angels

Just a Night…

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

It was Just a Night…

Imagine with me, if you will, what it may have been like for the shepherds on that holiest of nights, so many years ago.

The quiet hillside breathing silently under a clear, star-filled sky; the sound of their flocks settling in, like they always did, with murmurs, rustlings, and scrabbling with the occasional noisy bleat of lambs fussing for a warm spot next to the fluffy ewes.

Shepherds, ever watchful and alert, yet calm and ready for a typical, peaceful night. Perhaps they, too, scoot in close to the warm, fuzzy sheep as the night deepens and the air cools and chills.

Quiet conversations around a small fire and a simple meal, perhaps? Jokes and a recounting of the day wan and fade as the night falls deeper and silence blankets the hillside.

It was just a night until it wasn’t…

Imagine their quiet night suddenly interrupted by the sky exploding in radiant, holy light and sound, like nothing ever seen before—certainly nothing ever seen by a group of tired shepherds outside a sleepy village on a typical night. The terror and fear must have been palpable, washing over them like a terrible nightmare, until they heard the angel’s voice saying, “Don’t be afraid! I bring you good news of great joy for everyone! The Savior—yes, the Messiah, the Lord—has been born tonight in Bethlehem, the City of David! And this is how you will recognize Him: You will find a baby lying in a manger, wrapped snugly in strips of cloth!”

Add to this amazing announcement, this supernatural display, the addition of a vast host of the armies of heaven praising God and rejoicing at this beautiful, holy, saving gift just given to all people for all time. A gift that will never be fully understood—mocked, ridiculed, and murdered—yet the only gift that will love, redeem, and save your life and mine.

Imagine that first feeling of terror turning to incredible joy, unspeakable love, and supernatural peace that in all its Divine power was quite possibly unbearable—wild and fierce.

I can feel down to my very bones the uncontrollable need to fall to my knees in reverence, awe, fear, and worship before such an announcement! A Savior, the Messiah, the Holy One come to save—a divine encounter with the King of Kings and the heavenly host. The atmosphere must have been sizzling with a supernatural, divine portent.

When the angels departed, did the shepherds stand around arguing about what they experienced? Did they try to explain away this divine encounter with the supernatural as indigestion, an atmospheric distortion, strange cloud formations, or tainted wine? Did they minimize this gift of love so deep that human minds cannot fathom it? No, they didn’t. They believed. They sought out the Savior to see him, worship him, and accept the love gift freely given to them. They accepted it and shared it with others.

I don’t believe they slept much that night. Returning to their now still and silent hillside, I wonder if they spoke. Did they attempt to recount the events they had just witnessed? Did they fully understand the impact of what they beheld in that lowly stable? How does one explain the Divine? I wonder what changes took place silently in their hearts. Mary quietly treasured all she witnessed that night in her heart, and I believe the shepherds did the same.

It was just a night on a hillside with their sheep until it wasn’t.

1. Luke 2: 10-12

Photo credit: Burkay Canatar

December Moon

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

The December night is dark and deep, stillness and chill seeping into bones despite a layering of coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and thick-soled boots.

Footfall is muffled and shushed along the pine-strewn path, boots stirring up the ancient scent of the woods and winter-shrouded earth.

The hush of the forest has a particular sound—not truly silent to the careful observer but full of the rustle, scurry, and purpose of those living in the night. Frigid air gives their purpose a new vigor with warm dens and beds of fern, pine needles, and forest detritus waiting to give shelter.

Deep, full inhalations fill lungs to the brim with invigorating, life-giving air. Oddly, the heavy chill, though it burns and startles, offers peace and affirmation of knowing one is alive and well. Sometimes it takes the cloak of a dark, wintry, forest-y night to bring clarity to the chaos and exposure of living in the light.

Rounding the curve in the path, the stillness of the pond with the shimmery moon-glow trail on the dark water is breathtaking. A path of light and love painted on the water by the brush strokes of One who loves to bring awe, redemption, and delight. Loved. Seen. Safe.

The sound of stealthy prowling comes from the edge of the pond as a night hunter shifts and waits for dinner. Circle of life.

Moving along as the chill ever deepens, the hooting of an owl adds to the frosty night noises—haunting and lovely, it is primitive and wild.

