Wilderness Wanderings

'And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace' (Luke 1:76-79)

His whole life Zechariah had known "the word of the Lord". He had heard it spoken at the table and in the synagogue and at the temple. And he himself had spoken it countless times to God's people as they gathered at the temple, in the synagogue and possibly at his own table. Those same people had sought him out in his home and in the streets to impart to them the wisdom of 'the word of the Lord' so they could live righteously before the Lord.

And then he was silenced. Nine months.

In that silence, a lifetime of scriptures, prayed until they were lodged in his bones, collided with the new word of God spoken by the angel Gabriel. When Zechariah finally opened his mouth that Word of God tumbled out, filling the air, being heard by family and friends gathered for the name day of his son. Gathered from various places, every phrase he uttered familiar, and yet, filled with new meaning.

In those nine months of silence, it was not just Zechariah's home that was being filled with new life. His heart too was being soaked with new life, the dawning of spiritual light. Yes, light. As Zechariah looks at the child in his arms and the swelling of Mary's womb, he recognizes the fulfillment of Isaiah's word from God that 'light was dawning.'

And his son was charged to be the herald of that light, preparing the way for the Lord. His son would have the privilege of bringing the knowledge of salvation. That salvation would come, of all means, by the forgiveness of sins. Light would dawn first in the hearts of women and men and children and youth; they would experience the tender mercy of God in their own hearts. God would shine his light in the darkness of the human heart, and it would be beautiful, every time.

This God-sent king, whom Zechariah's son would announce, rules like the morning sun. His way of life and his path to peace is not a matter of coercion or the controlling use of power. It is a matter of character. That is why it begins with the forgiveness of sins, reconciling us with God. Though entry into it takes but a moment, salvation is not a passing event. It is a lifelong journey of the heart, guided by our allegiance to the Morning Star, who goes before us showing that the way to reflect God is to refract his character in ever-growing ways.

For nine months Zechariah was silent. In that silence, he discovered that life is not found in our power or in "taking control." Rather, it is in following the one who is in control. Salvation is a matter of the heart and following the one who is the source of light. It is not found in convincing people of their sinfulness, but in pointing them to the light, the Prince of Peace. The only road to righteousness and peace, even for a righteous man like Zechariah, is to be prepared to see the light and follow it.

Among all the lights that decorate our homes and neighbourhoods, we often lose sight of the true light of Christmas. Jesus is not gone, he has not been taken out of Christmas, he is waiting quietly for us to notice him so that he can dawn in our hearts anew and fill us with his light of peace.

Though you walk in darkness, may you see the great light. Though you live in a land of deep shadows—may you see light! sunbursts of light! May God increase your life, expand your joy. May you be glad in his presence! May God give you the joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings (cf. Isaiah 9:2-3 MSG).

His father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied: "Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, because he has come to his people and redeemed them. He has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David (as he said through his holy prophets of long ago), salvation from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us— to show mercy to our ancestors and to remember his holy covenant, the oath he swore to our father Abraham: to rescue us from the hand of our enemies, and to enable us to serve him without fear in holiness and righteousness before him all our days. (Luke 1:67-75)

For three months, Mary had stayed with Zechariah and Elizabeth as Elizabeth entered the late stages of her pregnancy. Was Mary still there when John was born? Was she still there when Zechariah sang? Maybe. I'd like to think so. Luke doesn't say for sure, but the timelines he gives us certainly leave the question open! (see 1:36,56)

Even if Mary wasn't there anymore: Zechariah was still full of quiet ponderings from when she was. He had had nine months to ponder the meaning of John's coming birth. He'd had three months to ponder the meaning of Mary's news of her child to be named Jesus.

Zechariah the priest knew his scriptures. And now he had a window into the secret, silent workings of God through these parallel pregnancies changing the world within his own house. He of course heard what Mary and Elizabeth thought of it as they talked and prayed it through. I'm sure he interacted with them too through his raised eyebrows, smiles, and nods. But Zechariah himself could only talk it over with God in the silence of his own heart and mind.

