Possibility out of Impossibility

What would have happened if Mary had said no?

It is really tempting to create a picture in which Mary is just waiting around for Gabriel to show up. It’s really tempting to create a picture in which it made all the sense in the world for Mary to say yes, to tie up the whole 4^th Sunday of advent and Nativity all into one story that make sense.

But it seems like there would have been many good reasons to say no.

Mary could have said, “I’m busy.”

She could have said, “But I’m too young.”

She could have said, “But I have no idea how to do this.”

She could have said, “This is too much change. I don’t want to change.”

Mary could have given God all of the excuses that we give God when we are asked to bear the light of Christ into the world. Because sometimes it’s easier to say no to God than it is to live into what God calls us. Because trusting and depending on God, even if we know all the right words, even if we know when to say them, are really difficult. It is difficult to allow God to pry our lives, our loved ones and all of the things we try to trust instead of God out of our clenched fists.

Gabriel comes to Mary and tells her that she is favored. And Mary is confused. Maybe she was trying to think through all the things that she had done earlier in that day, wondering if she had eaten some bad lentils; maybe she was trying to figure out how she could be favored because she knew that she hadn’t done anything to earn such favor. But wait, it gets weirder: then Gabriel tells Mary that she is going to conceive a child and that he will sit on the throne of David that hasn’t had anyone sitting on it for four hundred years. The last time a king was promised that his offspring would be on the throne forever, it turned out to be not quite true. Judah was conquered by the Babylonians, and the Babylonians were conquered by the Persians, and the Persians were conquered by the Romans, and the Romans were quick to depose pretender-kings and rebellions in their regions. It all sounds impossible. It all sounds really unbelievable.

But how often, when we’re invited to believe the impossible, do we balk and try to make sense of it and try to rationalize and try to figure out just how everything is going to work out, with our neat little spreadsheets and lists of pros and cons, trying to make sense of this God who shows up in the unlikeliest of places – the womb of an unmarried teenage girl, in the womb of an aged barren woman – and breathes possibility into our protests of impossibility.

“For nothing will be impossible with God.”

Gabriel gives Mary no guarantees: he doesn’t guarantee that she will be safe, he doesn’t safeguard her against morning sickness or swollen ankles or the curious stares of onlookers at the marketplace who notice her swelling belly. “We all know where babies come from, Mary.”

“Let it be with me according to your word,” is Mary’s yes, but her yes is also a confession: it is a confession of belief in the God who is in the habit of doing impossible things.

So… what is God drawing you into?

Sometimes, it’s a lot easier to see God moving through other people’s lives – through Bible characters, through people who seem more faithful, more prayerful, more able than us. So we are sideswiped when we realize that we all have calls.

After Gabriel leaves Mary, she leaves with haste to go to Elizabeth. Luke doesn’t tell us why she does so: maybe she was seeking the wisdom of an older relative; maybe she wanted to spend time with another woman going through pregnancy for the first time; maybe, knowing that the punishment for infidelity was public stoning and the assumptions people would make, Mary went to Elizabeth because she couldn’t figure out where else to go. Even when we are confident that we are doing what God wants us to be doing, sometimes it’s incredibly scary. It takes the dreams and the things we imagined for our lives and sets them a little off kilter.

We tend to paint a picture of Mary as a confident young woman, and on some days, she probably was. But I cannot help but wonder if, as though just realizing the weight of it all, of realizing the responsibility, of realizing the danger, of realizing that she wasn’t sure she could do all of this as the height of morning sickness was beginning, Mary left town hastily because she swore to herself a long time ago she’d never let these people see her cry. It couldn’t have been real, could it? Why her, of all people? Why this baby? Why now? Even though Mary was favored by God, this favor wouldn’t spare her the stares or the clucking tongues or the judgment. So Mary walks the 100 miles to Elizabeth’s, her face stained with dust and tears, her clothes dusty from the journey. I imagine her wiping off her face, trying to hide her fears with the confidence in her voice: “Hello? Is anybody home? It’s Ma…”

Elizabeth, meanwhile, has been in seclusion with a silent husband for the past six months. The child in her womb has likely heard no voices besides his mother’s, and leaps for joy at the sound of Mary’s voice. And Elizabeth doesn’t ask Mary any questions, she doesn’t stop for a moment. I imagine her not even waiting for Mary to finish her greeting. “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb… and blessed is she who believed the fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the LORD.” It was true. It was real.

Mary doesn’t sing the Magnificat when Gabriel tells her she is favored. She doesn’t sing when Gabriel tells her that her son is going to bear the heir to the throne of David. She sings the Magnificat after Elizabeth blesses her. Through Mary’s yes, the world is turned upside down:

You have cast the mighty down from their thrones,

And uplifted the humiliated.

You have filled the hungry with good things,

And sent the wealthy away empty.

You have kept your promises.

It is tempting to say “No” to God because we are afraid that God’s promises aren’t true. It is tempting to say no because we realize how difficult life is when we let go of the illusion of control. It is tempting to say no because we aren’t a people who believe in impossible things. Far too intelligent and far too rational, we respond to Mary “We all know where babies come from, Mary.”

But what would the world look like if we said yes? What would it look like for us to confess that God is in the habit of doing impossible things? What would it look like if we believed – really believed – that a helpless infant could save the world? What would it look like if, for just a minute, we put down our lists of pros and cons and our reasonings and all the things that we cling to to make sense of our lives, and lived into the reality that God is calling each of you to do the impossible?

“For nothing will be impossible with God.”

After over 400 years with no king on the throne of David, Gabriel is sent to a young woman, who said yes. Yes to the God who breathes possibility into all of our protests of impossibility. Yes to the God who was not content to remain distant from you, but chose to come and dwell among you, even as Christ comes to you now, inviting you to watch and wait for the God in and through whom nothing is impossible.