The path around the pond circles back on itself, and my boots head back to the cabin. Thoughts of the cheerful fire in the firepit on the deck and the warm sherpa blanket urge me onward at a brisker pace.

Wrapped in the cozy blanket, Irish coffee in the large Christmas mug warms my cold hands, steam rising merrily as the fire mesmerizes me.

A scrabbling, crunchy noise interrupts my reveries as a creature moves about to the left of the deck, digging through pine needles and foliage for a midnight snack. Curious glowing eyes spy on me. The shadowy outline of a fat raccoon in the faint reach of the firelight watches me until her curiosity wanes, and she moves along.

Leaning back in the deck chair, the stars appear strewn about like so much glitter landing at random points. But nothing is truly random. The night sky is beautifully planned and decorated with patterns and puzzles of light created to lead the ancient traveler.

Frosty breath wafts up as if making its way to the austere moon that guides, watches, and travels the night sky. Fascinating to imagine all the eyes that have looked up in the night for navigation and a sense of constancy in a world that doesn’t always seem that way. A balm to lonely souls, the shining beacon of light makes things feel safer and less chaotic.

The shepherds on that holy and silent night looked up into the same chilled, star-filled sky that I see on my deck as the fire glows and snickers to itself. The same moon watched on as the Holy One became man, as angelic hosts filled the still and starry night with the most awe-inspiring, stunning display of power and love that humankind has ever known.

It is not by happenstance that eyes are drawn upward—seeking wisdom, direction, meaning, safety, love, and blessed peace.

From a cold and silent winter night, filled with moonlight and stars, came the Light of the world. A Divine exchange between Creator and creation. Ultimate gift. Unconditional love. Emmanuel.

Warm bed beckons, and I head inside, mind full of awe as I struggle to comprehend the enormity of the gift humanity was given on that night so long ago.

The old wood stove burns quiet, drowsy warmth. I curl up under quilts and comforters as the light of the moon gently glows through the snug window. Thoughts of angels, joy, and eternity soothe and calm into a restful sleep—a silent and holy night where all is calm and bright under a December moon.

From Divine Appointments…

Photo credit: Martin Mariani

Hope Grove

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Hope Grove

He is up before the sun rises. His camo-colored backpack lies on the backseat of the old, dark blue Jeep. It’s full of water bottles, snacks, a sketch pad, and sunscreen. A few haphazard beach towels and a trusty old blanket are tossed on the floor, below the backpack. The smell of his hastily grabbed cappuccino wafts and swirls around him; it’s a comforting scent and tastes like liquid gold.

He enjoys road trips, especially heading to the forested mountains of the Sierras. He gets an early start to avoid traffic and people. The many laned freeways of suburbia will inch down into 2 lane, curvy mountain roads. The gentle hills give way to the foothills dotted with trees and brush.  Soon he will be in the mountains and the anticipation in his bones is invigorating!

As the Jeep climbs up and up and twists and turns on the winding road, he feels some of the tension leave him. His shoulders drop a little and the tightness around his ears and neck loosen up. He really has been full of knots and worry and vague feelings of frustration.

It won’t be long now. His turnoff is coming soon. He can feel the pull and tug on his heart and body that this mountain trail always conjures up in his soul.

Turn signal on, he eases into the small, wooded, empty parking lot. Yes! He doesn’t want distractions today. He deeply needs to be alone to refresh and get some perspective. Such unsettled emotions plague him lately. They bubble up and at times consume him. Life is difficult right now. How does he get out of this slump? Nothing is going as planned. His big interview was a disaster. He was completely unprepared and the failure of it still reddens his face with embarrassment. High expectations and dashed dreams camp out in his mind. Others in his sphere are successful and fast moving. They are further along than he is, and it rubs, scrapes, and gnaws at his thoughts.

Yet…another feeling has been hanging out in his mind, as well – a rushing sensation that pulses along in his very blood. It’s not unpleasant but unusual. He can’t quite put his finger on it. Deep down he knows whatever it is, it’s calling and beckoning to him; an insistent feeling telling him it is time to get to the mountains.

Well, here he is in the mountains…

He takes in the stillness punctuated by calling birds, rustling trees and the beautiful, blessed silence that is the forest. He belongs here. This is his place. He feels known and accepted by the mountain, the trees, the very scent of warming pine that he loves so much. He takes deep, deep breaths to capture the scent in his lungs and hold on to the scent memory.

