At Just the Right Time

A reflection for Advent on the motherhood of Elizabeth and Mary

In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah, and she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold, when the sound of your greeting came to my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.”

(Luke 1:39-45 ESV)

In the very first chapter of Luke we meet two pivotal women, through whom God declared and raised up His salvation for His people: Mary and Elizabeth. In verse 7, we learn Elizabeth is barren and advanced in years. Mary, on the other hand, is a betrothed virgin (v. 27), old enough to know where babies come from but too young to already be married, likely around the age of 14. God promises through His messengers that both of these women will conceive sons, and God faithfully provides that each carry their sons to term, they are born, and they grow to adulthood to radically change the course of human history. Mary and Elizabeth’s pregnancies run in parallel and in stark contrast. One women’s biological clock was ticking to a halt, the other’s had just begun. One became pregnant before wedlock, the other spent many marital years longing for a child. One struggled with infertility, and one seemed to be too fertile. Mary and Elizabeth have come to represent to me the opposite ends of women’s personal struggles revolving around becoming a mother. One patiently waiting for her turn to be a mother, the other suddenly and caught unaware. One I can relate to, the other I can only speculate to her thoughts and feelings from the experiences I’ve watched my friends endure. But both their stories should hold such abundant hope for all women and people.

I have met Elizabeth. I’ve drank coffee with her. I’ve exchanged countless emails with her. I’ve cried over her and for her as she explained to me the heartache, the doubt, the bewilderment, and worst still the resignation of infertility. I have heard Elizabeth’s story told many times through wonderful women of God who strongly desire to become mothers. Elizabeth’s is their story. Elizabeth knew the desperate longing and hopeless emptiness. Elizabeth watched her friends and family members birth child after child while she wondered if it would ever be her turn. Elizabeth endured the whispers and insensitive comments around her that constantly reinforced the voices in her own mind that said she was doing something wrong, she didn’t have enough faith, she wasn’t taking every possible step to conceive. Elizabeth lifted countless prayers to her Heavenly Father only to feel as if the ceiling deflected her pleas and sent them back to her falling in pieces. Elizabeth felt as if she carried with her not the ability to create life but rather carried death itself. 

The suffering Elizabeth endured was so great that she, like many women I know, waited to let others know she was pregnant (Luke 1:24). Perhaps she couldn’t bear to have the gift she had finally been granted to be questioned by the same people who had cast on her such scorn and therefore waited until her body showed undoubtedly that the Lord had at last answered her prayers. Scripture isn’t specific about Elizabeth’s struggle, it doesn’t need to be. Enough women have lived Elizabeth’s story. Sarai (Gen 11:30), Rachel (Gen 29:31), and Hannah (1Sam 1:2) to name a few. Many more women I adore. However, scripture is clear on whether God heard Elizabeth’s prayer:

After these days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she kept herself hidden, saying, “Thus the Lord has done for me in the days when he looked on me, to take away my reproach among people.”

(Luke 1:24-25 ESV)

Elizabeth response echoes that of Rachel (Genesis 30:23), a mother of a patriarch, a sister who endured childlessness. The conception of John the Baptist from a barren and broken woman shows that it is God who ordains life, not man. The freedom from shame and guilt that conceiving a child God gave Elizabeth points to the freedom God gives all of us in Christ.

And then there’s Mary. Elizabeth had the husband, the household, and the nursery waiting to be filled. Mary was just newly a woman. She had an arranged marriage but otherwise no immediate plans for motherhood. She likely looked on motherhood as an eventuality, something that would follow her marriage to Joseph, something that was still some time off and nothing to worry about now. Maybe Mary was more that just an unexpected mother. Maybe she was reluctant to the notion of motherhood. Maybe Mary desired to be a mother insomuch as that is what Godly woman did, but maybe she wasn’t the first to volunteer to watch the children. Maybe she had passions and hobbies that didn’t revolve around rearing offspring. Maybe she wasn’t the most nurturing and maternal teen girl. Maybe Mary was like me. 

Scripture doesn’t give great detail about pre-pregnancy Mary. We can know she was related to Elizabeth (Luke 1:36); she was from the tribe of Judah (Luke 3:23-38); and her parents likely feared the Lord so to arrange her marriage to a righteous man (Matthew 1:19). After birthing Christ, she goes on to have other children (Mark 6:3) and she eventually becomes a widow in need of an eldest son to care of her (John 19:26-27). She showed unimaginable faith at Gabriel’s announcement in Luke1, but is still human as she sets out with other sons to interrupt Christ’s ministry (Mark 3:31-35). One way I know for certain that Mary and I differ is that I have never quietly stored up pondering in my heart (Luke 2:19) but rather spill out the clamor of all my musings like a waiter dropping tray of bussed dishes. Nevertheless, Mary likely did not think herself ready to be a mother and certainly wasn’t planning on being pregnant at that time. I also had not thought myself ready for motherhood and made no plans to pursue it.

