An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife
Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.
MARY Visits Elizabeth
While I waited for Father to “think it through,” the tension in our household grew—Mother unwilling to believe, Father angry and disappointed. It came to me, now I have to see Elizabeth. Kind, godly Elizabeth. She will know what to do.
And so I quietly began to prepare for the journey that would take me to my cousin in the hill country of Judea. Seeing my determination, my father finally agreed reluctantly that it might be well for me to get away for a few months, and he made arrangements for me to travel part way with another family who were making a trip in that direction. He hired two young men to accompany me the rest of the way and to return home with the donkeys.
“This is not necessary, Father,” I protested. “I’ll be just fine. I can go that last little way by myself. I’ve gone many times with you and Mother.”
“That’s not the point!” he roared. “This is not a leisurely stroll you’re taking down some country road! It’s hard to say whom you might encounter along the way—rebels, fugitives, thugs. You simply cannot go by yourself! I wouldn’t allow it even under the best of circumstances! And most certainly, not now!”
Tears came quickly to my eyes and I bowed my head, trying to hide them. This was very definitely not the best of circumstances. I was the expectant one, but for the rest of the family, too, it was to become a difficult and highly embarrassing situation. I wanted to yell back, “Then don’t bother—just leave me alone! Send the hired men away. Keep your old donkeys! I don’t even want your help.” Oh, why does this have to be so hard for everyone?
Father saw the tears anyway. “Don’t cry now,” he said more gently. “I won’t be able to take care of my little girl very much longer. You know, that's very hard for me. I have to do, at the very least, this much for you.”
I understood then. My father loved me—I knew he did, in his own gruff way—and he had believed his love could protect me from hardship and hurt until I went into my own home where a husband would then care for me. He felt afraid for me, threatened, because now I had created a situation where he couldn’t help me.
But no—no, I hadn’t made this happen at all. It was all God’s doing. The only thing I had done was whisper, “Yes, let it be.” Mother, Father, Joseph, the baby to come—they were all in God’s hands. I would just have to entrust to God’s mercies the care and comfort of those I loved.
I learned a great deal during the three months I spent with Elizabeth and Zacharias. From the very first hour I arrived, my cousin affirmed my place in the Divine plan. She heard me calling a hello from the hill just beyond their home and she hurried out to meet me just as fast as her round, very-pregnant body would let her.
Elizabeth pulled me into her warm embrace, and then even before I could tell her why I had come, she burst out, “Oh Mary! God has chosen you! You are the woman through whom God is going to send the Promise. He’s chosen you, Mary! I know it. The Child you bear is the Lord! My own baby leaped for joy within me when you called from the hill just now! You are blessed because you have believed! There shall be a fulfillment of everything that was told you by the Lord!”
Because I believed! Fulfillment of the promise because I believed! In that moment, I understood the turmoil of the first days after the angel Gabriel’s visit. That was a waiting time, a testing to see if I could receive through faith what God was promising. What if I had not believed? What if I had not chosen to believe?
My questions about what was going to happen to me, my uneasiness about how to explain things to Elizabeth, my fears about what to tell the village busybodies who would soon be making calculating observations, my sorrow at embarrassing Joseph and hurting my parents—all these fell away like a cloak one throws off in the warm sunshine. I lifted my hands, still clasping Elizabeth’s, and I danced and sang worship to the great Promise-Keeper.
(To be continued)
MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)
Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com
No comments:
Post a Comment