Hefting his backpack from the Jeep, he grabs a beach towel. He plans to find a lovely place to sit and become one with the earth and forest for a bit. Maybe he will break out the sketch pad. Downing the remaining cappuccino, he is off to the trail and whatever adventure awaits him.

He chooses a brisk but easy pace for his hike. He likes to feel his blood pumping but doesn’t want to miss a single thing the forest has to show him this morning. It has been a while since he’s hiked here. He wonders if it’s changed; in his heart he hopes not.  He soaks up all the mountain offers him; sounds that only the forest makes – creatures scurrying and fussing in the undergrowth vying for bugs and seeds; loud jays that scold and screech at each other shouting the forest gossip; louder, more defined thumps and rustles that come from a bigger animal making its way over and around whatever is in the way.

All these are music to his ears and a feast for his eyes! Moving gingerly along the path, he notices some random bursts of white hidden among the detritus on the forest floor and snagged along the bark of some trees and bushes. Hmm. Odd. In all his years of hiking forest paths he doesn’t remember seeing this strange white stuff. He stops and waits a moment along a curved spot in the trail.  He looks back and sees that the placement of the white doesn’t seem quite as random as he thought. Was it placed here purposely? That urgent feeling of beckoning and calling is coursing through his blood again. Interesting. “What is this?”, he wonders aloud.

He heads off again, alert this time for more white. He spies it snared on a fallen old pine tree and heads over for a closer look. Oh, it appears to be feathery and light, a bit silky, airy, and so soft.  As he runs this white, airy softness between his fingers, a peaceful feeling of safety and rest settles over him. He senses that he is going to be ok; somehow all is well and will be well.

Not knowing what to make of this, he searches the path in front of him and spies more white as the trail twists and turns out of sight. Senses piqued, curiosity and bravery filling his soul, he travels along this mysterious path that enchants him.

Rounding a bend, he spots a small, weather-beaten sign. It sits on a dilapidated post covered with moss and lichen. Tiny yellow flowers surround the crooked base. The sign says Hope Grove and there is a faded red arrow pointing off to the right. The white, airy material is profuse here at the right-hand fork. He doesn’t remember any of this; is he lost? He does not have that frightened, adrenaline rush feeling of being lost. Oddly, he feels found.

He doesn’t hesitate as he follows the fork to the right toward Hope Grove. He feels anticipation and wait, is that joy? It might be…

There is a small tunnel-like area up ahead where smaller trees and creeping vines, snagged with the white feathery material, make a covered spot over the trail. He moves through and emerges into a lovely little grove of pines. There is a small area of meadow grasses and some wildflowers dipping in the breeze. Fascinating! He moves about this little grove stopping to look closely at the flowers, sturdy grasses, and the light; the lovely, beautiful, soft light. Excited, he finds the perfect spot to toss down the beach towel and sit a spell. His mind is clear and uncluttered. He enjoys the sounds, scents, and beauty. It refreshes him. It is actively restoring him. He feels it, he knows it. His soul and spirit unclench, and he decides to let it all go. Peace. Safety. Rest.

After sitting for a bit, allowing his tired body and battered spirit to breathe again, he opens his backpack, grabs snacks and water, and looks at the sketch pad lying there. It wills him to open it, to capture and fill the pages with what his senses show him, and the grove speaks to him.

Taking in the entirety of the small meadow and grove, he sees a well-worn sign to his left. Hope Grove. The words are written in blue faded letters. Floating off one corner of this aged sign, he sees the white again. The way the light hits it, the way it flutters and moves with the gauzy breeze looks like feathers – white, airy, wispy feathers. Happy and joyful, they beckon and call to him. He is not alone here in Hope Grove. The presence is not sinister; it is a Spirit of joy, belonging, peace and love which permeates this sacred place. It is sacred and intimate. Here he is wanted. There is no expectation put on him because he knows that he is enough. The fear that sticks to him of late falls away. In its place is confidence. Confidence that he’s got this and is right where he needs to be in his life journey. Opening the sketch book, he surprises himself at how deftly, yet simply he captures the light of this place. The way it falls between the pine trees, in stark but gentle beams. The sign is dappled by the rays that penetrate its corner of the grove, illuminating the white feathers in a mysterious, forest-y, and peaceful way.

