“An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.”
(Matthew 1.1)

So the Gospel According to Matthew begins with seventeen verses of family connections outlining forty-two generations from Abraham to the birth of Jesus, from the giving of the covenant to the fulfillment of the covenant. Forty-two generations of family life . . . and death, of trial and tribulation, of joy and celebration, of wandering and of landedness. Forty-two generations of family, leading to the One who defines family . . . and in this season we are humbled to blend the stories of our generation with theirs. So it is with family.

Two weeks ago, Monday, I received a call from our oldest son, Matthew, who is a District Executive for the Okaw Valley Council of the Boy Scouts of America whose main office is in Belleville, Illinois. He was calling me with great concern in his voice, sharing with me that he was having chest pains, shortness of breath and feeling light-headed . . . and that he was driving himself to St. Elizabeth’s Hospital (3 blocks away) to the Emergency Room. It was one of those telephone calls that no parent wants to receive, yet, as I drove towards the hospital to meet him there, I found reason to be grateful in that he thought to call me while driving towards help.

To keep a very long and involved story short, following multiple EKG’s, blood tests, and X-rays, Matthew was released from the hospital on the next day by a doctor who told him, ‘We don’t think it was a heart attack. In fact, we don’t think the problem is with your heart at all. Rather, it is more likely to be a muscle in your chest wall which is giving you problems.’ A few days and a walking stress test later, a cardiologist confirmed the findings of the first doctor – and all of us were tremendously relieved, though still concerned as to how a muscle in his chest wall might have been pulled or injured in the first place. Yet, from a parent’s standpoint, we were happy that Matt’s heart is alright and that whatever else is bothering him can be handled. Those few short days of waiting with our son, sitting by his side and worrying what might be around the next turn aged both Nancy and me more than we want to admit but, truth be told, there was no where else on earth we would rather have been than with our son in the midst of his health concerns. So it is with family.

It was in the treatment room of the Emergency Area of the hospital that this notion first really began to take shape and form: ‘So it is with family.’ God births humanity in joy and celebration, gives guidance and counsel along the way in the days of growth and maturity, allows freedom in choosing which direction to go in each of our lives, then stands clear, though still near, as we test out our wings. Then, in a moment of fear, pain, or desperation, in a time of trial, adversity, or tribulation, a call is made, a prayer is uttered, a cry pierces the space, and Jesus is born, God is with us, the Spirit intercedes. So it is with family. So we are taught about family.

‘Covenant’ is not a contract. In that Emergency Room and on the telemetry floor later that night, I had a lot of time to ponder and marvel at how God does it – with all of us. I sat there looking at our oldest son, with wires attached to his chest, an oxygen tube in his nose, and a needle taped to his wrist and saw, not the twenty-five year old that was there in the room, but the year-old little boy taking his first steps on the farm place where Nancy and I first set our roots. I saw him tottering through the yard with a ‘herd’ of puppies on his heals, giggling with pleasure as they licked his nose, and later laying down with them in the grass out in the yard near the barn. I saw a seven year old playing baseball with his friends in Khoury League at White Oak Diamond in Marissa – and a nine-old looking with horror at the remnants of our neighbor’s window which was smashed by the golf ball he had just 5-ironed from the middle of the apartment complex lawn. I saw the ten-year old running in the fields and nearby woods with our neighbor’s kids as they explored places where ‘nobody had ever been before,’ and I saw him becoming a young man as he welcomed his youngest brother into the world not long before we moved to Lebanon. The covenant God makes with Abraham is about relationship: it is about how God chooses to be with us, in us, around us. A covenantal family is how God sees us living from beginning to end, from our little boy steps to the finding new worlds in places we have never wandered before . . . we are in God, even when we think we are on our own. So it is with family.

