I am the Lord’s Servant
I don’t often consider Mary in my Lenten
preparations. I associate her more with Christmas, the virgin whose body
brought God’s greatest gift into the world. And yet, reading this passage in
light of the season of preparation, I’m struck by how well it fits.
Lent is a time when we have to learn and relearn to
trust in God’s will. We give up crutches that we usually rely on to tell us who
we are, to tell us why we’re important, to make us comfortable and relaxed and
happy. Every year I experience anew my discomfort in relying on God alone to
meet my needs. It feels like a sacrifice to give up the distractions that help
to preserve my sanity - at the end of a long day or at times when I am
discouraged, I would often rather turn to episodes of ‘Call the Midwife’ and a
bar of chocolate than to God.
Mary is the believer that I would like to become
more like in Lent. She wasn’t asked to give up her distractions or coping
mechanisms or comfort blankets; she had to sacrifice her entire future to this
promised Gift. A pregnancy would’ve thrown her engagement, her reputation, her
entire life into question. And yet, her first response was not resistance, was
not questioning the Lord’s provision for her, was not requesting another way.
Her first response was ‘I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be
fulfilled.’ I fight harder than that when I feel God leading me to give up
sugar for a couple of months.
What would life look like if we lived as though we
could rely on the love and provision of the Lord? How would my choices, my
hopes, my dreams change if I were absolutely sure that I could trust God’s will
for my life and for those around me? How would I think about myself differently
if I listened more carefully to who my Father in heaven says that I am?
This Lent may we learn from the mother of Jesus
about what it means to trust in God. May we hear the whispers of his will and
respond as she did: ‘I am the Lord’s servant.’
Natalie Jones
"Interrupted in her spiritual meditations, the Virgin Mary modestly recoils from the archangel Gabriel (now lost), whose message foretells the birth of the Christ Child. The statuette's sensitively carved features and slight smile, elongated proportions, and graceful draperies show stylistic analogies to courtly art in Paris", ca. 1300–1310, made in Paris, France, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of J. Pierpont Morgan, 1917, www.metmuseum.org
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