Reframing Our Expectations

This is how Jesus the Messiah was born. His mother, Mary, was engaged to be married to Joseph. But before the marriage took place, while she was still a virgin, she became pregnant through the power of the Holy Spirit. Joseph, to whom she was engaged, was a righteous man and did not want to disgrace her publicly, so he decided to break the engagement quietly.

WE WERE WANDERING a department store at the mall when something caught my eye. It was a beautiful cream-colored peacoat with big buttons, cut slim through the body. Fancy, but in a timeless way. It looked like something Audrey Hepburn would have worn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, or what you’d have seen on Jackie Kennedy at a society event—1960s glamour wrapped up in a 2000s coat. It was gorgeous but not the most sensible, especially not in that cream color.

Ignoring my inner practicality, I pulled it off the rack and looked around for a mirror.

“Hang on a sec. I want to try something on,” I called out to my husband, who was still strolling ahead. He turned around and made his way back toward me just as I was shrugging it on.

“Did you find something you like, Kristin?” he asked.

It fit perfectly, even through the shoulders, which is rare for me. I couldn’t help but admire the classic lines of it. But glancing at the price tag, I reluctantly placed it back on the hanger.

“Maybe another time,” I sighed, common sense winning out.

By the time Christmas rolled around a couple of months later, I’d mostly forgotten about the coat. Yet when my husband slid a large box in front of me with a gleam in his eye, I wondered if he’d gotten it after all.

“Go ahead, open it,” he urged, face alight with expectation.

It was beautifully wrapped in silver with a big bow on the front. As I slid my finger under the tape and removed the paper carefully, he practically vibrated with excitement.

Finally, I made it through the layers of paper, box, and tissue paper to reveal a cream-colored peacoat. It was beautiful, and it had buttons.

But it wasn’t the one I’d loved.

“Oh—it’s lovely,” I managed to get out, but something in my voice must have given away my true reaction.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Isn’t that the one you liked?”

“Well . . . no,” I said hesitantly, wanting to spare his feelings. He looked more upset than I felt. “But it’s so pretty! Thank you so much!”

I could tell he was disappointed. He had been so sure it was the same one. I told him it was a beautiful coat, and though we could try to exchange it, I would still be happy either way.

It was a stroke of luck to find that the original coat was still there when we returned to the department store. The style that my husband had accidentally picked up was placed directly behind it on the rack. Years later, seeing that coat in my closet still makes me smile.

Though our Christmas morning gift exchange didn’t go quite the way we’d expected, the truth is that things often go awry in life. Our expectations can foster or block our ability to feel true contentment with what we have.

It’s one of the reasons I understand Joseph’s situation in the Christmas story. After all, if any character in this account exemplifies what happens when reality doesn’t match our expectations, it’s Joseph. Granted, his experience involved much more serious life decisions than my coat mix-up, but it’s often the little things that help us to see greater truths.

Scripture tells us that Joseph was a godly man. He and Mary were engaged to be married, meaning they had entered a formal betrothal. This only occurred after the groom submitted a contract (written or oral) to the bride’s family. The couple was considered engaged once the bride’s family agreed to the terms. The engagement lasted a year and wasn’t easily dissolved.

In those days, Joseph’s actions would have held a lot of power. So when he found out about Mary’s pregnancy, his response could have had serious consequences. Understandably, Joseph would have wanted to consider his options carefully. After all, he was a righteous man in the Messianic line—descended from Abraham and David, among others—and would have been seeking a wife with the same level of righteousness.

Suppose he were to expose her to public shame. In that case, adultery had always been treated harshly in those times. In Judea, for example, the punishment for the woman was death by stoning—even when she was only betrothed and not yet married.^a

Instead, Joseph chose the middle ground of breaking the engagement quietly, in which case a “writ of divorcement” was necessary. Since the writ would use vague language that didn’t specify the reason for the broken engagement, Joseph could settle the matter without exposing Mary to further disgrace.^b

Of course, everything changed when the angel visited Joseph, explained what was going on, and asked him to take Mary as his wife. By the time Jesus was born, Joseph was fully committed to his new family. I love how Matthew 1:25 notes the intentionality of Joseph’s role: “And Joseph named him Jesus.”

That doesn’t mean that Joseph didn’t continue to recalibrate his expectations. Instead of starting a life together with just him and Mary, they would immediately have a child. Not only that, but the whispers of doubt that clung to Mary and Joseph’s reputations probably lingered long after Jesus was born. Joseph’s expectation of pursuing a quiet life without others’ judgment was likely long gone. But in its place, what an adventure Joseph must have experienced with Mary and Jesus! Raising the Son of God would have been a parenting endeavor unlike any other.

Though you and I have not faced Joseph’s circumstances, we’ve likely experienced the burden of expectations, both our own and other people’s. It’s easy to have an idealized view of how family gatherings should occur, what topics of conversation can be covered, or even what kinds of gifts should be given. But people are messy, families can be broken, and the world’s problems don’t go away just because it’s December.

Yet we can hope. Though we can’t dictate our circumstances, we can reframe our expectations. Joseph needed discernment from God—who was not surprised by the circumstances he faced—and we do too. What does this look like, practically?

First, we can approach the Word of God, which has all the wisdom we need. Next, a few questions can help when we’re trying to discern how to reframe a difficult situation: Is there another way to look at this? Is what I believe about it true? Is it helpful? And what “proof” do I have that the worst outcome will happen, anyway?

And lastly, we can pray over the situation, asking a few trusted friends if they’d do the same. As Christians, we are saved by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony (see Revelation 12:11). Even the hard things—especially the hard things—are parts of our story.

Our expectations for good or ill can be fulfilled, but they just as often never come to pass. I’ve felt anxiety over situations that I assumed would go poorly but didn’t, and I’ve been sidelined by hard conversations I didn’t expect to have. But when I take the time to reframe my expectations through the lens of eternity—that this is all temporary, and that’s okay—that mental space makes room for me to appreciate what I have.

Psalm 23:1 reads, “The LORD is my shepherd; I have all that I need.” Though we may not—and likely will never—have all we want, we already have everything we need. In Jesus, we have a living hope that will not put us to shame. Though life will never be perfect, it can be good.

Dear Jesus, thank you for helping us sift through the tangled topic of our expectations. This Christmas season can be full of unspoken expectations, dashed hopes, and missed opportunities. Give us your discernment as we seek to reframe our expectations through the lens of eternity. Give us long-range vision and the reminder that our temporary troubles are not more significant than the weight of your glory. Amen.