Advent Day 8
~Luke 1:36-45
Why does the angel mention Elizabeth? I think it's twofold: to give evidence for the miraculous and to give community with which to walk in it.
We are not alone in the story God is writing, and He doesn't want us to walk through it in isolation.
God gave Mary someone to walk the miracle with. Joseph was called to walk alongside her, but her cousin Elizabeth shared the very experience of a miraculous (though different) conception. Gabriel tells Mary this, giving her evidence of his word but also drawing her to a friend. When we don't think others will understand what we're going through--whether it's good or bad--we can become isolated and disconnected, not feeling like we really have anyone to share it with. But God brought two miracle children to people in community with each other. God knew how people would react to Mary's pregnancy, and He offered her a place of safety with her cousin to embrace the miracle--and any ebbs and flows of belief--in community and to see evidence that "no word from God will ever fail."
And under all of this, Mary responds with humility. She does not voice concern for the difficulties the miracle would bring or boast in the glory of her favor, but in her humility she recognizes that her life belongs to God and bows to His mission and purposes. Before anything else, she recognizes her position as a servant of God and accepts His promise.
And then she sets out to see Elizabeth. She was active and intentional like her cousin, but where Elizabeth withdrew in worship, Mary draws into a community that's tuned to the Holy Spirit.
From Mary's very greeting John leaps in the presence of Jesus and the Holy Spirit fills Elizabeth. What keeps us from leaping when the presence of Jesus surrounds us? What distractions cause us to miss the Spirit's movements? Where can our pride keep us from being overcome with the emotion of it? Where can the unresolved emtions we have towards God bar us from seeing His movements?
How can we live as tuned to the Holy Spirit's movements as a mother is to the kicks and leaps of the baby inside her womb? And how will we respond?
What I notice here is that Elizabeth doesn't start with sharing the Spirit's movement but sandwiches it in a blessing. She speaks life over Mary. She affirms her favor and blessing. She rejoices. She is humble. And she does not share what God did in isolation from what He is doing. Elizabeth cannot share Mary's blessing without proclaiming a piece of who God is and who we are in Him.
Many do not believe God will fulfill His promises. We get caught up in what we see and know, in what is immediately before us and what we can predict. Our unbelief is shown daily in the prayers we choose not to pray or never even think to pray. But even the prayers we pray over and over are hard to accept. We don't want to be disappointed or we're too insecure to see God working in our lack. We hold our fears closer than His blessing or we want to control our own story. Or maybe we just don't like what the fulfillment of God's promises requires of us.
But even when we do believe, it can be hard to hold onto the blessing. Our doubts and fears creep in and cloud our vision of the promise. Which is part of what makes community so important. The right community reinforces the promise. We need a community that recognizes God's hand and speaks life over us, and we need to be that voice for the community around us.
We can also learn a lot about our relationship with God through Mary and Elizabeth's dynamic here.
Elizabeth speaks this blessing with reverence. Though she addresses her much younger cousin, she recognizes her as the mother of the Messiah. Mary and Elizabeth have familiarity with each other, but that familiarity does not undercut Elizabeth's reverence just as her reverence does not diminish their familiarity.
It can be easy to see these two as opposites--you're one or the other--but our relationship with God is about both. Reverence's awe is not cold and distant. The intimacy of familiarity does not exclude the potential of hierarchy. We can have intimacy with our parents while still acknowledging their authority. The two can go beautifully hand in hand, but we have difficulty living them out. But what if feeling the depths of God's sovereignty, humbly submitting to it, and being in awe of Him was not a destroyer of intimacy but a natural curator of it?
God became flesh, but He did not stop being God. Rather, He kept all of His authority and still existed in loving relationships and deep familiarity with those around Him.
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