In that silence, a lifetime of scriptures prayed, lived, and lodged in his bones collided with this new, life-giving work of God in the wee humble community of his home. What did it all mean? A grace of God named John to prepare the way of the Lord, followed by an heir to the throne of David to be called by a name meaning "The Lord Saves."

In the silence, Zechariah's world and theology were transformed by this new work of God. It was objectively the same scriptures he had always known, but given this new work of God that he now subjectively experienced: those same scriptures resonated with a different tune, but admittedly one that rang with a truer harmony.

Zechariah erupts into Spirit-breathed, scripture-bathed prophecy that could easily be mistaken for any number of Psalms. And it is a prophecy not so much about his own son John, as it is about Mary's son Jesus—the one who would be the salvation of Israel, the end of all fear, the redemption of relationship, the fulfillment of prophecy, and the long promises of God, kept.

God is sovereign. He does new things. Good things. With Zechariah, will we be silent enough and humble enough for long enough to listen, learn, and have our worlds transformed in light of the work of God? If so: songs of joy like these, are ours.

Zechariah wrote, "His name is John." Immediately his mouth was opened, and his tongue set free, and he began to speak, praising God (Luke 1:63-64).

We left Zechariah speechless at the temple. When the birth of John was announced to him, he could not believe it, so the Lord gave him a sign for reflection: He would be unable to speak until all was fulfilled. Then he would know that God does what God says. Our text picks up the story some nine months later. Much has changed.

Zechariah has changed. As a righteous man, he has learned from his mistake. Through the pain of the discipline, he emerges a stronger man of God. He testifies to God's grace. Those who are arrogant, thinking they know it all, have no need for God or for instruction. Zechariah is not one of those.

While Mary and Elizabeth have much to teach us about faith in God, so does Zechariah. He is portrayed as a mature and pious man who still has much to learn about trusting God. He is a spiritual man who discovers we can never coast on past spirituality.

Often, we are tempted to put our spiritual well-being on cruise control. Christians can get to a place where they do not expect anything new from God, no new calling, no new spiritual insights, no more maturation. It is a joy to see an elderly saint who lives in expectation of knowing the Lord more fully and serving Him more deeply. What an encouragement such a person is to a younger saint. How thrilling to meet those who see their walk with God as a challenge and that the thrill of divine involvement in life has not waned. It causes one to desire to keep on keeping on.

Zechariah reveals that even good old saints can still grow up and learn to walk in deeper trust with God. That simple lesson comes to the fore in his naming his child John even though others want to name him something else. The whole family and the whole neighbourhood have come for the event. As Luke tells the story, they have taken charge. They want the boy named after his father. But Elizabeth objects. However, but she is just a batty old woman. That is not the way we do things around here. So, they turn to the boy's father, the whole crowd of them, "Zechariah, junior, right?"

Nope.

His whole family (and his in-laws) and his whole village are standing in his way. But Zechariah will walk where God tells him to walk. The pressure of custom will not become a reason to disobey God. Peer pressure and the attitudes of the world can often make us act in ways that differ from where God would take us. Whether in values, entertainment, or the way we do business, the world's ways are not God's ways. Zechariah has learned to hear God and not the customs of the world.

During the months of Elizabeth's pregnancy, while God's promise was slowly coming to pass, Zechariah was learning that God makes good on his promise in his own timing and in his own way. He has learned this lesson, and his obedience becomes public, "His name is John" which means, "graced by God." Zechariah has been graced by God. And he is delighted.

Though you walk in darkness, may you see the great light. Though you live in a land of deep shadows—may you see light! sunbursts of light! May God increase your life, expand your joy. May you be glad in his presence! May God give you the joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings (cf. Isaiah 9:2-3 MSG).

He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever, just as he promised our ancestors." Mary stayed with Elizabeth for about three months and then returned home. (Luke 1:51-56)

Here in Mary's song lies a dangerous heart-of-the-Gospel thread that ought to rightly make us uncomfortable.

It is a thread that runs throughout the Bible. It perhaps begins in the story of Cain and Able as God asks Cain the question "where is your brother Able?" "Am I my brother's keeper?" Cain replies. "Yes, you are," God's response seems to say.

