The Nativity is an Adoption Story

Bozi's Christmas hat...if he wears it!

A couple of weeks ago I set out our nativity scene! I love it. It’s probably my favorite Christmas decoration, except for the singing and dancing tree that lights up and sings “O Christmas tree.” We all like to jam to that one. One might say it’s a tad less classy and spiritual, but it’s super fun. Anyway, My mother-in-law gave the nativity set to me years ago after she heard me mention I wanted one. It’s got all the “big names.” You know, it has the shepherds, the wise men, an angel, a donkey, a cow, a sheep, Mary, Joseph and of course, Baby Jesus. He is Bozi’s favorite. He walks to the edge of our dining room and points at the set with his cute little finger and says “Jssish.” I have to say, it’s pretty adorable. 

His second favorite piece is Joseph. I would love for this deep love to

be a result of a spiritual reason or connection to Joseph being an adoptive dad, but I’m pretty sure it’s just because of our morning FaceTime convos with his cousin, Joseph. He yells his name over and over when we look at the set. 

When I first set out the pieces I introduced them all to Bozi. I started with Jesus. I mean, He’s kind of a big deal. Then, I pointed out the animals complete with cool animal sounds. We talked about the shepherds, wise men, Mary and then I got to Joseph. I said, “This is Joseph, Jesus’ adopted daddy. Joseph adopted Jesus and loved him as his own son!”

I don’t know why that all came out. I knew those facts about Joseph, but I never identified him that way when I described him. I certainly don't know what happened after that. All of a sudden water was leaking from my the corners of my eyes and I barely could speak those last three words. The nativity came so close to my rapidly beating heart. Now, it was a mirror for my son—Jesus was adopted. Joseph’s role jumped out and smacked me in the face. Jesus was raised by a man that didn’t create him. He was loved by a regular guy who responded in obedience to God’s call to love and care for His son. He wasn't rich. He wasn't perfect, he was willing. You cannot celebrate the birth of our Lord and not celebrate adoption. If you miss that, you miss the whole point because it leads us to the next step. The step where God sacrifices to adopt us. That’s an important step. 

The nativity scene is a beautiful picture of adoption. A man loving someone else’s son and making him his own. 

I worry about Bozi. I worry he will not see how valued he is in our family simply because he doesn’t have the gorgeous Layne eyes or mommy’s transparent ghost-like skin. I worry he will classify himself as an orphan before he recognizes the truth, he is a nephew, cousin, little brother, a grandson and our chosen son. 

Then I look at how we all live. We all live as orphans. Selfish, hopeless, full of anxiety, seeking to preserve ourselves and have our needs met, no matter the cost. We live without hope, without a sense of value, without peace and we miss the fact we are “chosen.” 

We have to get rid of our orphan status. That no longer defines us as Christ-followers. We are not fatherless, we have a Father. We have value ascribed to us by His only son coming to earth to live, die and be raised from the dead. God paid dearly for our salvation through His son, Jesus. What about this story doesn’t scream adoption?

I’m so thankful to have a VIP to show Bozi his value. I can teach him his family arrangement isn’t super far off from Jesus’--minus the virgin birth part. Adoption is woven through the entire Gospel. You honestly can’t get away from it. 

Tonight as we started up the stairs Bozi started pointing at the nativity

set again. “Jssish, Jssish,” he yelled.  I pray he continues to call His name. I pray he talks to him when he wakes up, throughout the day and before nighttime. I pray the same way adoption permeates every part of the Gospel, Jesus permeates Bozi’s life.

As we went to bed, we said, “Night, Night Jssish.”