Who’s your role model?Like Mary, the little girl from Nazareth, we, too, are invited to bring Christ into the world. The story began just over 2,008 years ago … and continues today. Balancing a water jug on her head, Mary strolled along the path that led to the well. The early morning solitude was broken only by the twittering of a handful of sparrows. She watched as the tiny birds flitted across the early morning sky. Returning her gaze to the path ahead, Mary squinted into the misty sunlight and rubbed her eyes. There, near the well, someone appeared. A supernatural glow surrounded the figure, and Mary trembled at the sight. “Congratulations, favored lady,” the angel Gabriel said. “The Lord is with you” (Lk 1:28) Mary froze. We’re told she was confused and distressed. I can only imagine. I would be, too. In the moments that followed, Mary’s carefree world turned upside down. “Don’t be frightened, Mary,” the angel began (Lk 1:30). He explained that God had plans for her to become pregnant, have a baby and that she was to name him Jesus. Mary shifted her clay jar to the ground, absorbing the words. She wrinkled her nose and scratched her head, wondering how this could happen. She was, after all, a virgin. The angel replied, “The Holy Spirit shall come upon you, and the power of God shall overshadow you; so the baby born to you will be holy; the Son of God” (Lk 1:35). This made about as much sense as turning water to wine, inviting a paralytic to walk or feeding multitudes with seven loaves and two fish. It made about as much sense as an unexplainable healing, restoration of a difficult marriage or an unexpected provision during economic struggles. How could these things happen? But there was something convincing in the message, something beyond human understanding, something divine. So, despite the contradictions, the young virgin believed. And in that belief, Mary put herself at risk. If she became pregnant out of wedlock, Joseph, her betrothed, was entitled to leave her. Under Jewish law, she could be stoned for her crime. Shame, abandonment, even death threatened her dreams of security, a home and a family. Mary knew that. Unlike Mary, I’ve chosen safety and comfort when the perils were far less than that. The first time God called me to carry Christ into the world, I cringed at the risk. A lonely girl sat under the overpass, arms folded around bended knees, head ducked down. As I sat in my vehicle waiting for the light to change, an angel whispered to me, “Stop. She needs your help. Do something. Offer an encouraging word.” Instead, I winced at the ramshackle neighborhood and shut my window. I wanted to help, but I was afraid, confused and distressed. I watched the traffic light turn green, and zoomed away. Mary, however, offers a different response. Somewhere, somehow, deep within, her reply came without hesitation, without trepidation and without faltering. It arrived with strength, conviction and composure. It was unfettered by the dangers involved. “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary said, “and I am willing to do whatever he wants. May everything you said come true.”
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