I didn’t ask for any of this: Reflections on Joseph, Disruption, and the Next Faithful Step

On Super Bowl Sunday, I stood up to preach in the same shirt I’d worn two weeks earlier.

That wasn’t the plan.

In fact, very little in the last few weeks has gone “according to plan.”

Our church lost a dear sister, Glenda, who went home to be with the Lord. Some of you walked into worship full of joy; others walked in just trying to make it through the week. And somewhere between Seahawks chatter and jalapeño poppers, we found ourselves opening Matthew 2 and sitting again with Joseph—the quiet man in the Christmas story we usually move past by January.

But this time, we didn’t meet Joseph at the manger.

We met him on the run.

And as I’ve sat with this passage as a pastor and as a fellow disciple, I’ve realized: Joseph’s story has a lot to say to people whose plans keep changing, whose hearts are breaking, and who are just tired of having to adjust… again.

Which, if I’m honest, is most of us.

“I wasn’t looking for any of this.”

Joseph didn’t go looking to become a Bible character.

He wanted a normal life: a trade, a home, a wife, a future. Instead, he gets an unexpected pregnancy, a visit from an angel, a radical call to trust God, and the responsibility of raising the Son of God in a world that is anything but safe.

Two weeks ago, we talked about how Joseph responded rather than reacted when Mary’s pregnancy came to light. Instead of anger, revenge, or self-protection, Joseph chose gentleness, trust, and obedience.

But in Matthew 2:13–23, we see something that we don’t usually say out loud:

Sometimes obedience doesn’t make life calmer.
Sometimes obedience makes life more complicated.

“After the wise men were gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. ‘Get up! Flee to Egypt with the child and his mother…’” (Matthew 2:13)

No comforting preamble this time. No “don’t be afraid.” Just: Get up. Flee. Go now.

Imagine waking your spouse in the middle of the night:

“Hey… we need to pack up and leave the country. Now.”

That’s not a devotional moment. That’s panic, adrenaline, and a thousand unanswered questions.

Yet Joseph obeys. Again.

And his obedience doesn’t remove the danger; it moves him through it.

That distinction matters. Because many of us carry a quiet assumption: If I follow God, life should get more stable. And when it doesn’t, we wonder if we’ve done something wrong—or if God has.

Matthew gently tells us: no. Sometimes obedience puts us right in the middle of disruption.

A world that is not safe—and a God who doesn’t look away

After Joseph and Mary flee to Egypt, Matthew shows us one of the hardest scenes in the Gospels:

“Herod was furious… He sent soldiers to kill all the boys in and around Bethlehem who were two years old and under…” (Matthew 2:16)

Innocent children are murdered. Families are shattered. Grief floods the region.

Matthew doesn’t try to explain it away. He doesn’t soften the horror. Instead, he reaches back to Jeremiah and lets lament have its full voice:

“A cry was heard in Ramah—
weeping and great mourning.
Rachel weeps for her children,
refusing to be comforted,
for they are dead.” (Matthew 2:18)

Scripture refuses to pretend the world is safer than it really is.

And as a pastor, I am deeply grateful for that.

Because I sit in rooms where diagnoses are given, jobs are lost, marriages fracture, and caskets are closed. I hear the “this isn’t how it was supposed to be” that lives behind a lot of our polite Sunday greetings.

Matthew doesn’t tell us why every tragedy happens. He does something different: he shows us where God is when it does.

Not distant. Not indifferent. Not caught off guard.

Present. Guiding. Speaking. Staying.

One dream at a time

If you trace Joseph’s story in Matthew, you see a pattern:

First dream: Take Mary as your wife.
Second dream: Flee to Egypt. Go now.
Third dream: Return to Israel. Herod is dead.
Fourth dream: Don’t stay in Judea; go to Galilee.
Here’s what stands out to me:

God never gives Joseph the full blueprint.

No master plan. No timeline. No “Here’s how this will all work out; here’s how many years you’ll be in Egypt; here’s the political situation you’ll face next.”

Just the next faithful step.

Take Mary.
Get up and flee.
Go back.
Actually, go here instead.
As a guy who would love a detailed spreadsheet from heaven, that is both frustrating and freeing.

