“THE GOD BEARER”
Scripture Lesson: Luke 1: 26-38
Dr. Matthew Brown
Maybe it was because she was so young. In reading this story we do not cease to be
amazed that God would approach this unlikely juvenile candidate to be the
bearer of the divine. Our surprise only
swells when we read about this culture so foreign to us where it was the common
practice for girls 11 or 12 to become engaged/betrothed.
The silken photoed engagement announcements in our Sunday
morning paper speak of young women educated at the finest schools in the land
who are already engaged in work that has taken them to exotic places and given
them weighty responsibilities. She’s a
teacher, a lawyer, a bank examiner, an engineer. And yet, it could be that Mary was at an age
when we would be hounding her to remember to brush her teeth as she whines
about wanting Diesels instead of Wranglers.
Engagement? Betrothal? At that age, saying you “like” someone for
more than a week constitutes a long term relationship.
Does it make sense to entrust the messiah, the savior to her
care and nurture? Does it compute to choose an adolescent to be the one to
introduce the savior of the nations to His world? One moment she’s chastising him for not
looking for chariots before he crosses the road and the next moment he’s feeding
five thousand with one hand and stilling the storm with the other. Is one so young, so inexperienced, so lacking
in worldly sophistication the best pick for such a monumental task?
We never cease to be amazed that God would, out of all
possible profiles, choose someone like Mary.
And yet, maybe it was because she was so young. As someone in our Bible study this week so
perceptively suggested, in a way it makes sense. You see, at that age there is still an
openness, spontaneity, a willingness to act, to choose before dissecting every
possible permutation and consequence. At
that age, you are still willing to consider the possibility that an adult would
say something worth hearing and assimilating.
Another year or two later the arms are crossed, the frown is fixed, the
cloud of skepticism is forever blocking any rays of adult wisdom.
O, not everyone becomes so cynical, so soon. In seminary I had a great and trusted friend
nicknamed Mongo for reasons we won’t delve into today. Mongo had a great laugh and made marvelous
company because if you ever said anything even modestly humorous, he would
laugh and smile as though it was the funniest witticism ever uttered. It was like having Ed McMahon riding with you
whenever you went out.
And so, if you were headed out, even if it were just to go
to the convenience mart for such grad. school staples as Cheese-Its and other
preservative rich, hermetically sealed, plasticized snack products, you wanted
Mongo to come along for company. And you
could always count on Mongo to go with you.
He was a monument to spontaneity.
“Let’s go skiing.” “Let’s go to
“Sure, I’ll go.”
Mongo’s only hesitation would be the time it took to get his coat and
keys.
But in that way Mongo was a bit of an aberration. As the years draw us to the age of majority
we become learned in the art of calendar coordinating and social
side-stepping. “O, I’d love to but I
have a previous commitment.” “Thank you
so much for asking, but I have to leave town the next day.” “It’s an honor to be considered, but I must
decline so that I can focus on my work.”
“Can’t we just be friends?” “I’m
sorry, but I have a dentist’s appointment.”
“Let me think about it and I’ll e-mail you by tomorrow.”
We become masters at avoiding encumbrance. I’m not committing to anything until I have
the chance to completely over-analyze it.
If you see me just staring at a shelf in the grocery aisle, you can bet
I’m most likely over thinking yet another purchase. “Did she want the sweet cherries or the tart
cherries? And was it Comstock, Luck’s or
the store brand? What’s the expiration
date on the can? Is that one in the back
newer? And hey, the label on this one is
a little different. Did it come from a
different place?”
We live in an age when commitment is a fear fomenting
idea. A few years ago there was a
landmark sociological study exposing the decrease in the level of involvement
in any number of organizations and activities.
Entitled “Bowling Alone” it examined decreasing commitment in everything
from the Rotary Club to the church to the bowling league. We are a people wary of committing ourselves
to a particular purpose, mission, challenge much less the purchase of a can of
cherries. I guess life really isn’t a
bowl of cherries.
Put me in Mary’s position and the angel would have given up
in disgust and headed back to the home office.
“He can’t even decide which baked beans he should buy. How’s he going to commit himself to this?”
Maybe it’s because Mary was so young that she was tapped for
this task. She had not yet wrapped
herself in the insulation of rationalization and excuse. Where doubt and skepticism and fear and
self-interest so hinder our capacity to heed the call to faith, Mary’s response
is characterized by a word with which we are so uncomfortable - obedience.
God calls and Mary says yes when we would be asking to see
an annual report and a long range plan.
God calls and Mary says yes, haltingly - already sensing that this is
one heavy assignment - but yes, nevertheless.
And here’s the difference. We
tend to look at everything in regards to the opportunity - What’s in it for
me? What is the cost/benefit ratio? How will this affect my resume? What’s the time commitment? I’ll participate but I won’t lead it.
Yet Mary places before us an alternative model. It wasn’t about the opportunity. It was who asked.
It wasn’t as though Mary had been born for this, every step
of her life preparing her for this moment.
I had a college roommate who knew at the age of eight that he was going
to be a sportswriter. When I was a third
grader out pushing a Tonka truck in the
Are we so willing to answer the call to discipleship?
Years ago here in
He hadn’t had much of a chance to sit in the back of a
sanctuary and as he looked at his former congregation, he realized he had never
seen the back of their necks. He noticed
something peculiar. He couldn’t help but
see how all their necks seemed to stiffen in church. Reflecting on that moment, he would say, “We
all have ways of defending ourselves against the Gospel.”
William Sloane Coffin said, “Many of us Christians who feel
so at home in our churches may, in fact, be miles away from God.”
Maybe Karl Barth said it best when he observed, “Many people
go to church to make their last stand against God.”
What defenses have we mustered in life to protect us from
the call of God? How long before we
realize what William Willimon observed after years of working with students at
Duke? He said, “There are few things
more sad than an uncalled life.”
We gather in poinsettia besotted, candlelit sanctuaries
carrying with us all our doubts and skepticisms and logical reasons that we
should not invest ourselves too heavily in the enterprise of faith unless the
capital gains are sufficiently sizable.
We are armed and dangerous, ready to defend ourselves against the call
of God and the Gospel. And we hear a
surprising story of an adolescent girl who considered not the opportunity cost
but only who was asking the question.
It is said that Martin Luther saw three miracles in Christ’s
nativity: “God became human, a virgin
conceived, and Mary believed.” Luther’s
biographer says that in Luther’s mind, the greatest miracle was the last.
It wasn’t because of the opportunity. It was because who asked. What about you?
Maybe Mary was called because she was so young and her heart
so warm and her neck so loose. Maybe we
should pray, regardless of our age, that our “mature” hearts have not grown too
cold or our necks too stiff.
Amen.
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