Mary's Story...

I think I posted this last year and the year before last. I always come back to it at Christmas. It's not a great piece of writing. It's not the perfect explanation of the story. But, it's mine. I know not everyone who reads it understands it. I like that. Because at the time, it was for me. A way of letting go of what was trapped in my mind at the time. 19. Headed overseas. Looking down the barrel of what it would really cost to give my life for Christ. I've always been fascinated by Mary. And this is what all of that together looked like for me in December of 1999. Merry Christmas!


Mary’s Story

The sun set in the expanse before them. And the soft tints of the watercolor sky soon melted into a blue and then a deeper black. As the warmth of the day followed the sun’s lead, the cold crept in and settled around them. The streets of the unfamiliar city were empty, hollowed out after the fullness of the day. And the echo of hoofs pierced the silence and bounced from cobbled street to stony wall and startled the ears of the little donkey responsible for all the noise. The little animal’s legs were beginning to buckle under the weight of several days’ load and a weak expectant mother. The child on the donkey’s back turned her face to heaven and prayed for provision in the long night she knew she had ahead.

Her husband pushed the weary crew along as quickly as possible and the cold of the night fogged his face with every breath. It became clearer with every step taken, that a place to rest was necessary. But after knocking on several doors that were closed in his face, he began to lose hope. Then on the outskirts of town, at a small inn, he pounded on the door and prayed as he watched the spark of a candle move from an upstairs room, down an outside hallway and disappear. A man appeared, opening the heavy door just to give a loud refusal and close the door in his face, again. But as the innkeeper turned to close the door, a desperate father stepped in between them and begged, “A closet or even the stables. Anywhere my wife can lay her head. Please!?” The man started, half asleep, and peered around him to see the young mother draped over the back of the tired little donkey. And instead of turning them away, he motioned for them to follow him.

The innkeeper led them around the inn to the crest of a hill and pointed beyond the wall of the city where the rolling pastures left the flame-lit streets and became a dark grey. There was a shadow of an old stable, nestled into the face of a cave, and he granted them use of it for what was left of the night. And in a relieved huff, this father grabbed the donkey by the reigns and forced it into the dark that lie beyond the city and finally to the walls of the stable. Nervous now, because he knew their baby boy was close, he fumbled in the dark to find something, anything, to make a fire. And just as he had it lit, he turned for his wife and she collapsed, exhausted in his arms.

Who would have ever known looking at her, what a dramatic change her small life had taken over the past year? Sometimes, she wondered if this was all a dream. In the excitement of her engagement, her family had spent months focusing on wedding plans and she had all but disappeared to them. So she spent hours in the temple, and the priests had begun to recognize her as part of the temple tapestry. Day after day, too overwhelmed with what was going on at home, she found refuge on her knees and the God of Israel became hers. Sometimes his reality was so overwhelming to her that she cried out to him for his tangible presence. At times, there, facedown, she could feel Him and she listened to His voice and she fell deeper in love with Him. And days turned into months.

The wedding grew close. One night she woke from sleep and there at the foot of her bed stood an angel. She wiped her eyes, then tried to let out a cry, but she was overcome with peace. So, she waited and she listened. The angel spoke of how she had found favor in the eyes of God, and she was to bear a child. He was to save the nations and she was to call Him Emmanuel, God with us. She spent the rest of the night in prayer, and as the darkness began to fade, she knew she must speak to her Joseph. In the quiet of the early morning, she rushed through the back alleys of the city until she reached his home. She paced the ground, head down, looking for the perfect pebble to toss into his window, knowing he was still asleep. And as she tossed it into his second story window, she heard it echo against the floor and when he appeared she prayed for words.

The next couple of days were a blur to her. There had been anger. Hurt. Accusation. But, in her heart, she was certain and she knew her God would provide. So she waited. And in a sweep of secrecy, the marriage plans collapsed and the two were wed in the privacy of family. Then she and her husband went into hiding on the outside of town. Lonely months went by and then depended on each other and a God who had been faithful and they prayed day in, day out, for the child that was quietly taking shape in her womb. Only heaven knew. And now, in a stable outside of Bethlehem, she waited on the promised Savior, her son, her baby boy. Their prayer, “God have your way, your will be done. Touch his hands, guide his feet, and keep his heart. Not ours, he is yours. God’s gift to a waiting world. Your will be done.”

The Savior of the Nations didn’t come in a blaze of glory or with the shout of trumpets. Instead, He came in the midst of brokenness. His mother only a child. His bed a feeding trough. The birth of King Jesus caused disruption and He re-arranged plans. But His plans are perfect. He loved us enough, to leave His Father and be one of us. He brought freedom, and truth, and righteousness, and TRUE love all in a baby’s cry. And Christ, God Himself, was born in a stable.