“Why were you searching for me?  Did you not know

that I must be in my Father’s house?”     

–Luke 2:49

In the spring before the start of seminary, I traveled to Great Britain for nearly two weeks. It was my first trip overseas and I enjoyed it immensely. I saw the Tower of London and Windsor Castle. I stood in the pulpit of St. Giles Cathedral where John Knox railed against Queen Mary and I loved the British tradition of afternoon tea. The selfie above comes from my most recent trip to England.   

Over the course of that first international expedition, I adjusted to many of the components of British life. I began to think in terms of pounds instead of dollars as I made purchases. I became adept at reading train schedules and looking to the right when crossing the street. I wasn’t brave enough to attempt driving, but all of those other adjustments made me feel good about my ability to adapt to another culture. It also made me a tad over-confident.    

One day toward the end of my stay I dialed up a taxi company. When the dispatcher asked for the location of my hotel I gave it, yet when he inquired my name I tried to sound like a native. I had learned that the city in Alabama we call Birmingham has an English community spelled the same way, but spoken of as “Birming’um.” With that in mind, I told the dispatcher my last name was “Willing’um.” He didn’t understand. “Say again.” Again, I replied “Willing’um.” He asked me to spell it.  When I did he replied, “Oh, you mean Willing-ham.” I meekly answered, “Yes, I do.”

I share that embarrassing moment not to suggest we shouldn’t try to adapt to the world around us, but rather to lift up those times when we can pretend to be more than we are. Most of us have known people who acted as if they knew far more than they did or had connections to power that were a figment of their imagination. We’ve encountered individuals who boasted of what they would do in tough situations only to fade away when the occasion arose. We have known others still who claimed to have just the right word for the moment–after the fact. And sometimes, each of those bold speakers is ourself. While each of us can grow in self-awareness Jesus seemed to have had that kind of knowledge from the start.

Luke tells of a day when Mary and Joseph took their 12 year-old son to Jerusalem for the observance of Passover. Somehow the parents and child got separated on the return trip to Nazareth and when they frantically re-traced their steps, Jesus was found in the Temple listening to the teachers. Mary scolds her son.  “Child, why have you treated us like this?  Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.”  In reply, with the first words from Jesus in the gospels, he says “Why were you searching for me?  Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”  

It would not be the only time Jesus revealed an accurate understanding of self. On other days, he told his followers that anyone who had met him had seen God and that he had descended from heaven. Jesus spoke openly of his power to forgive sins, too, and that he had shared glory with God before the world had existed. Such statements were not boastful, just the truth.  He knew who he was and lived it.    

William Shakespeare once said “To thine own self be true.” Jesus would agree.   

Incarnate God, we marvel at your self-awareness and the ability to remain true to that identity.  Help me to grow in doing the same. Amen.