When I felt God first place the call to motherhood on my heart in the immediate upcoming season, I panicked. God didn’t quite send an archangel, but He was very clear. I summoned as many objections to the idea of me as mother as I could. I’m selfish; I’m immature; I’m disorganized. I like things clean and orderly, not covered with peanut butter as I presume all children are all the time. I barely manage to adult myself, how could I possibly manage to raise a completely dependent little human? My objections revealed my fear, my sinfulness, and my lack of trust in God. To top it all, I became seized with guilt. Here I felt God leading me into motherhood and I myself utterly reluctant, when I knew so many women from personal experience and from scripture who had longed to be mothers. I was asking God, “Why me?” when I knew so many to ask, “Why not me?” 

In my fear and guilt, I turned to God’s Word. I read of Sarai, Rebekah, Rachel, (the matriarchs were all barren), Manoah’s wife & mother of Samson, Hannah, and Elizabeth. Women who cried out, whom the Lord heard and gave children, whose children grew to be men of valor through whom God brought about His redemptive purposes. I knew I too needed to be obedient to God’s call to become a mother, but I desired to be obedient much more than I actually wanted to be a mother. Was there a woman in scripture who was obedient to motherhood but had not been crying out to be a mother? And then there was Mary. 

And the angel answered her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy—the Son of God. And behold, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month with her who was called barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” And Mary said, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her.

(Luke 1:35-38 ESV)

In May of 2015, God spoke through a seminar my husband and I went to that we should pursue adoption in the next season. Unfortunately, unlike Mary, I initially responded like Moses, Jeremiah, and Peter, “Not me Lord!” This year has been a year of wrestling. Me wrestling with God; me wrestling with myself; me wrestling with the reality of motherhood. But then Lord has remained faithful through my objections and doubts. He has graciously listened to my fears and mercifully silenced them. He removed my heart of refusal and given me a heart of great excitement about becoming a mother.

Maybe you relate to Elizabeth’s narrative. You have known deep longing and and endless waiting. Maybe you identify with Mary, with an unexpected launch into a new season or undertaking in life that you don’t feel prepared for. The likelihood though is if you’ve spent any number of years on this earth, you’ve felt the fear of both. God’s faithfulness arrives for both of them. For Elizabeth God’s faithfulness hears her daily uttered prayer and casts off her shame. For Mary, it’s God’s promise to provide and sustain her through the motherhood He’s calling her into. Their parallel pregnancies, though very different contexts, show God is faithful in both in a season that seems too long delayed or in a season that seems to have come too soon. God sustains through both. He is good in both. Furthermore, Mary and Elizabeth both became pregnant at just the right time. We can rest knowing that God’s timing will be just right for us as well. Christ entered our broken world and the darkness in our lives at just the right time, as Paul assures us:

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.

(Romans 5:6 ESV)

Likewise the author of Hebrews extols us to preserve as he quotes Habakkuk 2:3:

Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised. For,

“Yet a little while,

and the coming one will come and will not delay;(Hebrews 10:35-37 ESV)

Waiting isn’t easy; being thrown head first into something we don’t feel ready for is terrifying, but good and heavenly Father uses both to grow and extend His Kingdom and our faith. If you’re feeling caught in either extreme this advent, know that you have both of these women’s narratives to testify that God is with you; Emmanuel has come and will come again.

Sad Mac

Sad Mac

On Friday, April 8th, while composing an email to a friend, suddenly the spinning rainbow ball of doom appeared.  Thinking it was just my internet acting up and that I needed to 'force quit' Chrome, I clicked out of Chrome without the slightest concern.  Then, however, the same ominous orb appeared.  

It may look pretty, but it often means no good.

For a  few months now, Polyhymnia, has been showing signs of wear.  I purchased and inserted more RAM, upgraded all of her aging programs, loaded Snow Leopard and the latest version of Office, and gave her a good wipe down--she was as if but a year old instead of three.  After this round of treatment, things were looking up.  She performed quickly like her younger self, enabled me to renew blogging, and happily accepted many pictures from all my travels this year.  I thought we had come out of the woods.

Surrounded by spiraling prisms, I acted as I usually would: I gently petted Polyhymnia and cooed that she was just tired, needed a rest, and held the power button down.  Had I only known that was the last time we'd speak, I would have told her how much she meant to me, how I'm crippled without her, and how she alone holds the albums of 3 1/2 years of pictures, the anthologies of college papers, tons of research data, and the keys to my electronic heart!

After a few minutes, I hit the power button again, expecting Poly to rise rejuvenated.  Her "I'm awake" melody sang and up came the groggy gray screen that usually precedes the desk top.  But she never roused further.  The gray screen stared blankly at me as I it.  Then I heard it, like a tiny baby's whimper: whir whir click, whir whir click, whir whir click.

Now I began to fret.  I turned her off again, then back on. "I'm awake." Gray screen. Whir whir click. Whir whir click.  Off, then on; "I'm awake" gray screen whir whir click whir whir click. Off on awake gray whir whir click whirwhirclick whirwhirclickwhirwhirclickwhirwhirclick. Off.

