Of Dads, Step-Dads, and the Example of Joseph. A Christmas Story

In the roster of the cast of the Real Christmas, the A-list lead is, of course, the Baby. While the baby in the manger was God in every sense of the word, He was still—after all—a newborn: helpless and utterly dependent. And so He needed a great supporting cast. This “Save the World” thing was going to be a big deal.

First among that supporting cast were His mother, Mary, and her betrothed—and Jesus’ new stepfather—Joseph. The two were specially chosen to do what they were setting out to do: raise the Son of God. Mary gets a lot of airtime in religious circles, and she deserves it. But I’ve always been partial to Joseph.

Here’s why.

I married Diana in 1985. I was 22 years old. She was a widow with two sons—Jesse, age five, and Gabriel, just 22 months. In an instant, I went from living in a one-room bachelor pad with a guitar to being a husband and stepdad with four mouths to feed. It was harrowing. To say I was just having a simple crisis of confidence would be kind—perhaps even optimistic.

I had no job. No savings. No experience with the “dad thing.” For the first several months of our marriage, I muddled through with waning confidence.

My breakthrough came on a Sunday before our first Christmas together as a new family. The pastor’s sermon topic wasn’t quintessential Christmas fare. It was all about Joseph, Jesus’ stepfather. He spoke of the inadequacies and quiet fears Joseph must have felt when charged with the supreme task of raising the Son of God.

Earthly stepfathers often feel they must “measure up” or “compete” with the living “ex” or with the ghost of a deceased father. Those feelings are usually self-inflicted—but very real nonetheless. Imagine trying to compete with the Creator of the universe.

As the sermon unfolded, the message became clear: God selected Joseph specifically for this grand task and He fully equipped him to do it. And in that moment, I understood something just as clearly. God had selected me to raise these two boys and had equipped me to do it. I was not alone in this grand adventure.

There are epiphanies in one’s life that become central to direction, purpose, and identity. That Sunday sermon was one of mine. That Sunday morning, I graduated from stepdad to Dad.

I don’t believe Joseph introduced Jesus to others as his “stepson.” It was probably more like, “This is my son, Jesus.” And I imagine a toddler Jesus crying out “Abba!” to Joseph after falling and scraping his knee. In our family, the “step-thing” is a term reserved for legal documents. “Dad” will suffice, thank you.

Not too long ago, I received a text—out of the blue—from Gabriel (now 35 years old). No pretext. No introduction. Just four simple words:

“I love you, Dad!”

I cannot overstate how affirming that was.