“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered.
“May your word to me be fulfilled.” Then the angel left her. (Luke 1:38)
Going a little farther, he fell with his
face to the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. yet not as I will, but as you will." (Matthew 26:39)
He went away a second time and prayed, "My Father, if it is not possible fo rhtis cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done." (Matthew 26:32)
Yesterday morning
(which is when I wrote this) was a hard morning after a difficult night. Dad says
he didn’t sleep at all, which means that my sleep was disturbed. As I walked
the dog, I couldn’t bring myself to go through my usual long list of people,
requesting blessings of love for this one or peace for that one. It’s not that
I’m physically tired at the moment, and I suspect I’ll get a nap later in the
day, it’s just frustrating when you have to get out of bed because someone can’t
figure out what’s wrong the with blanket.
I thought I was going to write about a different passage this morning, but Mary’s situation came to mind. Talk about a Christmas that didn’t go the way it was supposed to! I know they didn’t celebrate Christmas the way we do, and it’s likely that Jesus was born in the spring. That’s not what I’m talking about. Some strange and frightening person shows up one day and says she’s going to give birth to the Messiah. What was she supposed to think? I wonder if she spent a little while thinking that once she married Joseph, then she’d get pregnant and their son would be the one foretold since Eve. That’s not what the angel said. What the angel said meant that Joseph would cast her off, her family would be ashamed of her, and with Joseph, possibly stone her. Her friends and neighbors might shun her. The bastard reputation would follow her son, possibly all his life, and the harlot reputation would follow her. And yet, she not only said, “OK,” but wrote a song about it, praising God for her difficult situation.
Later, Jesus took the same attitude in Gethsemane, when he said, “Yet not as I will, but as You will,” and “may your will be done.”
I haven’t been much for celebrating Christmas, or any holiday, since 2002. Maybe even before that. My first year in retail at Christmas time completely destroyed any interest in the holiday. Since I left retail to care for Dad, I haven’t recovered much of my seasonal joy. My Christmas decorations consist of one string of rope lights that I haven’t turned on, and two glittery snowflakes that have fallen from where they were stuck on some upholstery with pins. The only thing I have that is celebratory is the music. With Dad repeating how he is “lost,” I’m coming to see this winter as the Lost Winter, and this Christmas as the “Lost Christmas.”
I’m not sharing any of this with you as part of a pity party. I’m not looking for pats on the back or pronouncements about what a good daughter I am. I’m just appreciating Mary’s and Jesus’ responses as they faced some big trials. As I walked Grace, I walked with Mary and Jesus, saying, “I don’t want to face this thing, but OK, God.” As we enjoy another Christmas, sometimes it does us good to think about the price paid by those involved in bringing it to us. As we consider what gifts we might give to someone, perhaps we should consider giving permission to God to be our God, to give us the circumstances we don’t want. Others have done it, and we admire them for their connection to some of the greatest events in history.
I thought I was going to write about a different passage this morning, but Mary’s situation came to mind. Talk about a Christmas that didn’t go the way it was supposed to! I know they didn’t celebrate Christmas the way we do, and it’s likely that Jesus was born in the spring. That’s not what I’m talking about. Some strange and frightening person shows up one day and says she’s going to give birth to the Messiah. What was she supposed to think? I wonder if she spent a little while thinking that once she married Joseph, then she’d get pregnant and their son would be the one foretold since Eve. That’s not what the angel said. What the angel said meant that Joseph would cast her off, her family would be ashamed of her, and with Joseph, possibly stone her. Her friends and neighbors might shun her. The bastard reputation would follow her son, possibly all his life, and the harlot reputation would follow her. And yet, she not only said, “OK,” but wrote a song about it, praising God for her difficult situation.
Later, Jesus took the same attitude in Gethsemane, when he said, “Yet not as I will, but as You will,” and “may your will be done.”
I haven’t been much for celebrating Christmas, or any holiday, since 2002. Maybe even before that. My first year in retail at Christmas time completely destroyed any interest in the holiday. Since I left retail to care for Dad, I haven’t recovered much of my seasonal joy. My Christmas decorations consist of one string of rope lights that I haven’t turned on, and two glittery snowflakes that have fallen from where they were stuck on some upholstery with pins. The only thing I have that is celebratory is the music. With Dad repeating how he is “lost,” I’m coming to see this winter as the Lost Winter, and this Christmas as the “Lost Christmas.”
I’m not sharing any of this with you as part of a pity party. I’m not looking for pats on the back or pronouncements about what a good daughter I am. I’m just appreciating Mary’s and Jesus’ responses as they faced some big trials. As I walked Grace, I walked with Mary and Jesus, saying, “I don’t want to face this thing, but OK, God.” As we enjoy another Christmas, sometimes it does us good to think about the price paid by those involved in bringing it to us. As we consider what gifts we might give to someone, perhaps we should consider giving permission to God to be our God, to give us the circumstances we don’t want. Others have done it, and we admire them for their connection to some of the greatest events in history.
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