In between his drawing and snacking, he allows the peace and silence of this grove to seep deep into his spirit, soul, and bones. He will not forget.

As the light and sounds of the forest shift to early evening, it is time to go. He feels wistful as he packs up his things, careful to leave this magical place undisturbed. What he will leave behind him is fear, defeat, expectations, and comparison. What he will take from the grove is joyful determination, confidence, peace, and the ability to rest and enjoy his life journey. He is enough!

Making his way back along the trail he sees that his feathery white guides are gone. He smiles to himself. He knows the way back but needed their help to discover restoration and hope for his tired and restless soul.

Angels

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Have you seen an angel or had an experience that’s left you full of wonder, mystery and so profoundly moved that you know you’ve encountered one? I would love to hear about it!

I absolutely believe angels exist. I believe we encounter them and their divine presence, as they carry out their God-ordained work among us, more often than we realize. We can miss these carefully orchestrated encounters because we are not actively looking for God’s presence, work and movement in our lives. The awe inspiring encounters that we do see and witness, are often minimized to chance and circumstances aligning and planets and serendipity. We are a busy, self-reliant and proud species, we humans. Admitting that Someone greater than ourselves keeps a close and constant watch over our every move, breath and encounter is hard to swallow, when pride slithers in and whispers that we don’t need anyone or anything. We’ve got this all under control. The idea that God already knows and has breathed into existence every single thing that we will encounter, in every moment of our lives is almost too much to bear. It is much easier to be fanciful and think that WE have actually done, seen, figured it all out.

Psalm 91:11 and 12 – “For He will order His angels to protect you wherever you go. They will hold you up with their hands so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone.”

What might an angel encounter look like, feel like, be like? It won’t always be phenomenal, historical, widely broadcast and visible to multitudes of witnesses. It won’t always be a cast of heavenly hosts singing and welcoming the Savior into the world. But it is still divine, miraculous and history making for the one encountering an angel sent by God.

Maybe it looks like an accident that absolutely SHOULD have happened, but somehow, miraculously did not? Or it could be an encounter with a stranger that is so precise, needed, timely and perfect that there really isn’t another option, except for an angel encounter or a God-move that uses a common human to fulfill a divine plan. Perhaps someone shows up at exactly the right time, provides aid and kindness and completely disappears before a word of thanks can be offered; no one else saw or encountered that person, but you and it’s truly beyond explanation; but it isn’t, is it? God commands His angels to be all around and about us every single place we go. No, they are not God and are not to be worshipped, but they are commanded by God. They are about His business in our lives. That brings me comfort, despite the fact that bad things do still happen. Not every sad, tragic, frightening thing is kept from us and that is beyond what I can explain. But, God knows and He sees and He filtering, constantly, everything that touches us.

Several years ago, my son and I were driving on I-5 toward Redding, CA. All was fine and low-key until it wasn’t. A car passing us suddenly lost it’s entire drivers side wheel. It shot straight in front of our car, bounced and flew backwards, heading directly for our windshield. We were in the fast lane, 70 mph +/- with a guardrail to the right and the swerving car with the missing wheel to left. In slow motion, I watched in terror as that wheel was shooting straight at us. At the absolute last moment, it veered completely opposite it’s trajectory path, physically impossible, as if something with an incredible amount of force pushed it, and the wheel hit the guard rail and totally stopped, no injuries to anyone. My son and I would surely have been killed or gravely injured that day, had angels not intervened and brought that spinning tire under God’s control. The divine among us.

Another time, a casual walk in the park suddenly became a very frightening encounter with a stranger intent on harming me. The man and the danger were circumvented and not permitted, as I felt Jesus telling me exactly what to do and say and physically felt His command and His angels’ presence blocking the man and event that was meant for evil. These are but two of the angel encounters, big and small, that I have experienced in my lifetime. Some encounters were meant just for me that spoke volumes and changed everything. Luke 4:10 – “For it is written: He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully; “

I have had angels and their role in our lives on my mind, since Advent, Bible verses and Christmas carols, all speaking to the presence of angels and the encounters with humans over the centuries. It hasn’t stopped, you know; these angel and Christ encounters. I believe they are happening all over the world, all the time, in the mundane and trivial; the frightening, life threatening and the funny; the lovely and the tragic; the victory and the joy. A smile, a kind word and actions from strangers and the opportunities we are given to entertain angels, as we carry out Jesus’ love for others. Hebrews 13:2 “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”

Eyes open, hearts receptive, ears listening. The divine is all around you.

