A Painful Privilege
I Thessalonians 5:16-24
Luke 1:46-55
Advent 3
December 11, 2005
I read a very interesting comment about motherhood the other day. One commentator said that motherhood is a painful privilege. I guess that it is easy for me to say, being a man, but I like that. A painful privilege.
I know that my wife…and I am fairly sure that all of you mothers here today feel the same way…feels that it has been a privilege to be able to give birth to a child who bears the stamp and image of God. Even women who have not given birth, but who have adopted children, feel the same way; that it is a privilege to be able to guide a life so that he or she will be able to accept Christ and the Christian way of life. To be entrusted with so great a task is humbling indeed.
In our case, each one of our three children was wanted, expected, and anticipated. Look back to the biblical record however, and you see that some babies, although desperately wanted, were anything but anticipated.
Let me remind you of a few babies in the Bible. Do you remember Abraham and Sarah? Their story is told back in the book of Genesis. Abraham was ninety-nine years old and his wife Sarah was ninety. Sarah had been unable to have children during her life and so at this point, was resigned to the fact that she would die childless. But God had other ideas. An angel visited them with the news that Sarah would indeed have a baby. And she laughed. Can you blame her? But God’s word can be trusted, and it wasn’t too long when they welcomed son Isaac into their new family (Genesis 21).
The generation of Isaac’s grandchildren went into slavery in Egypt. After they had escaped and were beginning to settle into the Promised Land, but before they had kings to rule over them, they were governed by a number of Judges. It was during this time when there lived a fellow by the name of Manoah. His wife had been unable to have children, and so they were resigned to the idea of having to find pleasure in the children of others. But an angel came to her as happened to Sarah before her. The angel told her that she would have a son. She did indeed conceive and give birth to a son, Samson, who would grow and become one of the great Judges of Israel (Judges 13).
Sometime after the death of Sampson, there was another man named Elkanah who was married to a woman named Hannah. Hannah, unable to bear children, went to worship and prayed to God to allow her to give birth. God granted her request and she gave birth to Samuel (I Samuel 1).
This is beginning to be a familiar story, but let’s remember one more. In the first chapter of the gospel of Luke, we find the account of the angel Gabriel coming to stand before a man named Zechariah. Zechariah’s wife, Elizabeth, was getting older and had not yet been able to have a child. Zechariah prayed and prayed about the situation. Finally his prayers were answered. Elizabeth found that she was pregnant and was soon to give birth to a baby named John, who would grow to be the one who would announce the coming of the Messiah. We know him now as John the Baptist.
Motherhood is a painful privilege. These mothers gave birth to sons who brought them much pride and thanksgiving, but their offspring didn’t always take the easy path. Isaac, Sampson, Samuel, and John would all grow to discover struggle and hardship. They would call their people to do things that weren’t popular or easy, yet were necessary for the people of God. Sampson and John would have their lives tragically ended. For their mothers, the physical pain experienced in the birth process would become heartache.
We really want to talk about one more mother this morning. This mother is on the opposite end of the age scale as the first four. She was young; a teenager actually. We are not sure how old she was, but I have heard speculation that she might have been as young as thirteen or fourteen.
She wasn’t married. The other four mothers had the support and companionship of their husbands, but Mary did not enjoy that. She was betrothed to Joseph, but they were not living together yet; the marriage had not actually taken place.
Like the other four, she was visited by an angel and told that she would bear a son. That, however, is where the similarities end, for this son would be divine in origin. This child would grow, not just to bring help to his people for a time, but also to bring salvation to the world’s people for eternity. As great as his forerunners were, they weren’t even worthy to stoop to untie his sandals.
Motherhood for Mary would be a painful privilege. A privilege? Of course. She had been chosen to bear the Son of God. Out of all the women on earth, God had chosen her. God could have found the wife of a rich man, or the wife of a religious leader, or the wife of a government official. God could have chosen to have the Messiah born in the great city of Jerusalem. God could have made a bigger splash with this birth by choosing someone with more visibility or exposure or maturity. Instead, God chose this young, poor teenager. Isn’t that crazy? In the words of the Apostle Paul, God chose what was foolish to shame the wise, to thwart the powerful, and to point to the all-surpassing power of God (I Corinthians 1:18-31).