In the Old Testament, this idea is enshrined in law. "Love your neighbour as yourself" says Leviticus 19:18. Many other laws go on to spell out the implications in defence of the place and the cause of the poor, the orphans, the widows, and the foreigners. You are your brother's keeper. Your sister's too.

But sin is pervasive. The poor and weak are continually used and abused by the rich and powerful, even as Able was slain by his brother. In the course of time we come to the book of 1 Samuel, which Luke patterns his gospel after. After Hannah gives birth to Samuel and dedicates him to the Lord, she sings not such a different song than Mary will. A song that declares the great reversals that the Lord's justice will bring. The warriors are broken, but the weak are made strong; the full starve and the hungry are filled; "The Lord sends poverty and wealth; he humbles and he exalts." That's a song that echoes not only with Mary's song, but with Jesus' own oft' repeated refrain: "The last shall be first, and the first shall be last."

Why should this make us uncomfortable though? Because we are the first. We are the rich.

I am the rich one that might just be sent away empty. Maybe the proud one and the ruling one sometimes too—the one who needs to be scattered and brought down in order for justice to be done: for the poor to be released from their bondage to the needs of my lifestyle, the resources of the Creation to be liberated from the over-asking of my consumption.

Of course, we ought not wait for God's judgement to level that playing field: as followers of Jesus, we are actively invited into this song as agents of God's justice. We are invited to humble ourselves, to sell our possessions and give to the poor—even spending ourselves on behalf of the poor: time, talents, and treasures. Indeed: the call is actually nothing less than to die to ourselves, trusting God fully with everything: not just with our souls, but also with our identity, our status, security, and wealth. Our very lives. Is this not what we're actually praying when we ask for God's will to be done and for his kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven: a radical justice that levels out the blessings of Creation so that everyone has enough? A New Creation and a New Humanity that keeps boundaries, brothers, and sisters in mutual love and dignity under the just rule of Jesus—isn't that what we seek?

Maybe that sounds radical. But Jaques Ellul, writing just after WWII, was convinced that nothing short of a radical shift in Christians' lifestyles like this would actually be able to crack through the walls of our culture and create a true, missionary encounter within our own society. I think he's right. Mary in her song seems to think so too.

"And Mary said: "My soul glorifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation" (Luke 1:46-50).

Later, Jesus would say, "Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am with them". Maybe, this little gathering of aged Elizabeth, silent Zechariah, and young Mary was the seed of that declaration. How often did young Jesus ask Mary to tell him about those angel visitations that heralded his coming? How did the telling of the story shift and grow as Mary pondered these things in her heart, responding to the questions her young son must have asked?

But now, as she sat at Elizabeth's table drinking tea and eating hot bread, the realization erupted in song, "God is here, God is at work." She was not crazy; God is doing what God does. Zechariah, Elizabeth, and Mary, if ever there were "two or three gathered in his name" it was these three, pondering together the wondrous mystery God had them involved in.

And so, Mary sings. God was mindful of her humble state, aware of her and her low place in society. She could have been just one more nameless, faceless peasant girl from an unnoticed little village. But God noticed her, called her by name and gave her the most unique place in the history of all mothers. What can she do but sing!

She invites us all to take God at his word and be amazed at his involvement with the details of our lives. God owes us nothing; but we who have trusted Christ owe him everything. As the child leaped in Elizabeth's womb, so should our hearts leap in us as we consider the many blessings we receive. God does what he says, and he has promised us much.

Mary invites us to expect a reversal of fortune and a deliverance. Whatever our lot in this sinful and fallen world, those who fear God can expect vindication. For all those who are marginalised by the world. For all those who are left to fend for themselves, without any security for tomorrow. To these Mary sings and says, "There is hope. Look what God has done for me: a poor unknown young girl from an unknown town from a forgotten family of King David, God has visited me."

And that is how God works. And Jesus showed this over and over: just ask the widow of Nain, whose son he raised from the dead; just ask Mary the prostitute; just ask the lepers; just ask the blind and the deaf; just ask.... To all like these Mary says, "Don't give up hope. Put your trust in God. Put your trust in Jesus.

