Mary's Boy

Hey, thanks so much for joining me for Scattered Moments and this second episode in this featurette about mothers. You know, we're all connected through mothers somehow, some way, and Jesus was no different. It all began with an angelic whisper in the quietness of an ordinary life. Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And with those words, a young woman from Nazareth stepped into the mystery of redemption. But every miracle carries weight, every calling carries sorrow. And not long after Bethlehem, while cradling the infant Jesus in the temple courts, Mary heard words that would follow her all the way to the cross. An old man named Simeon looked into her eyes and said, This child is destined to cause the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and a sword will pierce your own soul too. Can you imagine hearing that as a mother? She carried him to Bethlehem through dust and exhaustion. She brought him into the world among the sounds of animals and weary travelers. She held the one who spoke galaxies into existence, and still he was Mary's boy. She protected him from Herod, all of Herod's madness. While soldiers hunted little boys through Bethlehem, Mary fled into the night, carrying her child against her chest, because Mary was a warrior. Because a mother's love is fierce, holy, protective. It dares all things, and somewhere in the darkness of those terrible nights the cries of grieving mothers rose into heaven while Rachel wept for her children. God heard every cry. Years later, they lost him once again, not in a marketplace, not in a Walmart aisle in Jerusalem. Three long days searching crowded streets with no answers. Can you feel the panic in her voice when they finally found him? Where have you been? We've been searching everywhere for you. And then those mysterious words, don't you know I must be in my father's house? Perhaps in that moment Mary remembered the angels, the shepherds, the wise men kneeling before the cradle, and yet even then he was Mary's little boy. Then came letting go. Maybe that's one of the hardest parts of motherhood. God gives mothers this fierce and beautiful attachment to their children, and then he asks them to release them into the world. For thirty years she watched rough carpenter hands grow strong. And then one day her son left home for war. The war of the ages. We catch glimpses of her during those ministry years. At Cana. She quietly told the servants, Whatever he tells you to do, just do it. And that's what great mothers do. They are often the ghost riders of masterpieces, working gently, praying silently, standing just outside the spotlight while shaping eternity in hidden places. But the sword Simeon spoke of was still waiting. She heard the crowds mock him. She watched hatred spit venom toward the sun that she once rocked to sleep. The child she fed, bathed, embraced, now carried across through the streets of Jerusalem, and there she stood beneath that cross, watching him struggle for breath, perhaps remembering nights when he slept as a little boy, his tiny back rising and falling in peaceful sleep. And now every breath and agony. And there, in those final moments, Jesus looked down and spoke. Son, behold your mother. Even while burying the sin of the world, he cared for his mother. Then darkness fell, and Mary watched her son die. Creator, Redeemer, King above all kings, and somehow still Mary's boy. But the sword would not have the final word, the grave would not keep him, and one day the tears of Mary would give way to resurrection astonishment. Because the son she carried would one day carry us all. The Lord gives, the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. That's today's scattered moment. Take care. Notice the scattered moments and share the grace.