Christmas With the ChosenSample

You probably didn’t have a sense of foreboding when you first saw Mary and Joseph on that dusty road to Bethlehem — but you should have.

There was nothing safe about their plight: traveling by foot in unforgiving terrain; trusting there would surely be somewhere to give birth; carrying a child who’s a direct threat to all powers of the world (and beyond).

At one point, a weary and worried Joseph says what you would say, too: “This all seems impossible.”

But did you see Mary?

There were touches of worry at the edges of her eyes, but she was startlingly stoic, and almost always with a winking sort of smile.

How?

The answer’s peeking out from behind the scene you just watched, in a moment that happened before the road trip even started.

The reason for Mary’s steadfast hope is found in the song she composed (Luke 1:46-55) — a piece of written worship so stunning that you’ll read it twice in our six days together.

Maybe you noticed: while singing about her present, Mary spends about half her time revisiting the past. As pressing circumstances press in, she rummages about in the ancient stories of Israel and places her own precarious story alongside them.

It’s wise for her to do so, because her (and Joseph’s) story has only a beginning and a middle, while the ones of old possess that and an ending. And every ending is marked by a God faithful to bring mercy, provision, and fulfillment.

That stoicism you see in Mary — that winking sort of smile? It’s because she’s done her homework. Her history homework. She’s remembered to remember, and so she’s remembered this clarion truth: God has done it before, and he’ll do it again.

And so it’s onward to Bethlehem.

Because in the end, remembering is invigorating, galvanizing.

So, a few questions for you: What fears have a hold of you in these days leading up to Christmas? And now what are the stories of old that you need to remember, that you might press on, even as the present presses in on you?