Digging Deeper: The God Who Grew Up
41 Now his parents went to Jerusalem every year at the Feast of the Passover. 42 And when he was twelve years old, they went up according to custom. 43 And when the feast was ended, as they were returning, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem. His parents did not know it, 44 but supposing him to be in the group they went a day’s journey, but then they began to search for him among their relatives and acquaintances, 45 and when they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, searching for him. 46 After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions.
Luke 2:41-46 (ESV)
THE GOD WHO GREW UP
There was no comfortable way to wear my headphones. The flimsy foam barely kept the hard metal from pressing into my inner ear. The windowsill bumped my head again, and I ripped them off. I didn’t really need another round of Michael Jackson anyway, and the cassette needed to be flipped.
“The sign says left, Tom,” my mom said, pointing up a steep hill.
The sedan slowed, then straddled the shallow valley carved into the middle of the road. A few more miles and we stopped. A group of teenagers in green caps and white coveralls lifted a gray trunk from our car. We were waved down another hill into a parking lot, and suddenly, we were there.
As I looked around, I saw two lakes, one perched slightly above the other. A dock, mostly crooked trees with a few Home Depot boards mixed in, stretched across the upper lake. An A-frame building with a wraparound porch stood nearby, game tables tucked underneath. I started walking toward the water when I heard a shriek.
“She’s gone!”
“Who?”
“Cary. She was here. We visited the cabin and then I… she just disappeared.”
My aunt Allison is not a quiet person. Within minutes, hundreds of parents, counselors, and directors were combing the woods of North Carolina. They searched the lower lake, then the upper lake. The dining hall. The dock. Every single cabin. Only to find Cary asleep in the back of the car.
The first three Gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, are often grouped together because they tell Jesus’ story in similar ways. They’re called the Synoptics, meaning “to be seen together.” John stands apart, written independently, with a different style and focus.
Because Mark was written first, it’s sometimes argued that Matthew and Luke simply copied him, leaving us with fewer independent accounts of Jesus’ life than we think. But the historical method lets us see more than literary dependence. Both Matthew and Luke contain material that does not come from Mark and reflect independent sources behind their Gospels.
Scholars often call these sources M (unique to Matthew) and L (unique to Luke). Luke’s L material is especially intimate, family-centered, remembered, and personal. Many scholars believe it preserves testimony from women who were present from the beginning, including Mary, the mother of Jesus, and Mary Magdalene. One such memory, found only in Luke, is the story of Jesus being lost at age twelve.
And that makes sense, doesn’t it?
That story is told from a parent’s point of view. The fear. The frantic search. The relief mixed with confusion. Just like my aunt Allison. Just like any mother. Mary never forgot losing her child.
So much of our eyewitness testimony about Jesus centers around his ministry and Passion Week (and rightfully so). But Mary gives us a tiny glimpse into a time erased by history. Jesus was a baby, a toddler, and a young boy before he was a man. He truly grew in the same way we do.
If life feels messy today, remember this: Jesus grew too.
Even the Son of God had to grow.
Curt Bowen is a husband, father, and group leader who loves engaging in apologetics, theology, and good BBQ. A thrill-seeker at heart, he enjoys roller coasters and has an appreciation for snakes—just not the conversational type.