How to Remember What Matters Most
Excerpted from The Women of Christmas by Liz Curtis Higgs
It was time. All across Judea people went about their business, trading their goods and tending their flocks, unaware, unprepared. But Mary, Joseph, and all of heaven knew. He is coming. We can’t be certain how close to term Mary was, but definitely “in the later stages of her pregnancy.”
Tradition and Hollywood often show her reaching the edge of town at the first contraction, but that’s not found in Scripture. She and Joseph may have been in Bethlehem for some time before she went into labor. With a sigh of relief, we can probably let go of the image of an about-to-give-birth Mary being jostled on the back of a donkey. Even so, she didn’t have long to wait. Joseph and Mary were still in Bethlehem, the streets and houses crowded with visitors, when her pregnant days were over.
Like John before him, Jesus didn’t come prematurely but arrived when “the days were fulfilled,” and “she came to the end of her time” at the exact moment God had ordained. Whether she labored three hours or thirty, whether a midwife was present or Joseph alone assisted in the delivery process, Mary gave birth to a son. We have no birth weight, no length, no Apgar score. Were his extremities pink? Was his pulse rate over one hundred? Did he have a strong, lusty cry?
He came for those he loves.
He came for you.
Here’s what matters most: the prophecies had all come true, the miracle was complete, and the Savior rested in Mary’s embrace. This child of the Holy Spirit was her child too, with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes, with olive skin and a dark whorl of hair. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” On that sacred day God became more than a pillar of cloud or a pillar of fire. He became flesh and blood and bone. He became one of us. Mary focused on caring for her baby while she stored all she’d seen and done “like a secret treasure in her heart.” Some women like to talk their way through experiences; others prefer the Mary approach: “weighing and pondering,” “mulling them over,” and “trying to understand them.”
Sometimes the Lord does such a profound work in us and through us that sharing it with others would sound like bragging. Even if we say, “Look what God has done,” others may perceive it as “Look what I’ve done” or “Look how special I am!” God, as always, knows best. The shepherds were noisy, yet the mother of Jesus was quiet. Others would take his story far and wide, encircling the earth with his truth. Mary was called to be his mother—no more and no less. To nurture him, to feed and clothe him, to teach him all she knew of his heavenly Father. As to these things she had treasured up, “holding them dear, deep within herself,” Gabriel had given her quite a list of attributes for this child, starting with “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.”
Whenever she held her baby boy, those angelic words surely ran through her mind. He didn’t look like a monarch, but one day he would be called “Lord of lords and King of kings.” He didn’t have the strength to hold up his head, let alone stand on his feet, yet he is the One “who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy.” Just as Mary “committed these things to memory,” we can do the same—not only at Christmas time, but all through the year—thinking about who Jesus is and why he came to earth as a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes. He came for those he loves. He came for you.