This afternoon I was washing dishes when my daughter came down and sat on the stairs. Our townhouse is split-level, and the stairway runs into the kitchen, so she often sits there to talk to me or play her guitar or pet the dog while I'm in the kitchen. This time, though, she had a purpose.
As soon as she sat down, she said, "Mom, I have a problem with the Bible."
To be honest, I was a tiny bit concerned. I encourage independent thought, but I also tend to take Jesus' word for stuff, so it seemed like a couple of core values were about to hit head on.
"Okay..." I said neutrally, waiting for explanation.
"Well, you know how Herod made everyone go to the place they were from to be counted?"
"Mm hmm..." I'm thinking maybe this isn't so dangerous after all. We all knew Herod was a bad guy, right?
"Well, I don't think Mary and Joseph were from the same place, but they were traveling to the same place to be counted."
I didn't laugh. Instead, I said seriously, "Well, they really only counted the men. If Mary was counted it would have been as part of his family."
"Ah," she said, and then there was a pause. And then she said, "Mom, I have a problem with the Bible."chil