My Brother

I have a brother.  I've never seen him face to face, but I know him. He died many years before I was born. I have read the story of his life. I have read his words and have grown to love him. I knew him first by reputation. I heard people talking about him. Then, one day, I met him.

I just talked with him again this morning. We talk frequently these days.  I have gotten to know him pretty well through the years, but as we plumb the depths of our relationship I realize that I am nowhere near the bottom.

Today I am wondering about what it was for him when he was growing up. I know that he had a mom and dad as well as brothers and sisters. He was the first born and the circumstances around his birth were somewhat scandalous. There were questions about his legitimacy, his mother's honor and fidelity, his real parentage.

What was it like for him to learn to walk? What was it like for him to learn to speak? How did he learn to obey? I know that he had a body and a brain very much like mine. He was filled with sweat, spit, and blood. He was full of curiosity and questions. He felt sadness, frustration, and anger as well as happiness and joy. He had a great since of humor as well.

He lived a real human life with all of the temptations and trials that we all experience. He lived and learned, making mistakes along the way, but he did it all without sinning. He did it all without breaking fellowship with his Heavenly Father. He showed us that it could be done. He showed us how it could be done.

I have long known that Jesus was God, that Jesus was my King. Now, I long to know him as a man, as my brother.