We have a sweet display of crèches in the chancel of the Third Avenue church. Pastor Mike invited people to share their family nativity sets with the parish this Christmas season. Baby Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the shepherds and Wise Men are represented in various media: from porcelain to plaster-of-Paris, hand-carved wood to hand-cut paper. Most donors have left cards with a story belonging to the crèche. Some are treasured heirlooms, some gifts marking a special occasion. One was made by a group of 7- and 8-year-old boys just for this display. On Christmas Eve, we expect people to wander to the cancel to admire these beautiful depictions of the birth of our Savior Jesus.
As I admire the statues and stables, I notice among the young Marys a common feature. The maiden kneels before the manger with hands clasped to her heart…as if she’s trying to contain the matters of her son’s arrival, protecting all the memories surrounding the pregnancy and birth, keeping back the wonder of the miracle she’s experienced. She looks upon her child with gentle love, but she restrains the awe surrounding this monumental night.
Twice Luke’s Gospel tells us Mary “treasured all these things” (verses 2:19, 51). She set them as valuables in a storehouse, a place of safe-keeping. Verse 19 also tells us that she spent time “pondering them.” Mary reviewed the extraordinary events as most mothers do, questioning the future of her precious child. The word ponder comes from two words that mean union with or together and to throw [down]. In pondering the early events of Jesus’ life, Mary threw around the possibilities together with…? Whom?
With all that Mary had been through—an angel visitation, supernatural impregnation, broken engagement, unconsummated marriage, a 90-mile journey by donkey in her ninth month of pregnancy, and delivering her child in a barn—you’d think she would be prime for an appearance on Dr Phil. Common sense would indicate that Mary should not endure this ordeal in silence. Who could deny her the opportunity to vent, to rant, maybe even cash in on the story? She should have every opportunity to get it off her chest.
But that’s the very place Mary revered her circumstances. Luke says Mary held these extraordinary events in the safest place she knew—her heart. A private spot where she would review each moment and give each situation its rightful importance. Mary pondered these things in her heart, the place where God would join her in conversation.
Mary held all her circumstances in awe. She marveled at what was pronounced about her infant son. It amazed her that God would find her worthy of this sacred experience. Which, of course, explains why she found favor with God. Mary’s humility—the amazement that God would select a young, uneducated peasant girl to bear His Son—marked her as virtuous.
Humility distinguished Mary from other girls and women. It set her apart from many men and leaders of Jewish society. It was not a self-loathing or passive doormat state. Rather, it was the clear conviction that God was the source of any honor coming into her life. Mary knew that we earn no acclaim on our own. She understood that humility is recognition that without God, nothing we accomplish amounts to any good.
In a song of praise, Mary acknowledged God as her source: "For the Mighty One has done great things for me” (Luke 1:49). It was as if she were saying,
“He noticed me! I’m just a girl, but God my Savior has noticed me! I have nothing to offer Him, nothing that proves I am a person of worth. All I have is the quiet of my heart.”
In the quiet of her heart, God noticed Mary. He knew she “lacked” the world’s qualifications for worth: wealth, possessions, physical strength, leadership, education. But God was looking for something unique. He was looking for a heart that recognized its need for Him.
The proud heart has no room for God—it seeks its own glory. Its need is to be known, to tell its own story, to “get it off its chest.” Imagination springs from the proud heart and the story is embellished for the honor and adoration of the world.
How could such a heart be used in the mighty task of mothering God’s Only Son?
The humble heart welcomes God. In the quiet of acknowledging a need for Him, the humble heart joins with God in pondering all He has done. We call this worship—responding to God with quiet and stillness, joining with Him to converse, to ponder.
God noticed the young peasant girl’s modest heart. She responded to God’s call on her life with a willing trust. Despite the seeming impossibility of what He proposed, despite the cost it would surely mean to her future, Mary’s humbled heart was at peace. God confuses the ways of those who are “proud in the thoughts of their heart” (Luke 1:51), but the lowly heart has peace.
Mary had a story to share. An incredible story. But she kept it as a cherished treasure—safe from fame and boasting. Safe from the danger of embellishment. She kept it on her chest—within her heart. She shared it with God…and let Him share it with others.
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