His promise is that he will lift the humble and pull down the arrogant and the proud. As these three (Zechariah not having much to say) talked, Mary recognized that through the son growing in her womb, God would bring peace to the world. This peace would only come when the arrogant were removed from their thrones.

Mary's song is one of hope. Of faith. This is what God is doing through Jesus. In church language, it's called the Magnificat. Find some versions and listen, again and again. Let the words fill you with hope and inspire your faith. The good news of Christmas is that during a great darkness there came a light, and the darkness was not able to overcome the light. It was not just a temporary flicker. It was and is an eternal flame.

Though you walk in darkness, may you see the great light. Though you live in a land of deep shadows—may you see light! sunbursts of light! May God increase your life, expand your joy. May you be glad in his presence! May God give you the joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings (cf. Isaiah 9:2-3 MSG).

A Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text of Revelation 5 & John 20:21-23. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

Dive-In:

1. How do you usually respond to the question, "Did you have a good Christmas?"
2. What two offices of the incarnation have we focused on so far?
3. What is the priestly office? What does the story of Genesis 3 invite us to ponder?
4. What should we see in the Lamb? What are some of the things the book of Hebrews tells us about this Lamb? What is the motivation of the Lamb?
5. How do Christians live out their priestly office? Decide on two things that you will do this season to fulfill this calling.

At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, where she entered Zechariah's home and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice she exclaimed: "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!" (Luke 1:39-45)

Upon receiving the news that she would give birth to the Son of God, Mary packed her bags and hurried to Elizabeth's house. Ever catch that? She hurried! And very, very strangely, there is no indication that anyone went with her on this journey. What on earth is an unmarried girl doing running through the hills of Judea all alone in the ancient times of the Bible? That's a three-day journey on foot through hills filled with robbers like the ones from Jesus' later parable of the Good Samaritan. No wonder she hurried.

But even if she traveled in a more culturally appropriate way—like, not alone—there is probably more to her sense of hurry than just the danger in the hills.

She had just heard that she was favoured by God, that God was with her, and that God had chosen her to bring life into the world that would bring all God's promises of life to the whole world. Somehow or other, she managed to say yes to all that. But as Pastor Michael noted yesterday, it was not so much a yes of "I understand and I'm ready" as a yes of "I will trust and follow even though I don't have it all figured out." Then the angel left her and just like that, it was all over. What a surprising and confusing revelation!

Heart pounding and face flush with excitement, confusion, or maybe just adrenaline, Mary packs her bags and hurries out to the only words that did make sense to her in the whole thing: her relative Elizabeth. Old, wise, faithful Elizabeth. If there was any peace be found to calm her pounding heart and nerves and make it all real, surely it would be found in the home of Elizabeth.

Ever wonder why God chooses two people that happen to be related to one another? Why didn't God choose women who were perfect strangers to each other to be the mothers of John and Jesus? No answer is given, but I think he did it to honour their humanity.

God not only chose to need Mary's willing participation, care, and nurture to birth and nurse his cosmic salvation plan to life, but He also chose to create a context within which Mary herself could be cared for and nurtured within a human community of those who could sympathize and understand these strange, supernatural happenings together with her.

I mean, come on: Zechariah had been struck speechless and post-menopausal Elizabeth was in her third trimester. Nothing made sense in their house either. What better people to put on a pot of tea and welcome this confused, pregnant-out-of-wedlock teenager than them?

And indeed, upon Mary's arrival and through a Spirit-powered baby kick, Elizabeth bursts into that same kind of wonderfully odd and exuberant act-of-God-talk that reassured Mary that she wasn't crazy. This was a work of God after all. She had heard it right. She could exhale now and drink it all in. This was a time for joy and singing…

God was knitting together home and hospitality, a loving context of grace within which His grace could be birthed into the world. This Advent, remember that the nurturing gift of human community and hospitality—as simple as an understanding conversation over coffee or tea—is precisely the context within which God births His promised gift of life into this world.

