12.23.07
Two Days Before….
I started writing this on Friday, sitting in the New Orleans airport, en route from
Houston to home. But, as usually happens, I didn’t finish it. And so here it is, the
Sunday before Christmas. A busy, but nice day is winding down, and it’s time to
wish everyone a blessed and Merry Christmas.
Despite all of the commercialism, this is still my favorite time of year. I didn’t get
into the decorating mood this year for some reason, but then, I wouldn’t have
been here to see them much anyway! This year, I’ve been thinking a lot about
Mary, the mother of our Lord.
We don’t worship her, of course, nor do we venerate her to the level that some
have. After all, she recognized her own need of a Savior (Luke 1:47) If she knew
that people prayed to her today, I’m confident that she’d be aghast at such a
thought. So no - we don’t worship her, but we sure must honor her.
Chances are that Mary was very young when the angelic messenger gave her
news that would rock her little world. She might have been as young as 14….
Imagine how you’d feel at being told that God had chosen you - a virgin girl -
to carry, and deliver, His only begotten Son. To be unmarried and pregnant
in her day was a desperate scandal. She and her betrothed husband, Joseph,
had to flee to an unknown land, right at the time she needed the love and
support of her family the most. This was no light task that God had asked
her to do. But the God Who had watched her, knew her; He knew her piety
and her purity. And yet, read Luke 1:38 - Mary showed obedience in her
Identification as God’s handmaiden. She showed it in her obedience to the
desire of almighty God - “So be it…” And, she showed obedience despite
the solitude forced on her, as the angel, after leaving the message with her,
departed. This was no ordinary young girl, this Mary. But that shouldn’t be
any surprise to us. God wouldn’t have chosen any ordinary girl, would He?
Mary’s song, or Magnificat, found in Luke 1:46-55 is a lesson in maturity at
a young age. Wisdom beyond years. To read it is to be left in awe. I think
it would be a good series of lessons for us, to read this section again.
But, what has hit me the hardest this Christmas season, has been the story
of godly Simeon, as the little family came to him on Temple Mount. A man
whose life had been lived to see the Messiah, got his wish, and actually
held God in his arms. Did he truly realize that while he was holding that
eternal baby, the baby was actually holding him? In Luke 2:34-35, Simeon
addressed Mary, ending with unusual words: “Yes, a sword will pierce through
your own soul also”. This was a prescient prophesy, without doubt.
Imagine raising the perfect child in your home. I’ve often thought that it
must have been hard to have been one of Jesus’ brothers, or even his
sister. How many times do you think Mary or Joseph must have said to
their other children “Why can’t you be more like your brother?!” Imagine
a child who never went through the “terrible two’s”, adolescent rebellion,
who never needed correcting, never talked back. The perfect child, the
perfect son. When it appears that Joseph died, Jesus would have taken
over the carpentry shop, and was the principal provider for the family.
No doubt, He was a grand worker and provider. Those would be heart
strings hard to cut, but the day came when Mary had to cut them. It
had to be a soul-piercing. So would it have been when she watched her
Son begin His ministry, only to be largely rejected. I’ve thought a lot
this week, of His last week…a triumphant entry to Jerusalem, for the
One whose face had been set for the events there like a flint. And yet,
within days, betrayal, rejection, a mock trial, a rabble crowd crying
“Away with this man - we will not have this man to reign over us.”
(But oh - He will, one day. He will) Every event of His last week, a
sword to the heart. But God wasn’t nearly finished yet.
We all know that Mary had to have waited through that last night,
heart shattered, for the first sight of her eternal Son, when he was
released from the soldiers’ cruelty. How must it have been for her,
when she first saw Him, her unrecognizable Son? Battered, bruised,
beaten unmercifully, wearing a man’s spittle, beard torn out. A crown
of thorns, a scourged back. I’m already writing in tears, but God was
not done yet….
How many mothers have to witness their Son’s execution? No matter
how many times that promised sword had pierced her soul already, it
was time now to turn the hilt. And so, He was led out to Golgotha;
considered not just a common criminal, but the worst of three who
would die that day…the one on the center cross, “Jesus of Nazareth,
The King of the Jews”. Mary had to hear the hammer’s blow, and the
thud of a tree trunk as it seated in its socket. For three hours, she
listened to the taunts, the mockeries, and had to stand in desperate
wonder, how anyone could say such things about her perfect son.
And then, for three last hours, the Light of the World was covered
in a darkness blacker than any midnight. I have much that I want to
learn from Mary in Heaven one day, and if I ever get the chance to
ask her but one question it will be this: “Mary, as the darkness came,
did you inch your way to the cross? Did you stand underneath Him,
and did you ever reach up to touch his nailed feet? Did you ever
whisper softly up to Him ‘I’m still here, Son’?” How could a mother
ever reconcile sinless perfection being made sin? Did God give her
a little window into eternity, to allow her to see all of the sons that
one day He’d bring to glory through His vicarious sacrifice? I wonder.
She heard His selfless cries, and the interchange between her Son
and a dying thief. Did it help to ease her pain? I think about these
things so often. We do know this - she heard His triumphant cry,
and with a mother’s intuition, she probably knew the instant that
her Son dismissed His spirit. The sword had done its damage, and
couldn’t hurt her anymore than this. Her Son…born to die. And
now, He was dead. To quote the hymn writer, “Say while lost in
holy wonder; why oh Lord, such love to me. Even me.”
Had Mary’s story ended there, ours would have never begun. But,
as He’d prophesied so often, He arose. Hallelujah!! Mary got to see
and hold her grown baby Son again, to see the wounds of the nails,
and to hear His eternal voice. The last time we read of her, in Acts
1:14, she’s in an upper room in Jerusalem, with the disciples - and
her formerly unbelieving younger sons - as they meet for prayer.
Her Son was ascended, and like us today, she - and we - await
that moment of final triumph and victory.
A long journey from girlhood, and a manger. A long time since the
angels proclaimed “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace,
goodwill to men.
In two days, we’ll celebrate again the birth of God’s Son. The One
Who was born to die, that we might live. His birth was solitary and
in the most humble of surroundings. His life was one of relative
obscurity. His three years of ministry changed the course of human
existence. His death was one of ignominy and shame. But His resur-
rection was a thing of eternal triumph. So will His coming be to the
air. And this year, even before 2008 rolls around, we might be in His
very presence! Maranatha!
From my family to yours, Merry Christmas….
Alan