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“And Mary said: ‘My soul magnifies and exalts the Lord, And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior. For He has looked [with loving care] on the humble state of His maidservant’…”—Luke 1:46-48, Amplified
Just about every musical interpretation of these famous words from scripture is joyful and triumphant. A resounding anthem of faith that has stirred and encouraged men and women at Christmas and all year long. But it’s good to remember that though Mary was chosen of the Lord, she was human like us. And so I wonder if, just maybe, instead of belting out an anthem from the opening downbeat, Mary’s voice was shaking and a bit subdued at first. Think about it. Everything within her must have been screaming thoughts like these:
“My life is crazy right now. People are beginning to press in with their opinions, demands for answers to the unexplainable or, worse, saying absolutely nothing but walking by with a suspicious or even judgmental smile. I really don’t feel like singing. I’m tired of it all already. A part of me would rather stay home. But somehow, through it all, in spite of myself, I still believe. I surprised myself with the words that blurted out of my mouth in that knee-knocking encounter with the angel of the LORD: “let it be to me according to your word.” His word. That’s it—His Word! That is what I’m holding on to, not because it is some magical pixie dust but because it—because GOD—has never failed. Even when I’m not feeling it. He is always true. Even when my belief wavers. He speaks with an enduring, everlasting love. Even though the piercing negative words from others are weighty. And so, I will open my mouth and tell my soul once more—and anyone else who wants to listen—as with a turbo-charged magnifying glass what is true about my God and His love for me, what really matters, and what alone is always trustworthy. It’s not that He is small, He’s just small in my own eyes at the moment. But then I remind my soul: His mercy extends forever and ever to all who will believe. He has performed mighty deeds over and over again. He has brought down that which needs to be brought down. He has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things. He has remembered His promises—every single one of them”…
And so Mary started singing. And with each passing line, a crescendo, as though a train coming from a distance and then roaring by. And with each magnification, perhaps a dance. Arrows of declaration awakening her heart and splitting the darkness that sought to press in. Faith was stirred once more. The temporal is still real but is put in its proper place. That which is eternal takes its rightful place in perspective—the perfections of heaven touching earth with hope, healing, deliverance, provision, and love beyond a fleeting emotion.
Why is this detail of Mary's song in the Bible? As a critical piece of the Christmas story, for sure. But maybe also as a reminder that God totally gets us all year long—that everyone, including pastors and worship leaders and musicians, and even the mother of the Savior of the world—would sometimes rather stay home than stand up and worship because, to be honest, “My life/day/week is crazy right now. People are pressing in with their demands, and I’m not just feeling it.”
Until, as it did once again in the middle of this week, just as it—just as He—had done countless times before, the whole atmosphere and attitude shifted to their rightful place when words that “magnify” came out of my mouth.
How does that happen? It’s a mystery, really, from a God beyond figuring out. But there is this unshakeable goodness: There is no “I” in He, and down through the ages, that has made all the difference to countless millions of worshipers who were “not feelin’ it” when they stood up to sing but felt everything within them shift when they looked Up and opened their mouths anyway.
So be it, Lord, this morning. And especially in the middle of the week.
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