Nearly two thousand years ago, the angel Gabriel visited a backwater town in Galilee. He appeared to Mary, a young woman betrothed in marriage. He brought news of her future: she would bear a son. This is no simple birth announcement, however. The angel recites a litany of praise for this new baby, Jesus. He will be called the Son of the Most High, a King who sits on the throne of his father, David. He will reign over Jacob’s descendants in a kingdom that will never end (Luke 1:26-33).
After hearing this incredible pronouncement, Mary answers, “I am the Lord’s servant, may your word to me be fulfilled” (Luke 1:38). While Mary accepted this revelation with enviable faith, the story also mentions her “great trouble” at the angel’s words. Before this visit, she expected an ordinary life. She would marry Joseph, live near her family, and have a few children along the way. A simple existence in a quiet town. Gabriel’s announcement changed everything.
In light of this news, Mary sought support. She hurried to visit her cousin Elizabeth, a woman experiencing her own miraculous pregnancy. Elizabeth believed Mary’s story. She responded with adoration, blessing both mother and child. Even the baby in Elizabeth’s womb “leaped for joy” in the presence of his Savior.
But both women knew that not everyone would have this joyous reaction to Mary’s pregnancy. There would be rumors and rejection. Mary might lose her engagement or face the harsh discipline of the Law. It is no surprise that Mary stayed with Elizabeth for three months before returning home. The realities of motherhood are as brutal as they are beautiful. It is not easy to be the oldest mom in the neighborhood or the teenager pregnant out of wedlock, even if that task is assigned by God. These women found community and comfort together.
This sisterhood, however, could not provide answers for their most pressing worries. Would Zecheriah talk again? Would Joseph still marry his bride? Would their communities accept them? There were no further angels sent with the minor details. Yet, it seems these women were able to trust in God’s promises (Luke 1:45). Not promises for acceptance or ease or even long life, but the promise of God with us, Emmanuel. Before his birth, they already adored Him.
We have our own questions about God’s calling on our lives. What does it mean to remain faithful when your marriage feels dark? What will happen if you open your home to foster care? How do we stretch our budget to give to those in need? Will the medication work? Will our family be healed?
Christmastime reminds us that we do not need all the answers. Adoration does not require us to understand (or even like) every aspect of God’s plan. We can feel lonely, depressed, bored, discontent, or confused and still appreciate God with us. Adoration is a choice—a choice to celebrate who God is and who He has become to us. The Savior of the world has drawn near.
This year, as Guatemalans raise a cup of ponche at the Christmas Eve feast or as the church bells ring out at midnight in Chicago, may we offer our love to Christ the newborn King. He alone is worthy.
Come, you who are weary and heavy laden. Come, you who are confused and afraid. Come, you who have had your perfect plans upended by God’s wisdom. Come, you faithful and unfaithful, saint and sinner. Come, and adore Him.