It was just a Night…

~ Extravagant Hope ~ 1 Comment

Imagine with me what it was like for the simple shepherds on that holiest of nights, so many years ago.

The quiet hillside breathing silently under a clear, star filled sky; the sound of their flocks settling in, like they always did, with murmurs, rustlings and scrabblings; the occasional noisy bleat of lambs, fussing for a warm spot next to the fluffy ewes.

Shepherds, ever watchful and alert, yet calm and ready for a typical, peaceful night; perhaps they, too, scoot in close to the warm and fuzzy sheep, as the night air cools and chills.

Quiet conversations around a small fire and a simple meal, perhaps? Jokes and a recounting of the day wan and fade, as night falls deeper still.

It was just a night, until it wasn’t.

Imagine their quiet night, suddenly interrupted by the sky exploding in radiant, holy light and sound, like nothing ever seen before; certainly nothing ever seen by a group of tired shepherds, outside a sleepy village on a typical night. The terror and fear must have been palpable, washing over them like a terrible nightmare, until they heard the angel voice, saying, “Don’t be afraid! I bring you good news of great joy for everyone! The Savior – yes, the Messiah, the Lord – has been born tonight in Bethlehem, the City of David! And this is how you will recognize Him: You will find a baby lying in a manger, wrapped snugly in strips of cloth!” (Luke 2: 10-12)

Add to this amazing announcement, this supernatural display, the addition of a vast host of the armies of heaven, praising God and rejoicing at this beautiful, holy, saving gift, just given to all people, for all time. A gift that will never be fully understood; mocked and ridiculed and murdered, yet the only gift that will love, redeem and save your life and mine.

Imagine that first feeling of terror, turning to incredible joy, an unspeakable love and a supernatural peace, that in all its Divine power was quite possibly unbearable; wild and fierce.  I can feel in my bones the uncontrollable need to fall to my knees in reverence, awe, fear and worship before such an announcement! A Savior, the Messiah, the Holy One come to save; a divine encounter with the King of Kings and the heavenly host. The atmosphere must have been sizzling with a supernatural, divine portent.

When the angels departed, did the shepherds stand around arguing about what they had just experienced? Did they try to explain away this divine encounter with the supernatural as indigestion? An atmospheric distortion, strange cloud formations, tainted wine? Did they try to explain away the best gift ever given to mankind; a gift of love so deep that human minds cannot fathom it? No, they didn’t. They believed. They wanted to seek out the Savior, to see him, to worship him, to accept the love gift freely given to them. They accepted the joy, excitement and love and shared it with others.

I don’t imagine they slept much that night. Returning to their now still and silent hillside, I wonder if they spoke. Did they attempt to recount to each other the events they just witnessed? I wonder if they fully understood the impact of what they beheld in that lowly stable. How can they explain the Divine? I wonder what changes took place silently in their hearts? What did they ponder? Mary quietly treasured up all she witnessed and went through that night in her heart and pondered it often. Did the shepherds do the same?

It was just a night on the hillside with their sheep, until it wasn’t.

“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

Death of a Stronghold

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

I want out of here.  I am so cold.  It’s getting darker. Where did the light go?  The air feels heavy and oppressive.  It’s getting harder to breathe.  I can hardly see anything around me.  I reach out my hands to grasp the door.  My fingers brush across the handle, but it doesn’t budge.  I realize that I’ve been sealed in.  Heavy, awkward looking blocks are stacked in front of the door; seemingly tossed in random piles, but effectively blocking my escape. “Who did this?” I wonder.  I turn around and around surveying this place I’ve built for myself. Funny, I don’t remember it looking so bare, empty and void of life; like a grave.  There is nothing of me in this place.  What happened here?  I try to remember the last time I really saw it as it used to be when I first built it; strong, safe, impenetrable, as it was supposed to be; guarding my secrets.  It was a long time ago.  I allow my eyes to wander around the room and then I see them.  The boxes…a flicker of recognition snatches at my thoughts and the old feelings of terror and pain stir and begin to move toward the surface.  I see memories shimmering inside their tightly bound boxes where I banished them all that time ago.  “No, no,” I cry, “I can’t!”  “I can’t see you!”  Not yet…not yet…

My heart is pounding far too hard.  “I can’t…please don’t make me.” I am frozen, staring at the memories bumping up against the lids of the boxes, straining against the ropes I used to tightly bind them away out of sight.  They have been safely tucked away in this tower of heavy blocks I constructed for them. I worked so hard.

