Pondering

Note: I apologize for a bit of hiatus from the blog. I haven't been writing my monthly "column" lately -- but will try to be more disciplined in the future. I have plenty of reasons to make excuses for not writing, but when I make time for it, I find I'm truly blessed. I hope you find the same.

Pondering

"But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart." Luke 2:19

Ever since I held my first child in my arms, I've felt a greater affinity for Mary, the mother of Jesus. A baby is an expression – a living manifestation – of hope and anticipation. Most of us, who have “ordinary” babies are nearly bursting at the seams with joy as our infants enter the world. There is something about the newness of life that allows us to grasp, if even for a few moments (between diaper changes and feedings), an ounce or two of the eternal hope that God bestows. Now, imagine holding God’s own son in your arms – and imagine that hope and joy, and maybe that pressure, too.

I was trying to put myself in Mary’s shoes the other day and thinking how wonderful it would be to have a truly perfect child. Think about it – a child who never sinned, who always did the right thing, who always followed God’s will? It’s almost beyond our human grasp, isn’t it? Would this mean there would be a child who never once fussed at bedtime, who always voiced a polite please and thank you when requesting a drink, who never got up from the table without being properly excused and praising the chef?

And while my mind raced on, trying to picture what it would be like to raise a truly angelic child, it also dawned on me how daunting of a task that would be. First off, Mary wasn’t perfect. Imagine not being able to take on that “I-know-what’s-best-for-you-so-just-be-quiet-and-listen tone with your child – because he actually did know what was best. Imagine being chided by your child, and knowing he wasn’t being disrespectful, he was just fulfilling his destiny. Remember Jesus at 12 years-old, left behind in the temple while his parents began their long journey home? When his frantic, frustrated parents found him, he was the one to do the talking – “"Why were you searching for me?" he asked. "Didn't you know I had to be in my Father's house?” (Luke 2:49).

But perhaps even more difficult than having a son who knows better than you, would be anticipating how the world would treat him.

Our world doesn’t really have a lot of patience for those who go against the flow, who speak out against the way things have always been, who do the right thing in difficult circumstances. People who stand up for the right things in the face of opposition often encounter the most violent opposition – such as a public and brutal death on a cross.

So, I’m no theologian, but I think that simple verse in Luke’s Christmas story is a loaded one. "But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart." (Luke 2:19) Imagine all this woman has to treasure – visits from angels, the virgin birth of a son, shepherds stopping in to welcome the baby – and I thought I was hormonal and emotional after birth!

But the word in that verse that is really causing me to stop and take notice is the word ponder. With a little research, I found that the world ponder comes from the Latin word ponderare, which means literally “to weigh.” Mary was sitting there, after the birth of son, trying to take in everything around here and weighing the situation – balancing the joy with the human emotions of wonder, and maybe even a bit of fear -- fear not only of the responsibility of raising God’s son, but fear of ways that His life would be given up and spilled over for others. Because I think Mary knew, even then, that this story was so much bigger than her life story – that this baby was so much more than what that tiny manger could contain.

And for that we can all bow our heads, and take a moment to ponder and treasure these things in our hearts.

May that baby bring us peace, joy, and hope this year. And also convict us to be the kind of people that look beyond the world for approval, but fulfill a higher calling. Like that baby in the manger, may we aspire to be more than this world can contain. Merry Christmas.