‘Blood’ is thicker than water. As I looked at Matthew laying there on that gurney in the sterile environment of a hospital, I saw him stand up for his younger brother, Ray, against some bullies who wanted to give him trouble, while at the same time I saw him with a handful of dandelions presenting a bouquet to his Grammy. I saw him competing in sports in grade school and high school, then taking that drive to excel into his college years. I saw him gather his Grandma in his arms during a nursing home visit with the same sort of ease that he tossed bales on the farm with his Grandpa. I saw him gathered with his friends in laughter and mischief on the parking lot of the high school with the same sort of good-natured care that he exercised as he talks with his Papa at the dining room table over a cup of hot tea or coffee. The blood of faith is the blood of a family that has endured much throughout the years. Not every land is conquered, not every enemy is vanquished, not every prayer is answered quite the way we think it should be, but at the heart of the matters we face is the love of the One with whom we face all things: God’s blood coursing through us, God’s blood poured out for us, God’s blood nurturing us. Thicker than all that threatens to wash us away, the blood of the covenant sees us eternally for who we are as God’s children. So it is with family.

‘Family’ has weight and meaning. Anxious to be done with all of the testing, poking and prodding, and especially ready to leave once the doctors said they were done with him, Matthew walked towards his Jeep, still parked in the Emergency Room parking area. As he walked across the lot, I saw him walking across the gym to receive his High School diploma, and across the stage under the oaks at McKendree to receive his Bachelor’s degree, and down the aisle as he and Bethany were married. I saw him, again, coming out of the door of the hospital room carrying their daughter, our first grandchild, Mary Cailin, and another time entering the front door of our home as they came to visit. I saw the pride on his face as they welcomed us into their first apartment, then into their second, and finally into their first home . . . even as I saw him walking down the path at Scout Camp with confident, sure strides of one who has much to do with shaping the lives of others. ‘Family’ has much to do with journeys, walking the way with ones who care for you because of, and sometimes in spite of, who you are to them. God’s family embraces the travels we take, the tasks we undertake, and sometimes the trials which overtake. God’s family sees the potential of what is yet to be revealed and believes in what may never be publicly seen. God’s family celebrates the accomplishments of the moment without reminding of the failures it took to get there. God’s family endures when all others would walk away, giving root and stability for the journeys yet to be planned. So it is with family.

A week after the ‘hospital experience’ our family gathered together at the Shrine of Our Lady of Snows to celebrate Matthew’s 26th birthday (December 19) and, as we joked with him about watching what he was eating, he retorted, ‘At least I’m here to eat!’ And, with that, the stories began all over again. Family stories, told of times when things were difficult and days were long. Family stories, told of moments when tears rained down like rivers and cries were heard like thunder. Family stories, told with a conqueror’s composure and a poet’s intuition. Family stories, told of journeys through the dark to find epiphanies in unexpected places. Forty-two generations of stories multiplied by the generations since that day of Jesus’ birth, come now to be told by another family bound in the lasting covenantal love of God. So it is with family. Towards the end of that evening, Matthew asked for everyone’s attention at the table and, as his eye’s welled with tears, he began to tell a new story . . . one that, for him, found its beginning and its end in the family in which God had birthed him. “This year hasn’t been the year that I thought it might be and, with what has happened in this last week, I’m really not sure what to expect in the coming year. But, of this I am certain . . . I am blessed to be a part of such a loving and supportive family. I can only hope to teach my children as much about family as all of you have taught me.” So it is with family.

With the year, 2006 just around the corner, it is my fervent prayer that as it is with God’s family, so it will be with you.

Covenant is not a contract: it is who we are together as a family. We may not always agree, we may not always be on the same path together yet, we are always family: God’s family, who cares for each other as much as God cares for us all.

Blood is thicker than water: it is the Blood of Christ which saves us. Our family heritage is not something we choose, it is something which we are given, a legacy to cherish, nurture, and pass along. Christ’s blood binds us as sisters and brothers in service and praise: it is what has been given us, it is who we are.

Family has weight and meaning: it is what brings us together here . . . and in the hereafter to come. Choosing not to drive home for a family reunion, to call for help when you are sick, or to admit that you need some help with a disagreement makes you no less a member of the family. Yet, it is in coming together that we discover our deepest unity, savor our cherished times along the way, and anticipate what is yet to come in God’s good time for all people. So it is with family.

From the Wagner family to yours, may 2006 be the year of God’s family, not by any human definition, but in the Grace which is ours through Christ and the Holy Spirit: Covenantally bound, sealed in blood, unifying all of God’s children as one. The days may not be easy, but of this we are certain, ‘We are blessed to be a part of such a loving and supportive family. May we teach this to the children of the generations to come.’ So may it always be with God’s family.