Mary realized how truly wonderful this was when she sang, “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant…” (Luke 1:47-48).
Protestants have always been a little wary of paying too much attention to Mary for fear of elevating her status above that of Jesus. Unfortunately, the result has been that we pay hardly any attention to her at all. Think of it. This was the woman who bore the Son of God. The child she nursed was divine. The little baby who looked at her and gurgled and blew bubbles was the Son of the Most High. How honored a place she has in our faith. How wonderful it was for her. How awe-inspiring it must have been for her to be able to bend down and caress the face of God. What a privilege indeed!
But this birth, this privilege, would also bring unbearable pain and suffering. When she and Joseph took the infant Jesus to the temple to dedicate him to the Lord, there was an old man named Simeon, who had been waiting for the Messiah for a long time. Simeon met them, took the child in his arms, and blessed him. Turning to Mary, he told her that, though this child was sent for the comfort of the nation, a sword would pierce her heart.
She would indeed watch Jesus weather the storms of controversy. She would observe as he was threatened and hounded. She would stand by as they nailed him to the cross. She was there when they took his lifeless body down off the tree and put it into the grave. A painful privilege indeed, being the mother of this particular child.
In spite of it all, she put herself in the Lord’s service. When God called, Mary answered. When God put a challenge before her, she trusted in God’s grace. When God announced that he was doing a new thing through her, she willingly put herself at God’s disposal.
That is why she could sing for joy. “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” She rejoiced because despite her lowly stature, God had chosen her for the highest honor imaginable, the privilege of bearing God’s Son.
This is the third Sunday in Advent, the day that is traditionally known as Gaudete Sunday. Gaudete means “rejoice” and we recall the joy felt by Mary as she was chosen. She rejoiced with a song. Her heart was bursting for joy and she broke out into song. “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior”
Now think about this for a minute. What is it that makes you sing for joy? What is it in your life that makes you so happy that you can’t keep it in?
I know that you would expect me to say this, but it is true. I don’t say this just because I’m a preacher and get paid to do it. But without a doubt, the greatest joy we can know is the same joy that Mary came to know, the presence of her Lord. Knowing Christ in our midst is what moved the Apostle Paul to encourage the Thessalonians to “rejoice always…give thanks in all circumstances.” What a joy and privilege it is for us, unworthy as we are, to be given the gift of Jesus. We’ve done nothing to deserve that gift, but God has nonetheless bestowed on us the honor of Christ’s presence.
The privilege of having Jesus in our midst comes at a cost, sometimes a painful cost. It requires us to submit ourselves to Jesus. Submission doesn’t come easy to us nowadays. But submission is what is called for.
Mary’s song brings with it a promise. For those of us who are lowly and who know that we are completely and utterly dependent on God, we are promised that God will lift us up. If we are truly hungry for the things of the Spirit that only God can provide, it is promised that we will be filled. When we stand in awe and devotion before the power of God, we will be recipients of the Lord’s mercy. Mary’s answer to the challenge placed before her was, “…let it be to me according to your Word” (Luke 1:38). When we are able to make that statement of trust our own, then we too will be blessed.
Jesus is coming. There aren’t many days left before we will welcome him into our midst. It is a painful experience to give birth to new ideas and new ways of thinking and doing. It is painful to change the way we have always been doing things. It is painful to be called to a new lifestyle. It is painful to abandon long held traditions and notions. It is painful to be called out of a comfortable lifestyle and sent to places and to people that we would rather not be sent to.
But it will be the most joyful experience we can ever imagine. To be granted the privilege of welcoming the Son of God to earth in human form is indescribable. To join with Mary and place ourselves in his service fills us with joy.
Christmas is coming in just a few more days. We will celebrate the future as a promise and praise God for securing that future. We will be the people of God together and will open ourselves to God’s moving. We will be ready for the painful privilege.