I scooped Poly up in my arms, wrapped her in her grape sleeve, gently laid the bundle in my satchel, and set off via bicycle to the ER of Apples, the Genius Bar, still not expecting the worst.

When I arrived at the Mac store, I discovered that in my feverish pace I had forgotten my bike lock keys.  Asking the kind Mac people to watch my bike, I flew to the Genius bar.  There Jim met me.  I am positive that Jim is the same guy I always meet with.  So kind and unassuming, patient and understanding, He had helped me so many times in the past.  Surely he could save Poly now!

"What seems to be the problem with your Macbook today?"

"Well, she was acting up so I turned her off, but now when I try to turn her back on, all I get is the gray screen and she makes this noise: whir whir click."

"Oh, I see.  I know that noise; that is the Sad Mac noise.  That is the noise of the hard drive trying to spin and then trying to reset.  That is the sound of dead hard drive. Tell me you've backed up your files."

"Of course," I lied, choking back tears.

Jim gave me a list of options, none of which involved resurrecting Poly, which was all I wanted.  I enshrouded her back into the sarcophagus sleeve, into the tomb of my messenger bag.  I biked home through a haze of tears as I thought of all the pictures on iPhoto, all the essays, all the data, the programs, and all the other things I couldn't recall at the moment but would the day I needed them and they were gone.  Poly descended to the grave, pulling down with her three and a half years of my digital life.

Here's to Polyhymnia, beloved comrade in arms against school papers, composer of my first published article, bearer of music, pictures, movies, and poetry, sorely missed friend.

Polyhymnia  August 2007 - April 2011

The Tale of Two Cities

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
Charles Dickens, The Tale of Two Cities

On one side of the country, the sun's radiance beams unhindered by overcast, and the thermometer read eighty-five degrees as the golden chariot crosses the midpoint of her journey.  Her rays dance on the crystal expanse of the condo-side private pool.  If it's warmth grows tedious, the air-conditioning and thousand plus HD channels delivered through space via satellite to the wide screen plasma TV beckon me to comfort.  The spacious accommodations comprise, in-unit full washer and dryer, walk-in closet (just one of four abounding in storage), virgin plush carpets, balcony in the morning sun, and sprawling counter tops in the full-sized kitchen.  This is just the apartment complex: With lakes, mountains, exotic flora and fauna, and teeming metropolitan, nearly nothing is for want.  Sumptuous dinners at the finest establishments, choice beer, wine, and scotch with prices uninflatted by the state call for no yield or moderation.  The valley indeed is paradise.

In comparison, the spitting gray days, gripped tenaciously by six months of winter, pass as crystallized honey in a teeny, too cold apartment.  The cloistered quarters contain merely two closets, cluttered by shelves and too shallow for hangers, a crawl-space bathroom with after thought shower, and toy-sized refrigerator and oven.  The faded carpet for gets it's first colors and bears the scars on tenants long moved on.  A ten year old stereo takes the place of the thirty-inch flat screen; a second hand bicycle, the 2011 luxury sedan.  Pigeons besides great herons, seared salmon in balsamic reduction with oyster mushrooms replaced with pizza and beer from at the less than prestigious bar around the corner.  Cracking asphalt parking lot fills the back yard as opposed to the swimming pool.  The bleakness of the sober tones sharply contrast the vibrancy of the near ethereal hues of the former mentioned. 

So what if it was overcast and raining with 33 mph winds in Pgh--it was still one of the best days ever, biking with KG and Kenny.

In these two cities, I currently reside--one so basked in the glow of the heavenly surroundings that often it easy to see that indeed it is a piece of eternity, the other at times so far removed from what I identify as kingdom of heaven.  In one, nearly no effort is necessary to discover wholeness and happiness whether sitting at home or just yards from my front door; In the other, days are spent waiting and seeking for the joy I know so well in the other.  Whether running lakeside, hiking breath-taking ridges, or tanning by the pool in Phoenix, these actions and glamorized experiences reveal themselves at best mediocre without the ability to share them with those who embody the Kingdom of God in Pittsburgh*.  The contrasts between the pair exemplify "Paradise lost is Heaven found."


* These are just few of the folks I'm talking about, but LW did a great job explaining how we share life.


Postlude:
To be sure, any and all of my notions of black and white and binary, have always been shattered.  So know this is not saying Phoenix is hell and Pittsburgh is Heaven.  But rather it is another meditation, another illustration of being able to cling to that which matters and let go of that what doesn't.  Sunny weather, swimming pools, and posh apartments can bring happiness--but it's a meal of saltines and cheese food product in comparison to the lavish feast of authentic community, friendship, and life together.  


Before Kenny even came to Phoenix we began to pray that we would find where the Kingdom of God is breaking out--it's not at the fancy restaurants or VIP box at the Suns stadium, nor is it fully captured in glorious natural scenery.  We have found that the Paradise in this paradise, is group of diverse people struggling together through conflict, wrestling with theology, celebrating over engagements, new apartments, and new jobs, sharing life with one another and seeking God as one.