I can’t look at them. I am too afraid.  Then, in the silence, almost imperceptibly, I feel a stirring in the air.  It is like the faintest breeze, buoyant; like a soft feather dancing lightly against my bare skin.  I catch the scent of something wonderful! It smells new, clean and light.  Pure.  I know this scent, but can’t yet place it; it’s been so long since I’ve breathed it in.  In contrast, the stench of death, decay and emptiness in this place is overwhelming, yet cloying and familiar.  My imprisoned soul is drawn to the new, the clean, the light and I search for its origin.  Compelled by something supernatural, completely unexplainable, I find myself moving toward the boxes. I am right there, closer to them than I have been in ages.  Despite the desperate sinuous fear that is crowding me on all sides, I sense a shift in the air. It is lighter and I don’t feel crushed by the weight of it. I smell the beautiful scent again and it gives me courage.  There is a palpable change in the atmosphere now. I feel the gentle, sweet brush of feathers all around me and know I am safe. I slowly let myself be drawn in again. The stench of death and decay is very faint now, replaced by the scent of Heaven coming from the wings and feathers in which I find myself enfolded.  Your voice is huge, powerful and deep, yet gentle, quiet and sure.  “It is time.  Look at them now, child; open your boxes.”  “Only if You promise to stay. I cannot face them alone,” I whisper.  Strength flows into me that I know cannot be of me. I am all too familiar with the sense of my own failed strength.  Your voice reverberates through the very core of my being saying, “I alone am your refuge; your place of safety; I am your God and you will trust Me. I will shield you with My wings; I will shelter you with My feathers.  My faithful promises are your armor and protection.” Yes, Father, yes.

You place the frayed, weathered ropes that bind up my boxes of memories into my right hand.  I still have Your strength flowing through me, so I pull the ropes with all my might.  As the ropes slither to the ground, my memories, carefully hidden and preserved, gently dance and hover above the box tops, bidding me to look at them and release them.  Peace that I cannot understand washes over me and I go to the boxes, Your hand warm upon my head; feathers brushing my cheeks.  I inhale You and deeply breathe in Life.  I lift up my head and welcome the memories, and they come.  I look at each one as they come before me. I weep and cry out as I acknowledge them all; the violence, terror, pain and fear; the cruel words and hateful actions and slowly nod my head.  I feel You hold me tight and whisper to my spirit.  I am startled and struck silent as I feel the sweet warmth of Your tears spill onto my face as You weep for me.  You turn my face upwards and I watch my memories, my pain, my loss ascending to Heaven, where You will take them and re-shape them to be used for Your glory.  “Is it done, Father?” I say.  “What about these walls of heavy blocks you constructed to protect your pain?” “Is it not time to tear that down, too, Daughter?”  “Do you really want to be free?”  You take my hands and turn them over. They are calloused and rough, from all those exhausting years of building my stronghold.  I watch in awe, as Your breath, Your right hand, begins to smooth away the hardness, the deep grooves and scales, revealing new skin underneath, that glows with life, energy and health. New life is here, in this place that was seeped in death and emptiness.  In the next moment, my attention is caught by a sound, unlike anything I have ever heard before.  It starts as a deep, low rushing, and then begins to spiral upwards, like a roar, like a violent storm and I fear I can’t stand up under the enormity of it.  It is too much for me to bear and I close my eyes, barely breathing.  As quickly as it came, it is gone.  There is peace; blessed silence, as I rest safely in the shadow of Your wings.  The roar is replaced by the most beautiful song I have ever heard, being sung above me, all around me.  I cannot understand the words being spoken; it is too lofty for me, but something deep in my spirit awakens and responds. I am utterly captivated.  I feel so light, so new, so clean!  As I raise my arms in praise and abandon to my Father, I see that I am free! The walls I built are no more, the boxes are gone, the air is clean, and the Light is back.  Gingerly, I begin walking where once the walls of my self imposed prison stood tall. I notice only a slight indentation, like a scar, left there; an indication of where the pit of my captivity had once been.  Today is the day I traded my stronghold for a strong tower.  As I soak in the song You sing over me, Your voice becomes imprinted on my heart, “I am the Lord Your God, I am with you, I am mighty to save.  I will take great delight in you, I will quiet you with My love, I will rejoice over you with singing.”

