Mary gave birth to God in the flesh. Sweet little Jewish girl, chosen by God to play a vital role in His plan to save many. She gave birth to this perfect, tiny miracle, and then life went on and she learned how to be a mother. She had other children. She juggled all of the duties of a mother and wife while she watched the God of the Universe grow inch by inch right there under her humble roof.
Mary wasn’t getting weekly status updates from angels. No one was miraculously appearing to give her a play-by-play of how this wonderful plan would be carried out. Like all mothers, she had to wait and wonder and spend lots of time in prayer, hoping for an outcome that wouldn’t be too hard on her first-born son. Maybe she even mistakenly believed that He would become an important political figure or someone of great influence among the Jewish people. Mary really had no more insight into the future than anyone else. She, like all of us, was just trying to be a good mother to Him and her other children, trying to be for Him all that she could be, even while knowing in her heart that she could never fully understand Him. God at her table, the child who made her a mother, the little son who caused quite a scandal at His birth, the boy who was growing much too fast for her liking. The wise and selfless older brother.
She loved watching His personality develop, no doubt. She told funny stories about Him. Her heart danced at the sound of His laugh. He loved her, too. He knew He had come to be her savior. And, it’s doubtful any other human on the planet loved Him more fiercely, because she was His mother, and she would have gladly died for Him.
But, that’s not how God had things planned. Instead, she would watch her perfect son die for her.
Maybe if she had known how things would play out, she would’ve told the angel to go away. Maybe if she could’ve seen her sweet boy’s future she would’ve begged God to choose someone else to be His mother. But, that’s not how a mother’s love works, now is it?
She looked at her dark-haired darling that night in the manger and she thanked God for choosing her. And she looked at her bruised, bearded Savior on the cross that day and she thanked God for choosing her.
Despite the pain. Despite the devastation. It was all worth it, to know Him. To hear Him call her Mother. To see Him take up her burdens. And, a few days later, to see Him claim the victory.
For us, too. Knowing Him is worth it. It’s worth the misunderstandings, the ridicule, the faith when it all seems hopeless, the humbling. It is so worth it, just to be near to the baby in the manger. Just to be standing at the foot of the cross, knowing it is finished. Knowing He is real. Believing He is enough, this tiny baby with so much on His shoulders. This humble carpenter with healing in His touch. His love can do so much. His coming is everything.
And He did it for you. Because you are worth it.