Pondering…

Mary Did You Know…you have no doubt heard that song already this season. I don’t mean to make light of the message of it but the simple answer to the question is – no. No…she did not know.

The song mentions some highlights. Walking on water. Miracles. Tender moments. Events for a mom to treasure in her heart.

The fact is that Mary didn’t know and yet she said to the angel “I am the Lord’s servant…May it be to me as you have said.” (Luke 2:38)

As a Jewish woman at that time, the concept of what the Messiah would accomplish was framed at least in part by a Roman occupation. When the angel reported that the Son to whom Mary would give birth would have a kingdom that would never end, Mary may have had some preconceived ideas of what that would look like for both her son and herself.

I wonder…Mary, if you had known…would you still have said yes?

Let’s consider some of the happenings in Mary’s life that didn’t make it into the song.

First – no room in the inn. A stable, a barn, a cave – whatever it was, to call that a humble beginning is an understatement. And then the first visitors – not town officials, not family, not religious leaders…just a bunch of stinky shepherds…it is after this we are told that “Mary treasured up all of these things and pondered them in her heart.” (Luke2:19)

I imagine that Mary pondered more than just that one time.

I get ‘pondering’.

When I ponder, sometimes it is with amazement at what God has done or said or shown to me.

 Sometimes when I ponder there is a sense of trying to figure out how things fit together.

Sometimes when I ponder it is with questions, doubt and uncertainty…did I really hear from God?

When I look at how Mary’s life unfolded, I wonder if she experienced all these types of ponderings too?

Mary & Joseph take the infant Jesus to the temple where they meet Simeon who rejoices at the sight of Israel’s deliverer. He blesses them and then turns to Mary and tells her that “a sword will pierce your own soul too.” I wonder how much Mary pondered that…

Years later, Jesus is ministering to the people and Mary tries to see him. When Jesus is told that he says “Who is my mother and who are my brothers? Pointing to his disciples he said “Here are my mother and my brothers…” (Matt12:48, 49)

That had to hurt just a bit…is this what blessed and highly favoured looks like…or is this again the sword piercing your soul…I would be pondering…

Then we see Mary at the foot of the cross. I can not even imagine her pain…I can not imagine the emotional agony of that scene. We read it and know the outcome…but for Mary who carried and gave birth to this one…this one now broken and bleeding on a cross… to remember that greeting from the angel more than 30 years before… I wonder if the memory of that greeting now seemed a little hollow…even mocking…

No… Mary did not know…

Mary… if you had known, would you still have said “May it be to me as you have said”?

We all have before us the opportunity to say “May it be to me as you have said.” And in that declaration, there is the challenge of continuing when we do not know…when we do not know how it all fits together…when we do not know or we doubt if we have really heard God’s voice…and even those times when we are amazed by how God is moving and wonder why and how he will use us…

We see Mary again – in the upper room with the disciples. This is after the cross, after the resurrection, after the ascension…and now Mary is with the others…waiting…

I can imagine that Mary was still pondering…and what a life to ponder!

And yet – not just pondering…also going forward.

As I type this, Christmas is almost here…and I must spend some time pondering that and what that means…

Soon after Christmas the New Year is upon us…and that too lends itself to pondering…looking back over what was and ahead to what will be…

Are you challenged by Mary’s words? I am. It means I will be willing not to know. It means I will be willing for things to unfold differently than I thought they would. It means I will be okay with things I do not understand.

“I am the Lord’s servant…may it be to me as you have said."

Ruth U.

The Newborn Jesus

“I kiss your tiny fingers and little perfect head,

Lay you in the manger that tonight will be your bed.
Tomorrow you will be King,
But tonight you are my baby.”
- Jeannine Q. Norris, from Tonight You Are My Baby: Mary’s Gift

Last Christmas, I had a 6-week old baby and I gained an entirely new perspective on the humility with which God came and lived among us. I remember looking at my newborn in awe, wondering at Mary’s thoughts and feelings as she navigated the experience of a young first-time mother to a demanding newborn.

Newborns are messy. They are loud. They are exhausting and helpless and completely dependent. As we sing “Away in a Manger” and “What Child is This?” we celebrate the God who came to us in the most unassuming and unlikely way. We sing about the Creator of the Universe who also spit up and pooped and needed his mommy. How amazing is this?! And what does this mean??

What does this mean for those of us who are bound to this human frailty? Who struggle and muddle along day to day? What are we to learn from this about ourselves and our fellow travellers in the world?

In Bible College, I had a professor who said something that I will always remember: Everything we learn in Scripture about Jesus’ life has something to teach us about what it means to be human and how we reflect God through our human experience. Jesus’ humanity speaks about our humanity, and about how God interacts with us IN our humanness. Jesus’ humanity also speaks to us about how to see the people around us through God’s eyes.

