city gates. Soon they would be home, she thought, as the sun set over Jerusalem.