Mary, Did You Know? Pondering Treasures

~ Extravagant Hope ~ 5 Comments

Mary, the mother of Jesus, is one of my favorite people in the Bible. I aspire to have her spirit and her faith.  The way that she watches, listens and fully takes in the miracles she witnesses; the miraculous that becomes her life; the miraculous that collides with her humble and ordinary humanity and literally alters history and brings saving hope to mankind. As I imagine her feelings and thoughts; her wonder, fear and acceptance when the angel Gabriel appears to her and says, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you!” it captivates my soul and draws me deeper into her life, making me wonder what it must have been like to be her.

Did she wonder what Gabriel meant when he said she was highly favored? Did it terrify Mary that God looked upon her and trusted her, a virgin from a tiny town, to birth the Savior of the world? “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, who will be given the throne of his father David, who will reign over the house of Jacob forever,” (1) the One who’s kingdom will never end? How can this be? I’m sure this thought crossed her mind…yet, she believed that “…nothing is impossible with God.” (2) She received this honor from the Most High God and said “I am the Lord’s servant, may it be to me as you have said.” (3) I may not be asked to birth the Savior, but I am asked to seek Him, love Him with all my heart, soul, mind and spirit. I may not be visited by an angel of the Most High God and given a commission that will alter the history of mankind, but I am asked to boldly and without fear tell my story of how He became my Savior, how heavens plans for me collided with my humanity and altered my history and forever changed me.  I want it to be said of me, as Elizabeth said of Mary, “Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished!” (4)

I wonder what Mary’s thoughts were as she and Joseph set out on the long and wearying journey to Bethlehem. Did she worry about how they would actually get there with her being so far with child? Did Mary imagine and fret over the difficulty of it all and the enormity of what was set before her? Was she cold? Would they make it? Could they do this? Did Mary ever wish God had chosen someone else? Yet, they were obedient. They trusted God.  I’m sure the sound of Gabriel’s voice, his greeting and encouragement to her and the awe of the blessing bestowed upon her played over and over in her mind, as the God of all creation comforted her and reminded her that nothing is impossible.

As she wrapped her newborn son in cloths and gently placed Him in the manger, amidst the sounds of the animals settling in for the night, I imagine her listening to the rejoicing of heaven as the heavenly hosts praised God and sang of His glory and of the coming Peace and Hope of mankind. What was it like knowing that this was happening because of the birth of her first born son, the Son of the Most High? The very words of Gabriel coming to pass; prophecy fulfilled in her hearing; watching and listening as angels sang and rejoiced. This would be something to ponder in her deepest soul. Here would be what Mary treasured and stored up in her heart. I can see her smile and reflect on all that had been spoken to her and prophesied over her and her baby boy.

Did Mary feel wonder and awe? Was she afraid? Did her heart fill full of hope, joy, love and anticipation? I wonder if Mary sat that night and reflected in the quiet. Was she dreaming of the future? As she looked at Him, new, small and fragile, did her heart fill to the brim with love and expectation? Could she comprehend that this precious baby boy would be her deliverer? That her first born son would die for her sins? Could she understand that this baby boy was the hope of mankind? I wonder if her spirit discerned that this baby would cause her such joy and such deep sorrow.

Mary could not have foreseen all that her son, the Son of the Most High, would come to mean to me; an ordinary, imperfect, fairly normal and fanciful woman, 2000 years in the future. She couldn’t know all that I sit and ponder and store up in my heart about Him – what He has done, will do and is doing for me. How I know that He dances, rejoices and sings over me; how prophesy flows forth from His mouth as He calls me Daughter and speaks to all that is not, as though it was and it becomes what He pleases. All the small, little moments and miracles known only to my soul and my heart that I store up as my treasure; all the revelation, healing and protection He has showered on me – things that even my very soul and spirit cannot comprehend. It is all undeserved, but given with such a wildly, fiercely generous love. Mary, did you know?

“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” (5)

(1) Luke 1: 32-33 (2) Luke 1:37 (3) Luke 1:38 (4) Luke 1:45 (5) Luke 2:19 (NIV)