Because it means this:

God’s guidance is often incremental.
He gives enough light for the next step, not the entire journey.

God’s presence is constant.
Emmanuel—God with us—is not a Christmas-season slogan. It’s the ongoing reality of a God who doesn’t wait for life to settle down before He draws close.

Faithfulness doesn’t require certainty.
It requires trust and obedience in the present moment.

Joseph doesn’t know he’s fulfilling ancient prophecies. He’s not thinking, “Well, this will really help Matthew 2 come together.” He’s just trying to protect his family and obey God, step by step, in a dangerous world.

That’s discipleship.

Nazareth: Ordinary, unstrategic, and exactly where God led

The last detail in this passage is so easy to skip:

“So the family went and lived in a town called Nazareth. This fulfilled what the prophets had said: ‘He will be called a Nazarene.’” (Matthew 2:23)

Nazareth is not glamorous. It’s not strategic. It’s not Jerusalem. It’s not Rome. It’s a small, ordinary town.

And that’s where Jesus grows up.

Sometimes God leads us forward into things that look big, impressive, or clearly “impactful.”

But often, God leads us back into what is ordinary, familiar, and seemingly small:

Back to the same marriage that needs slow, faithful work.
Back to the same job where you’re trying to be a light.
Back to the same neighborhood, the same town, the same daily routines.
Not as punishment.

As formation.

Nazareth is where Jesus is formed. Ordinary places are where Christ is formed in us.

Where this touches us: disruption, uncertainty, and fear

As I look out over our congregation—and as I look at my own life—I see most of us living in one (or more) of three spaces:

A place of disruption
Something changed that you didn’t choose. You’re thinking, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Illness, loss, a broken relationship, a financial crisis, a shattered expectation.

A place of uncertainty
You’re trying to be faithful, but you don’t have the clarity you want. You don’t know what’s next. You’re waiting on answers, and they’re not coming quickly.

A place of fear
You’re either afraid of what might happen, or you already sense what the next step is—and you’re afraid of what it will cost: your comfort, your reputation, your control, your opinions about how things “should” work.

If that’s you, Joseph’s story speaks a steady word:

God may not give you the full plan.
God will give you the next step.
And He will not leave you alone while you take it.
Emmanuel is not a stationary promise.

God is with you:

In disruption.
In uncertainty.
In fear.
In grief.
And in the very next step of obedience He is asking you to take.
The question I’m asking our church (and myself)

At the end of the sermon, we sat in silence around a single question. It’s the question that’s been working on me as a pastor, a husband, a dad, and simply a follower of Jesus:

What is the next faithful step God is asking me to take right now?

Not the ten-year vision.
Not the five-point plan.
Not the outcome you can’t control.

Just the next faithful step:

A conversation you need to have.
An apology you’ve been resisting.
A habit you need to release—or one you need to begin.
A call to serve, give, forgive, reconcile, or risk.
A willingness to move—or a willingness to stay.
Often, that next step will feel simple.
That doesn’t mean it will be easy.

And if you genuinely don’t know what your next step is, that’s okay too. Sometimes God reveals it over time as we keep walking with Him, listening, seeking wise counsel, soaking ourselves in Scripture, and showing up in community.

My encouragement to you—as your pastor and as your fellow traveler—is this:

Don’t underestimate the power of one small act of obedience.

Joseph’s story in Matthew 2 is not glamorous. It’s not a highlight reel. It’s a series of hard, costly, ordinary acts of trust in the middle of danger, grief, and constant change.

And through that quiet, steady obedience, God was doing more than Joseph could see.

He still is.

Wherever you find yourself today—in disruption, uncertainty, or fear—may you know:

God does not promise an easy path.
He does not promise a path that aligns with our expectations.

But He does promise His peace.
He does promise His provision.
And He does promise His presence.

Emmanuel.
God with us.
Right here. Right now.
All the way through.

And as we walk together as a church, my prayer is simple:

That we would not be people of quick reactions, but people of deep response.
That we would not be people who demand clarity before we obey, but people who trust the One who walks with us.
That we would take, together, the next faithful step He sets before us.

One dream at a time.
One decision at a time.
One ordinary “yes” at a time.