The Lamb Makes His First Journey to Jerusalem

By now, Jesus was twelve years old. That was old enough to begin studying the Torah more formally. He was on the edge of manhood in Jewish culture. He was no longer just a boy tagging along; He was a young man engaging with the faith of His fathers. When the feast ended, the family began the long walk home northward, descending the hills of Jerusalem among a caravan of friends and relatives. But as the miles passed, one crucial detail went unnoticed: Jesus was not with them. He had intentionally stayed behind.

Mary assumed He was walking with the men. Joseph likely assumed He was still with the children. It wasn’t until nightfall, when families reunited at camp, that the truth set in. He was gone. Panic ensued. They spent another day’s journey retracing their steps back to Jerusalem, hearts racing and stomachs sinking, until they found Him on the third day, calmly sitting in the temple courts, surrounded by teachers of the Law.

When Mary finally found Him, her voice trembled with both relief and rebuke: “Child, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously searching for you!”

But Jesus answered with innocent perplexity, not defiance: “Why were you searching for me? Didn’t you know that I must be about my Father’s business?” (Luke 2:49)

Those are the first recorded words of Jesus in Scripture, and they are loaded with revelation. Even at twelve, He understood His divine identity and mission. He didn’t say “our Father.” He said, “my Father.”

For Joseph and Mary, that was a jarring reminder. They had lived with the mystery for twelve years. They had heard angels speak, shepherds sing, prophets bless, and wise men worship. They knew this child was born of the Holy Spirit. Yet daily life has a way of dulling the wonder.

They had fed Him and watched Him learn to walk. They had soothed Him through sickness, cleaned scraped knees, and tucked Him in at night as He drifted off to sleep. They saw Him grow, laugh, work, and live as any other boy. And perhaps, as the years went on, the staggering truth — this is the Son of God in our home — had faded into familiarity.

It’s easy for us to do the same. We can become so comfortable with the nearness of Jesus that we lose sight of His majesty.

When we overemphasize His humanity, Jesus becomes merely a good teacher or moral companion — relatable but powerless. We reduce Him to an example instead of a Savior. He becomes our “friend,” but not our Lord. Our “helper,” but not our Judge or King.

Yet when we neglect His humanity, we lose the warmth and comfort of a Savior who understands. He ceases to be our brother, our mediator, our fellow sufferer. We end up with a distant deity — unrelatable, unapproachable, untouched by human weakness.

Scripture refuses to let us divide what God joined in the person of Christ. He is truly human and truly divine. His divinity guarantees that His power is sufficient to save; His humanity assures that His compassion is real and near.

Joseph and Mary’s confusion in the temple was not just parental worry; it was theological tension. How could the boy they raised speak with the authority of God Himself? They could not understand it fully, and Luke tells us that Mary “treasured all these things in her heart” (Luke 2:51).

That’s what faith often looks like: treasuring mysteries we don’t yet grasp. God’s ways are sometimes baffling. His plans can seem delayed or unclear. But faith doesn’t discard what it can’t explain. It holds onto it, ponders it, turns it over in the heart until the Spirit brings understanding.

Even in His divinity, Jesus submitted Himself to His earthly parents. Luke says He was submissive to them, a word that implies complete and willing subordination and obedience. The Son of God, the Creator of all things, chose to live in humble obedience to the ones He created. That quiet submission foreshadowed a far greater obedience still to come: obedience to the Father’s will, even to death on a cross.

A Call to Action

Believers today stand in the same place as Mary, surrounded by truth they can’t fully comprehend. Like her, we’re invited to treasure and ponder rather than rush past the mystery.

And like Jesus, we’re called to live with unwavering devotion to the Father’s will. When faith feels uncertain or God’s ways seem hidden, we are not asked to have every answer. We are asked to be faithful. “Didn’t you know I must be about my Father’s business?” Those words still call every disciple to live each day, in both wonder and obedience, for the Father’s glory.

2025.11.12 / The Lamb Goes to Jerusalem / Pastor Daniel Steeves