Dec 162010
 

Two.

At least she knew there were two.

Whisked away the next day to spend time with Aunt Beth in the south. Out of town. Out of sight. Out of…mind.

Except for Joseph, that is. Guilt-ridden, he found an excuse to make a woodshop delivery almost every day that took him by the home of Mary’s parents.  He longed for just one glimpse of her. And  hoped that he would not see her!  What did he want, lonely safety or risky togetherness?

Week after week after week passed by. He began to lose weight. His clothes hung loosely on his sparse frame.  Conflict drove him. Drove him away from others. Drove him to his knees. Night after night. Less and less talk, more and more listening.

One night-

An angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”  Matthew 1:20 NIV.

The next morning, fresh air and a fresh attitude gave a new spring to his step. Confident in his decision, Joseph marched up to the front door and knocked discreetly. Asking for Mary’s father, he shared his night’s dream and begged her father to let him resume his betrothal.  The positive response ringing in his ears, he lengthened his stride as he continued past the house.

Suddenly, he sees her against the back fence.  Hands and face raised to the morning sun,  glowing with health, her figure gently blossoming with motherhood.

Hearing his step, she turns and her face breaks into a wide smile!

“It’s true!” she said, “even Aunt Beth knows!”

“And I know,” he whispered to her in his arms, “I know! His Son will be my son, our son!”

And then there were three.

Dec 152010
 

Two.

Two lives.

One earthly. One heavenly.

One life very much real. One life more thought than reality. Right up until the day that it was clear to her, and to her mother, that her time was late.  No, not late. Past! A thousand rapid questions. Angry questions. Shocked questions. Hurt questions. Selfish and loud questions. Joseph’s name spoken with harshness and disdain.

Finally, back in her bedchamber alone, she stares at her still-flat belly. Was there really a Life in there? What of Joseph, her promised? Maybe she could convince him the Life was his. They were legally promised, after all.  She knew he awaited their wedding night with impatience. She could wait for him one night at the wood shop. But who would that betray? Her father, her Father, her Joseph, herself? Her rambling thoughts were derailed by renewed shouts from the front door. Joseph.

Joseph and her father hurl accusations at each other. He looks in her direction as she cowers in the background.  His eyes  filled with hurt and betrayal. Hurt and betrayal…. and love. And disbelief. Out of kindness, he said, he would break their promise quietly. He would not demand her life. She would be a marked woman. The woman who bore a fatherless son.

As he stalks stiffly down the lane away from the house, she finally gives in to the grief. Sinking to the floor, tears flooding her face, she despairs. Please let this be a nightmare and let me wake up soon, she thinks. Suddenly, a wave of nausea sweeps over her and she lurches to the back door only to vomit her entire stomach contents on the step. She continues to retch as she imagines bringing her fatherless child into a world cruel and heartless to those without pedigree.

“Father,” she finally screams into the morning stillness, “Father, why have you forsaken me?” A sense of horror and foreboding overcomes her as she wonders if her scream went further into space and time than she intended. A vision flashes. Would her Son scream the same words in agony one day?

Just as Mary struggled alone, so Israel struggled, rejecting their heavenly Father Who yearned to complete them, to be a part of their very lives. Just as Mary agonized over her Child’s apparently missing Father, so we stumble through our lives, not acknowledging Who our Father is, not admitting that we were conceived to look just like Him, not allowing Him to make us be like Him.

Do you know Who your Father is?

Dec 132010
 

One.

One young girl.

One scared teenaged girl, in the dark of the morning, sees a powerful figure enter her small bedchamber. She shrinks into a corner as a glowing light fills the room. Suddenly, he speaks, his deep voice resonates, vibrating the floor-

Good morning!
   You’re beautiful with God’s beauty,
   Beautiful inside and out!
   God be with you.  Luke 1:28 The Message

Somehow, a sense of total goodness fills the room! She feels an incredible peace emanating from the figure, coupled with a piercing sensation of rightness and truth. Her senses are completely overwhelmed and she begins shaking with abject fear. Again he speaks, this time in a calming whisper-

 Mary, you have nothing to fear. God has a surprise for you: You will become pregnant and give birth to a son and call his name Jesus. Luke 1:30-31 The Message

“But, but, but I’m not,

I’ve never,

Joseph hasn’t,

Oh, Joseph!

But why me?

Why now?

But, how?

Who?”

The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, ….nothing is impossible with God.” Luke 1  NIV

Minutes pass, or was it years?

“Yes”, she whispers finally. “Yes! I don’t know why, but yes”.

Her voice raising, “I don’t know how, but yes!

“Yes!” she finally shouts, Yes!”

And in the dark of that morning, before the son came up, before the Son came,

In a blinding flash of heat and light,

With a rush of wind,

Lifting, holding, covering,

The voice. That Voice! Was it the pound of ocean waves?  The crash of thunder? The piercing blast of a trumpet? Or all of them rolled into a single quiet voice filled with power, peace, and love-

“I am!” the Voice said.

“He is!” the Voice spoke again.

And heaven came down,

and Glory filled,

filled her soul, her mind, her heart, her all!

And then there were

Two.

Dec 132010
 

Since my girls were little, we’ve practiced our version of the twelve days of Christmas. Our version, making a break with tradition, starts twelve days before Christmas. Each day, they find a small gift under the tree. It might be lip gloss, a colorful and cozy pair of socks, a discounted DVD, a scarf. Five bucks or less.

I’m sure we are not alone in feeling the economic pinch that suggests we keep spending to a minimum. fortunately, the season is not, or at least should not, be about the transfer of wealth. Our twelve days of gift giving allow us to experience generosity and joy, unselfishness and sacrifice, anticipation and thankfulness, grace and wonder. All the things that the real Christmas is actually about!

Although I’ve experienced several dozen Christmas seasons, I entered this one as usual, looking forward to the lights and the music and impatient with the commercialism. Many of us mumble positive comments about the babe in the manager, angels, Mary, and the livestock, but is the whole thing really clicking in our minds? Or is it just another mildly supportive holiday with a strange mix of religious tradition and cutesy, secular folklore?

Around the first of December, listing to some music I hadn’t heard for twelve months, I was overwhelmed with the need to make this season real to me in a slightly different way. I am planning to write a new post each day until the 25th to help make that happen for me. I know that God has a journey planned for the next twelve days.

I hope and pray that my experience will be a blessing to you. Please feel free to comment and to share these twelve with anyone.