Magnifying the Lord

“My soul magnifies the Lord . . .” Mary’s song began and echoes across the centuries, still. From deep within, she uttered these words and, I’m sure, hummed the melody throughout her life, for in and through her entire life Mary sought to magnify the Lord. I wonder what the world, or our small part of it, would look like if we sought to magnify the Lord daily.

Do our homes magnify the Lord?

Do the words we use magnify the Lord?

Does our listening magnify the Lord?

Does the way we make a living magnify the Lord?

Does our giving magnify us or the Lord?

Does the way we spend our time magnify us or the Lord?

Does the way we respond to those in need magnify the Lord?

Do our political views and the way we vote magnify the Lord?

On my desk there’s a magnifying glass which I bought to remind me to look closely at the world around me, but today, in this season of Advent, its message is enhanced. It’s as convicting as it is inspirational, reminding me that my life should magnify the Lord. I suspect we all have a lot of work to do. 

How blessed are we to be given such an opportunity every day?

Making Room

The waitress comes to fill my coffee before I’ve had a chance to take a sip. With my mug full of my old coffee, there was no room for the new. Christmas carols play above, and I listen clinging to my mug with both hands and listening to the music as if kneeling at an altar rail.

The Christmas season can be like juggling emotional hand grenades. The highs are so high, and lows so low. The songs that surround us, many of which are set in minor keys, invite us into a seasonal descent toward thoughts and feelings we often ignore, or deny. Rather than avoid such a melancholy pilgrimage, I dive in, dive down and think about the people I miss and the memories that feel too distant. It’s like reaching into my soul with an ice cream scoop and removing the sediment that’s built up over time. It’s not easy work, nor comfortable, which is probably why people avoid it with stretched smiles, artificially stimulated joy, and calendars too full to reflect. 

There’s a strange relief on the other side, however. It’s as if my soul has more room to breathe when I clear out the old and make room for the new. 

The waitress returns and, this time, there’s room in my mug.

1. Do you ever have melancholy thoughts during this time of year? If so, do you ignore or deny them, or do you allow yourself to feel the feelings?

2. In what way can you make time this season to make room inside?

3. Pick one of your favorite Christmas songs and sit still for the whole thing, letting your heart and mind go where they will.

Beyond the Yes

The season of Advent begins with Mary and her “yes” to God. Given the emotional and theological sediment that has built up over two thousand years, it’s hard to grasp the magnitude of what was being asked of her. You’re going to bring God into the world, the angel said in whatever way an angel coveys such news.  I have no doubt Mary was stunned, shocked, and scared in ways the Bible account does not come close to capturing, but it does contain the most important fact: Mary said “yes.” Because of her yes, the world has never been the same.

For years, I’ve focused my attention and gratitude on Mary’s courageous yes, but now I see that what followed it was equally, if not more, remarkable. There’s the yes, then there’s life beyond the yes. Mary is to be venerated not only for agreeing to go along with God’s plan, but all she did after. If only we could follow her example.

I happen to believe we are visited by angels often and they always seem to be asking each of us to bring God into the world in some way. It may be through an act of service, the creation of a work of art, the giving of a gift, or some other incarnational act, but the invitations abound. Many of us say yes in our own way, but saying yes is nothing to what follows. The hard part is life beyond the yes.

I’ve always had a thing for yeses. They’re fun and exciting, particularly for people with my personality. All the newness and infinite possibilities fill my soul like nothing else. My struggle always comes after the yes, and, I suspect I’m not unique. Suddenly, we find ourselves as uncomfortable as Mary riding on a donkey, as surprised by our surroundings as Mary giving birth in a stable, and as challenged as she must have been at the foot of the cross. Life on the other side of yes is never easy, never what we expect, but that’s life beyond the yes, I suppose. 

Like God, life beyond the yes surpasses all human understanding, but, if we’re willing to go along and do our part, we might end up bringing God into the world, and that’s something that makes angels sing.

1. Think of a time when you were invited to bring God into the world. Did you say yes, or make an excuse to say no?

2. For those times when you said yes, what was life like beyond the yes?