Mary's family was from Nazareth as well. As was the custom of our day, I followed the normal three steps in making her my wife.

First came the arrangement, made many years earlier. Her father and I agreed that when she came of age, she and I would be married.

Next came the engagement, when Mary turned twelve years of age. I was well into my thirties by now. This may seem strange to you, but it was simply our custom. For an entire year we were married legally, but not sexually. She continued to live in her parents' home while I lived in my house. We were commanded by God's law to remain pure sexually, until our marriage would be completed. If I had died during this year, Mary would have been called "the virgin who is a widow."

Then finally would come the completion, when I took her from her parents' home into mine and we became husband and wife.

This year of engagement began with great excitement. We were making plans for our home, our family, our future. I had waited many years for this time, and finally my patience and faith would be rewarded.

Then came the most terrible news of my entire life: Mary was pregnant.

I had kept myself pure sexually all these years, and don't think I wasn't tempted or didn't have other options. The least I expected of Mary at her young age was that she would do the same. And she had seemed so saintly and godly all across these years, so pure and innocent. I was shocked beyond words. But facts don't lie. My engaged wife, my love, was pregnant. And I was not the father.

Now I had the decision of my life to make.

Matthew in his Gospel calls me "just" or "righteous" (Matthew 1:19), which means "one who keeps the law." He was right--I tried my very best to be obedient to the word and will of God. As a result, I could not marry Mary. Even if I wanted to put this shame and betrayal aside, I could not do so legally. The rabbis forbade it. She had committed adultery, and our marriage could be no more. God's law was clear.

This fact left me two options. I could divorce Mary publicly. I could call her and her family before our entire town, accuse her of adultery, and divorce her before everyone. In fact, I could even have her stoned as an adulteress (Deuteronomy 22:13-21; Leviticus 20:10).

Or I could divorce her privately. With just two witnesses, I could go to her house and declare us divorced, then pay the fine to the priest and be done with her.

Either way she would be destitute. Her own family would probably disown her, she would raise her child on her own, and she would live in shame. But God's will had given me no other options. Or so I thought.