What Mary Knew
Merry Christmas
If we are honest, motherhood often gets a bad rap. Our society makes a lot of noise about what it costs us, how difficult it is, how much is required. And all those things are true. However, something that I don’t think gets highlighted often is what a privilege it is to bear these things on behalf of the child you love. I think that the fundamental difference between Mary, the mother of God, and us—is that she knew she was mothering God.
When Jesus cried because he shat his swaddling cloth in the middle of the night, it wasn’t just an inconvenience, but a precious opportunity to care for the vulnerable God himself. The cry of a child doesn’t just pierce a mother’s ears, but every cell in her body responds. “My baby needs me. I must go care for him.” Many mothers have been saved through motherhood—because they recognized the opportunity to shed their selfishness, to persevere through hardship and physical distress on behalf of the child they loved.
To grow up…to really grow up…and shed your small self that suffers with every little drama—is a blessing. It is freedom. To love someone so much that you would do anything for them. To push past fear and insecurity to do what is best on behalf of your child. To love someone more than you fear dying—it feels really good to get to that place. I have realized the strength I have inside in a way I would not have if not for my children.
What Mary knew beforehand is what we can know now—that the child you love is God in disguise. You have the precious opportunity to love a vulnerable, needy God. And by doing so, you may just bear witness to Christ who lives in your child, the hope of glory.
Motherhood isn’t about reproduction—but about taking one as a part of yourself.
When you wipe the bum of your child, or clean up his spilled milk, or rub crayon off your walls, know that it is Christ whom you are caring for, and teaching to be careful, and reminding to take care of his things. And by doing this, you won’t form a human demanding to be worshiped, but one who knows unconditional love—because you were his mother.
(The birth of my son, Jacob, nearly 11 years ago. A messy, painful, sacred moment when my only son was born!)
But what if you aren’t a mother? How does this apply?
Consider that the miracle birth of Christmas is not just out there but in here.
That there is a needy vulnerable child—you—who lay naked in the deepest recesses of your heart…needing comfort, care, nurturance and love. Take a moment today to wonder about what that child inside of you—that precious little light of God—may need today and tomorrow and the next day. This is not narcissism, no. This is the courage to consider the possibility that even in your filth and rags, you too belong in the family of God. You are welcome here just as you are. If you were to disappear, your Heavenly Father and Mother would not stop looking for you. So, you owe it to yourself to go looking for you, too.
Listen for the cry of God inside of your heart—the cry of your precious infant self—and I promise that once you hear it, you will never un-hear it. You will be changed. You will recognize the sound of the North Star in the Silent Night.
Merry Christmas!
P.S. For those following—my kidney stones have passed (I think)!
Returning to Eden: A Field Guide for the Spiritual Journey on Amazon