And the blind shall, like, totally see

There’s a lot of talk around the world, especially at Christmas time, about the baby Jesus. We know about his parents, when and where he was born (though the “when” is a subject of some debate), and who his early friends were (cows, sheep, drummer boy, wise men). We also know a lot about the adult Jesus — his teachings, miracles, and of course his death (and beyond). But there’s twenty-odd years in between that we don’t hear much about.

Jesus must have been a toddler as one point, and he likely had tantrums like any other toddler, though my kids’ tantrums never caused plagues or rivers to turn to blood or anything. How do you give him a bath when he can walk on the bathwater? Gail and I have enough trouble with Nicholas thinking the world revolves around him; what if everyone else believed it did too? I’m guessing he’d win every game of “my dad is better than your dad”.

Here’s a scary thought — what about the teenager Jesus? Turning water into wine would make him popular at high school parties. Did he ever say “I don’t have to listen to you Joseph, you’re not even my real father”?

On the other hand, it would make grocery shopping a lot easier: “We’re out of loaves and fishes. Jesus honey, would you mind… that’s great, thanks.”

Thank you, thank you very much. You’ve been great. I’m here all week.


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