As I’ve reflected on this truth in light of Jesus as a newborn baby, I think about my own helplessness and neediness. I think about how different I am today than I was at the beginning of my journey in relationship with Christ. I think about how much I need care and understanding and gentleness from the people around me. I am sensitive and I am fragile. I am growing, but slowly, and with many faltering steps. I need patience as I try and fail, as I seek understanding but often get it wrong…

I’m so grateful for Jesus, who understands these needs, who knows the hesitance and awkwardness of being human. I’m so grateful for God’s gentleness with me, for guiding in tenderness and without frustration as I try and try and try again…  I am humbled by a God who doesn’t demand that I “get it together” and be “fixed” and be a perfect follower all at once.  Instead, there is a Divine Generosity and a grace that allows me to grow in grace and understanding from a “newborn,” gradually changing through ongoing relationship and trust with God and with the people God brings into my path.

I am also prompted to think about how the newborn Jesus challenges me to think differently about other people. How often I am impatient and rush to judgment about where others are (or should be) in their journey with God. How tempting it can be to form assumptions and expectations about how “grown up” others should be when it comes to matters of faith and morality. In the Gospels, we witness Jesus’ development from infancy to youth to adulthood.  His humanity is present in his growth.

As I seek to reflect Jesus in my daily life, I long to cultivate the gentleness and grace with others that God offers to me. I know how long my journey has been, how arduous some stages of struggle have been, and how grateful I am for God’s mercy and patience. I pray that I am able to extend this same mercy and patience with others who are on their own journey. Sometimes miracles happen all at once and change happens overnight. More often, though, change happens slowly. Awareness grows and we gradually become ready to be changed. And, in fact, some of the most profound inner work happens in that process of moving toward readiness. Much happens beneath the soil, in the darkness, before we see the sprout push through the surface of the ground.

My prayer is that we would see the gift of Jesus’ humanity in a new way. Would we reflect on our growth (both physically and spiritually) from newborn. Would we be grateful for the grace we are extended as we grow. And would we offer this same grace to others who cross our paths, trusting that God is moving even when we cannot see change.

Arlene M.

Aprons

Tis the season for busyness in the kitchen! As I am not even in the top three of the talented cooks in my family, what I end up making more than anything is a mess. I really should wear an apron.

When I think about aprons (and – yes – I have actually done that!) I think about two styles.

I remember my mom wearing the smaller version – the kind that just tied around her waist and basically covered her skirt. I really only remember that she wore them on Sunday as she was preparing Sunday lunch after church. This was also the garment on which I learned to iron. (Yes, young one, iron. It is a thing. Google it!) Perhaps that is why this style of apron is not my favourite.

I do like the full aprons – the ones with a strap that goes around your neck and that covers your entire front. These are the ones I remember my grandmas wearing – not just on Sundays but pretty much whenever they were in the kitchen. These are the kind that I should wear.

Susanna Wesley was the mother of John & Charles Wesley and their 17 siblings. That makes a total of 19 children. Nine of those children died in infancy. Susanna’s husband Samuel was a pastor who was often away for extended periods of time which included a stint in jail for failure to pay his debts.

Susanna, often on her own, bore the responsibility for her children’s education – she home-schooled which included lessons in Greek and Latin.

Susanna, often on her own, bore the responsibility for her children’s spiritual upbringing teaching her children the necessity of scripture and prayer.

This was a busy woman!

It has been written that Susanna had committed to spending an hour in prayer for every hour she spent on entertainment. Having given birth to 19 children and having almost sole responsibility for raising the 10 who survived infancy, there was obviously no time for entertainment so Susanna resolved to spend two hours a day in private prayer.

Again with such a full household where was there a place for private prayer? When would there be a time for private prayer?

This is where we get back to aprons. Susanna wore an apron. The story is told that she told her children that when she pulled her apron over her head that it meant she was in prayer and was not to be disturbed.

This was a woman committed to prayer…committed to her own relationship with God…regardless of the busyness of the day…

This is a lesson I need to learn and relearn.

“Come near to God and he will come near to you.” (James 4:8a)

This is a lesson for the busiest of times…maybe especially for the busiest of times…

While it is true that God is always present, He longs to draw close to each of us in a personal, intimate relationship. And yet in that, He waits for each of us to stop what we are doing and just come to him.

Even as I write this I question how to make this fit into my day. Especially today. Especially at this season.

My mom and my grandmas tied on their aprons as a protection for their clothes. I think that Susanna pulled her apron over her head as a way to insure her heart was protected…that her relationship with her Saviour was protected.

We will protect what we truly value, won’t we?

Don’t wait for your New Year’s resolutions.

 Don’t wait for next week when things have slowed down.

 Don’t wait to do what you need to do to spend some time alone with God…to pray…everyday…

Find your apron.

Ruth U.