Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

A pent-up sigh of sweet relief floated from his lips at her acquiescence. Although God had sent him to bear this announcement, he hadn’t been completely certain she’d agree. Not because he doubted God. Not at all. He doubted humans. Often leading with their emotions, they had a tendency to be fickle. He’d seen it a thousand times. Humanity grabbing up the torch of God and bolting headlong into His work only to become disgruntled, displeased, disappointed, discouraged, and toss the same torch to the ground in defiance and disobedience. He hoped it wouldn’t be the case this time. 

Watching the wash of emotions float over her countenance as he spoke was reassuring. It was almost as if he could see her mind processing his words. The startled fear that filled her at his sudden appearance dissipated only to be replaced with confusion as she sorted out his greeting. He hadn’t meant to be enigmatic. The words were supposed to calm and comfort. Who wouldn’t want to be told they were favored by God? 

The girl was right to be wary, though. She clearly suspected there was more to the statement than a simple blessing. She wasn’t wrong. He had so much to tell her. So much she wouldn’t understand. So many things she would find nearly impossible to grasp. Her mind would be flooded with answerless questions. Her faith would be tested to its outermost limits. The completion of this task would require her to fully trust the God she had never seen yet in whom she still chose to believe. 

Humanity was fickle that way, too. Trust came hard. They wanted to see before they believed. But faith doesn’t work that way. Faith is believing that the words God speaks are, through His omnipotence, “yes and amen.” No matter how long it takes for their fruition. Regardless of whether it happens the way you hoped. Whether or not you see it happen. Faith is unwavering confidence that what God has promised He will also perform. It is the unabated knowledge that you can trust His heart. Always. (II Corinthians 1:20; Romans 4:20-21)

Mary would need that faith, that confidence, that trust. Gabriel’s next words would reveal the exact reason for his visit. It was not news to be considered lightly. As the astonishing announcement of her impending miraculous conception and heavenly pregnancy washed over Mary, so did the questions. A thousand of them. How? How was she chosen? How would this happen? How would Joseph know she had not been unfaithful to their commitment? How would she share the news with her family and friends? How could she prove it was God’s child, not an illegitimate son conceived outside the bonds of marriage? More importantly, and most confounding of all, was one overarching question. How, exactly, did one parent the Son of God?

Gabriel had few answers, but the ones he did have were indisputable. God would do what God would do. Improbable things. Impossible things. Important things. Things the truly faithful had been waiting centuries to see happen. This Child would be proof, once again, that when God speaks, you can trust Him. And she did. Casting her faith in the God who had never once let her people down, led them astray, or forsaken them, Mary trustingly answered, “Yes!” (Luke 1:26-38)

It wouldn’t be the last time Mary would stand in the balance, weigh the options and answer, “Yes,” to God’s will, His way, His timing at the risk of her own heartache. It wouldn’t be the last time she would be pressed to trust His heart because His hand was horrifically obscured. As socially awkward as her ill-timed pregnancy may have been, harder times were coming. She must have known that. As the shepherds collected around that manger in the shadowy stable the night of Jesus’ birth, Mary looked on with the peaceful knowledge of Who she had birthed. As those men ran out into the streets telling everyone about the new baby in the stable three lanes over, Mary collected those confirming events in her heart for future moments of struggle and doubt. Times when she would need to remind herself that her Son was actually God’s Son, the Savior of the world. He was born for more than carpentry. He was born to save His people from their sins. (Luke 2:15-19)

Not once is it recorded that she breathed a word of His greatness. Not when she brought Him to the temple as an infant. Not when Simeon and Anna rejoiced with recognition. Not when they had to travel three extra days back to Jerusalem only to find Him sitting among the religious leaders listening and asking questions. Not even when His response to their concern for His welfare sounded more like rejection than respect. Even then, Mary simply collected the memories. Cherished the moments. Rested her soul in the treasured proof that her faith, her trust, her confidence had not been misplaced. Never once does she regret her choice. (Luke 2:22-51)

There would be opportunities to do so. Many of them. Surely as she watched the people of Nazareth, their hometown, refuse and reject her Son, she wished to speak up, tell them to wise up. She didn’t. Rejected when she and her sons visited the place He was speaking and asked to see Him, surely her heart was wounded at His response. In pain, she could have whispered frustrated words about His deity conflicting with His humanity. She didn’t. In actions we often find nearly impossible to emulate, Mary calls to mind all the things she knows to be true. She casts her faith and trust in God and, although she probably isn’t always excited about the results, she says, “Yes,” to whatever God the Father is doing through their Son. (Luke 4:16-30)

