Raspberry Iced M

(Nobody else probably will find this interesting, but I’ve had my meds today, and I’m feeling good. So here goes…)

A few months ago, I did a deep dive into the genealogy of Jesus. I wanted to know – from a historical perspective – how Adam became a baby in a manger.

On first read, the long lists of names are impossible to pronounce – and they’re even harder to focus on. I wondered why they mattered.

So we have Adam – the first man. The beginning of humanity.

Then sin. Shame. Separation.

But instead of scrapping the whole thing and starting over, God begins a thread. A lineage. A promise that progresses generation by generation, even as humanity stumbles throughout history.

From Adam comes Seth.

From Seth comes Enosh.

And the line continues through people we know almost nothing about, other than their names.

Nevertheless, these people weren’t small. Every name carried the promise in a forward motion.

Through Noah, the world is preserved.

Through Abraham, the promise is spoken.

Through Isaac and Jacob, it is passed down.

Through Judah, it takes shape.

Through David, it becomes royal.

And God still wasn’t finished.

So, now, when people talk about how God never planned for divorce, or blended families, or dysfunction, I laugh internally. Because that’s not what the Bible says. If this lineage were about perfection, it would be a very short list. Instead, Jesus’ ancestors include people who doubted, people who lied, people who made devastating choices, outsiders, and women whose stories were unconventional. There’s no such thing as a polished family tree…which, in my mind, makes God’s initial plan even more remarkable…because it means that the story of redemption was never dependent on perfect people – only on a faithful God.

In the New Testament, two genealogies are recorded. One traces the legal line, through kings and authority, and the other traces the biological line, through ordinary generations.

Two different paths. One destination. Both leading to the same child.

And after waiting and hoping and carrying the promise forward, Jesus is born. Not in a palace. Not into power. But into a family line that had been carefully, intentionally preserved from the very beginning.

From Adam to Abraham. And from Abraham to David. And from David to a carpenter and teenaged girl in a small town.

Nothing rushed. But nothing accidental either.

It’s easy to look at our own lives and feel like things are random. Disconnected. Like days blur together without much meaning.

But the genealogy of Jesus tells me a different story. It reminds me that God works across generations, not just in moments. I’m reminded that faithfulness matters, even when it’s small. It means that ordinary lives fill an extraordinary purpose. And it means that our inability to see the plan does not eliminate the plan altogether.

Every name mattered. Every life contributed. Every step brought the story closer to fulfillment.

So what started for me as a history project (under the duress of A.D.D.) ended as a reminder that God has always been writing a story that spans far beyond what we can see.

And if He was intentional then, He is no less intentional now.

My life feels so ordinary. Messy. Like I’m just another name in a long line of days.

But so were theirs.

And look what God did with that.