Inspiration came on Christmas Eve as we came together with our church family for the candlelight service. Our pastor spoke of this teenage girl giving birth to the Messiah of the world. So young and full of zeal for her faith, she submitted so that the will of the Everlasting God could find fulfillment within her womb. She spent her first trimester with her cousin Elizabeth (likely assisting in that prophesied child’s birth), and returned to Nazareth when the baby bump that was Jesus was just starting to show. The speculation and side-glances would have persisted no matter how often they were to insist this child was of the Holy Spirit. Then to be miles away from home, quite possibly sore from traveling 90 miles to Bethlehem in her condition, Mary was now bearing down to deliver the Son of God in a stable. As the smell of hay and animal habitat filled her nostrils, could she be wondering if she was doing all this wrong? Maybe the imposter syndrome many have with such big callings made her wonder if God was regretting His choice? There is much that happens on the eve of a moment.
In the dim light of the Christmas Eve service, I remembered my own teenage pregnancy. Although definitely not divine it led me to empathize with Mary. There had been those who speculated whether I and my boyfriend (now husband at my side in the delivery room) were making all the wrong choices as two 17 year-olds starting a family. I can still recall a brief moment as I began pushing where all these scenes of my child growing up flashed through my mind. Scraped knees after falling off a bike, playing with toys that littered the floor, learning to drive, and many more images of a lifetime of raising this child rushed like a cacophony of pictures. Too much to process in one heartbeat and the weight of it made me say out loud, “I can’t do this!” My young husband thought I was talking about the delivery and encouraged me, but it was this mega-download of everything to come that overwhelmed me in that instance. Years later, I had another woman confirm she had a similar experience with her first delivery and it led me to wonder if this is something innate in some women. This Christmas Eve, as I pondered Mary in that stable, I wondered if she could’ve had this rush of images. A young Jesus learning to hammer at Joseph’s side, running around the dusty streets of Nazareth with other kids, or could she even have had a flash of the crucifixion come in that moment before Jesus drew his first breath; choking back her own wondering if she could really see all this through?
Then my thoughts went to Jesus and the eve of his moments. That night of anticipation in the garden before Calvary as events were unfolding already. Could there have been something similar on the eve of the pre-incarnate Jesus being poured into one of these clay jars we call the human form? The image of God—who had lunch with Abraham before wiping out Sodom & Gomorrah, who got in a wrestling match with Jacob, who strolled with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the furnace, and knew no distinction in the triune of God before now—was about to be set apart to bring all back to the Father. He would already know what was to unfold, so could the flashes of faces of people and the moments that make up a life rush as He descended? The idea of it all is as glorious as it is humbling.
Maybe you find yourself on the eve of a moment or mission, overwhelmed with the enormity of a call that lies before you. In those times it is best to remember that this current moment is all that is being asked of you for now. The other moments that lie ahead will have their turn, but you need only be here for this one. As time stretches on, you’ll see what once seemed like a cacophony of images that loomed large before now form the picture of a beautiful life when placed in their order. May each moment serve to bring you ever closer to God.
Author Dellaca Ferraiz Reynolds 