"Though you walk in darkness, may you see the great light. Though you live in a land of deep shadows—may you see light! sunbursts of light! May God increase your life, expand your joy. May you be glad in his presence! May God give you the joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings" just as Mary & Elizabeth did! (cf. Isaiah 9:2-3 MSG)

"How will this be," Mary asked the angel, "since I am a virgin?" The angel answered, "The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So, the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail. "I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May your word to me be fulfilled." Then the angel left her. (Luke 1:34-38).

Among the various ways to reflect on this angel visitation, pondering Mary's response is beneficial. Even though the events that take place with her are unique, her attitudes and response are held up within the narrative as worthy of praise and emulation.

She is honored by God not for her own merit, nor for what she has done, but because she is the chosen vessel for this display of God's grace. This is a beautiful thing. God choose her simply because. She is the person whom God unexpectedly chooses to use, bringing no outstanding credentials to the task. Living on the edge of the nation, she brings nothing on her résumé.

Many of us live with this nagging sense that we are unusable, that our résumés too thin. God will have none of that. He created us! Though we may be marred and broken by sin, we are never beyond repair. Nor are we ever beyond use for his purposes. We wonder how salvation will overcome all the obstacles of sin, ignorance, and defiance that we place in its path. Like Mary, we ask "how will this be" that God troubles with such a wretched, self-centred, inconsistent, and spiritually impoverished person as me? God just smiles saying, "Watch me!"

Like Mary we may initially resist when God comes calling. But we are invited to move from fright to willingness. When she says, "I am the Lord's servant. May your word to me be fulfilled," Mary is not saying, "It's so clear now! I get it!" nor "I love this plan and I'm excited to be part of it." She is saying, "I have many questions, but I will follow."

This is an important space for us to occupy. Some of us refuse to move toward Jesus unless it all comes together for us—rationally, emotionally, and personally. It is either rapturous joy in God or nothing at all. But often we can only do what Mary does—submit and trust despite the fears and reservations. That gives us a foothold for moving forward.

"Let it be to me as you have said," Mary concludes (38). This was no simple matter. She is being asked to bear a child as an unmarried virgin. In joining God and his redemption plan, she will probably become the object of much doubt and ridicule. Still, as God's servant, she will allow him to work through her as he wills. He can place her in whatever difficult circumstances he desires, for she trusts him.

The apostle Paul invites us to make this our permanent posture towards God. To the Galatians, he wrote, "Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit" (5:25). We do not, in fact, we cannot know where the Spirit may lead us. When we cannot see how God can use us, God says, "Watch me!" When we do not know where we need to go, God says, "Trust me!"

Take time this Advent to sit with Mary. See her move from "What on earth" to "Alright Lord, I will trust you." And let the Spirit lead you on the same journey.

Though you walk in darkness, may you see the great light. Though you live in a land of deep shadows—may you see light! sunbursts of light! May God increase your life, expand your joy. May you be glad in his presence! May God give you the joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings (cf. Isaiah 9:2-3 MSG).

Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob's descendants forever; his kingdom will never end." (Luke 1:29-33)

Mary was troubled. Not at the angel's appearance, but at his words. What a strange thing. The words Mary is responding to were part of our text yesterday. These words from the angel: "Greetings, you who are highly favoured! The Lord is with you!" These are the words that made Mary greatly troubled.

But Mary's reaction is strange, not just because these were actually quite nice words, but also because usually people are frightened by the sight of the angel, not the content of the angel's speech. Most folks cannot hear what the angel has to say until after they are reassured about the angel's frightening appearance. But not with Mary: there is an odd receptivity in her from the start. Her eyes are open and ready, and so are her ears. She is ready to hear and attend to the voice of God.

But she is not well prepared to be so unquestioningly received by God. This is what greatly troubles her. That she is favoured and that God is with her: that's what gives her pause and sends her mind reeling.

I think many of us can relate. We are content to think of ourselves as naught more than lowly servants, certainly no one to be paid attention to. Some of us consider ourselves to be lowly, sinful worms: unworthy of God's attention. Still others of us consider ourselves to be a bit on the outside. Rebels with a few questionable habits, activities, and places we hang out. Folks who like to have fun and not take life too seriously: certainly not of the pious, inner-circle sort.

