Reflection
How tender Mary’s heart was. How full it must have become as she treasured up all that was happening and pondered them. The surprise of Gabriel’s visit, the weight of the words he gave her, Elizabeth’s God-given understanding, the words Mary herself gave back to God in song, the faithfulness of Joseph.
And also, the consequence of God’s promise growing heavier in her body every day; her waist thickening with this promise, the skin of her belly stretching tight with it. She would have found her hands hovering protectively over the baby in her belly. Her own, and not her own. And then Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem in some small sliver of a room, making do, making use of what was at hand and laying her baby, the King, to rest where animals fed. The surprise of the shepherd’s visit and their worship of her son. The feel of the sharp point of a sword as it began piercing her heart.
The rescue from the dark reign of sin and death. The dread of exile, the yearning for freedom, the heart’s desire for a country called Home and its eternal King, all have their end in him, the baby who grew in her belly. The Mighty Hand of God revealed. But not like she may have imagined – with a flashing sword, and an army of soldiers. Instead, in the tiny flailing fist of her baby boy lying in a manger.
Hearts are mysterious things. Finite in physical measurements, yet, with each treasure that God gives us to have and to hold and to ponder, the space grows, stretching to eternity.
Prayer
Joy to the World, the Lord is come!
Let earth receive her king.
Let every heart prepare Him room,
And heaven and nature sing.
Joy to the World, the Saviour reigns!