It’s difficult to imagine. At least for me. My stomach flutters in nervousness right along with hers as I picture Mary frantically searching for her missing 12-year-old in a strange city. My spine stiffens in indignation even as my heart spasms in pain when Jesus speaks those words that seem intent on maternal alienation, “Who is my mother and brothers?” I stand in awe that she could so quietly acquiesce, so calmly take her place, so carefully hold her tongue. I shake my head in amazement that, when every other human mother (myself included) would try to micromanage the situation, Mary, in faith, steps back and says, “Yes, Lord,” staying out of the way and allowing God to be God. Even on the hardest day of her life. (Luke 2:43-51; Matthew 12:46-50)

Hanging by nails painfully plunged through His hands and feet into the rough-hewn wood of the cross, Jesus saw her. The blood dripping from his pierced brow almost obscured her bent head, but His heart would recognize her anywhere. She’d been there through the entire grisly event. Her tear-filled eyes had watched as the soldiers ruthlessly fastened His battered, bruised, broken body to that wood and carelessly jostled it into a standing position. She’d listened to His labored breathing. Watched His pain and agony. Felt it as though it was her own. Although tears flowed in endless torrents down her face, she made not one sound. No cries of anger. No screams of pain. No abusive words to the soldiers. She didn’t fling herself at the foot of the cross to howl out her grief. No. In that dark moment, when her firstborn Son hung dying for no fault of His own so He could offer eternal life to undeserving mankind, Mary’s faithful heart echoed the same word it had repeated over and over again throughout the preceding decades. Mary said, “Yes,” to the will and way of the Father. (John 19:25-27)

My heart breaks at the scene. Not just over the immense injustice and unmitigated brutality. It breaks over the woman at the foot of the cross. The woman who has spent her entire motherhood yielding to a power greater than her own. A mother standing by and saying, “Yes,” when her mind was most assuredly screaming, “No!” I have no idea how she did that. My heart is filled with immeasurable respect for the woman we so often brush off as simply “Jesus’ mother”. We pay her no mind, give her no credit. Yet she could teach us so much. Her unending hope and faith and trust in the great plan of God vastly trumps our own. 

So often we stand on the sidelines of our lives attempting to yell instructions at God, inaccurately assuming our nearsighted vision is better than His farsighted plan. How frequently we approach His will with carefully planned arguments and attempted bartering tools. How infrequently we come before Him in absolute faith, trusting that He is for us, working on our behalf. So certain are we of our own superiority in planning and doing that we fail to take advantage of the opportunity to simply rest in the knowledge that God is with us, working for us in the midst of the things we don’t understand, the ones that aren’t going according to plan, the things that seem out of control. How rarely are we courageous enough to sit down, shut up, and let God be God. How unusual it is for our hearts to whisper, “Yes, Lord,” even when our heads are screaming something else entirely.

Perhaps it’s just me, though, who finds myself in this situation. Maybe you have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you have been peacefully whispering, “Yes, Lord,” your entire life with no intention of changing. From the bottom of my heart, I applaud you. Stay the course!  Lead the way! But, if you are down here with me, your feet still made of clay, your heart often barely whimpering out an, “Okay,” because the, “No,” in you is so strong, take heart. We can do this! We, too, can be like Mary. Not on our own, but with the help of Almighty God. 

How do I know? Can I prove it? You bet I can! The Word of God says so. It says the One who is in us is greater than the one who inhabits the world. The God who says we can do anything through Him is greater than the one who is against us. The Father who said His strength is sufficient for every problem, every trial, every ounce of suffering has promised and nothing can stop Him from fulfilling His word! So take heart! Anchor your hope and faith securely in the God who never abandons His people. Trust Him. Trust Him to know what you don’t know. Trust Him to do what you can’t do. Rest your soul in His promises, keep your mind stayed on Him, let His peace fill you, and just like Mary, may you confidently whisper, “Yes, Lord!”  (I John 4:4; Romans 8:31; Philippians 4:13; II Corinthians 12:9; Ezekiel 12:28; Deuteronomy 31:8; Isaiah 26:3-4)