What a shocking surprise then when an angel shows up at some random time in the middle of the week to say: "Greetings, you who are highly favoured! The Lord is with you!" Can you imagine? What if he just popped in on you at work? At school? In the living room watching a movie? At the pub playing or listening to some live music?

And yet, those are exactly the sorts of words that God does speak to us at just the oddest of times. Through the work of Mary's newly announced son, Jesus, we have now all become daughters and sons of God. So the Lord is with us. He does favour us highly: even loves us. Unconditionally. Black sheep and white sheep, the shame-filled and the drifters: all of us he loves just the same.

Mary would have to be told a second time for it to sink in though. And if attentive Mary needed to hear it twice, then I'm sure we do too. Maybe three times even. "Do not be afraid; you have found favor with God."

I don't know if you noticed it, but all the saving promises of Jesus have already begun slowly seeping into the story. "The Lord is with you" the angel says. Why, in these words Mary has already receive the promise of Immanuel, "God with us." And finding favour with God—in these words, Mary has already received the promised chosen-ness soon to be realized for us all in Jesus' work.

Slowly the good news of the gospel has begun seeping into the story: not just in future promises, but also in Mary's lived reality. I hope this good news also interrupts you today and begins seeping into your story in just that way: in the midst of whatever you're doing, as you hear and know that these words are also for you: "you who are highly favoured—the Lord is with you!"

In the sixth month of Elizabeth's pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin's name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you" (Luke 1:26-28).

Last week, we met Zechariah in the holy place in the temple in the city of Jerusalem, the centre of Jewish religion and culture. Everybody who was anybody, eventually found their way to Jerusalem and its temple. Elizabeth and Zechariah were introduced with their pedigree, title upon title. That is where we expect good things to come from. That is the kind of place we expect God to go to announce his coming redemption.

However, the initial visit of the angel Gabriel only introduced the herald of salvation, the one whom we know as John the Baptist. How can God improve on Zechariah and Elizabeth, both righteous and both descendants of Aaron? To which greater place can Gabriel go to announce the Saviour?

The second part of Luke's story can hardly be more different. The contrast is extreme. Gabriel is now sent to the obscure village of Nazareth of Galilee. If ever there was a place that was no place, it was Nazareth. Isaiah had described it as a "land of deep darkness" and its people as "walking in darkness" (9:2).

Zechariah was immediately named, and his status given, but not this second recipient of angelic visitation. This person is introduced as a virgin pledged to be married. Understand what this means, her parents have arranged for her to be married. She is in that between stage, between her father's house and her husband's house. We are not given her name until we have grasped that she is nobody from nowhere. A person without status. When she walks the dusty streets of Nazareth, nobody notices and no one of importance greets her.

This humble setting of the Saviour's announcement reveals the nature of God's plan and the character of God's heart. God loves those who are humble in spirit, non-pretentious, willing to live outside the limelight. Even his Son, as the King of Israel, the Promised One of all time, is born of a humble, country maiden. This humility is an attitude that we as his children should possess.

We rightfully expect great things from God and might anticipate that he will work through those we consider great. But God shows his greatness by working with anyone on the street who is willing to be used by him. Spiritual greatness is not a matter of social class, monetary clout, or degreed background. Spiritual value is a function of the heart. God's approach stands in contrast to the type of credentials our world looks for and honors. Externals count for little with him; other issues matter much more.

When God's promises are ripe, they keep bursting into new fulfilments that no one can manage. She was nobody, this Mary. She was from the land of darkness–Nazareth of Galilee. She was Mary Nobody from Nowhere. Yet, the angel greets her, "Hello, favoured one, the Lord is with you."

God's Son, the forever king, came to the world by the power of the Holy Spirit through Mary Nobody from Nowhere. God's Son still comes to the world by the power of the Holy Spirit through the church. He never calls us to greatness, rather to humility, gentleness, and patience, and to bearing with one another in love (cf. Ephesians 4:2). As is also written, "The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love" (Galatians 5:6).

Though you walk in darkness, may you see the great light. Though you live in a land of deep shadows—may you see light! sunbursts of light! May God increase your life, expand your joy. May you be glad in his presence! May God give you the joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings (cf. Isaiah 9:2-3 MSG).