Read Luke 1:30-38
I IMAGINE MARY, rubbing her eyes in the light cast by the angel in the doorway, the phosphorescence filtering through the dusty, dusky air of her room.
Some days, I imagine the angel appears to her as a young boy about her age, gazing at her with wide, curious eyes and cocked head, grinning as he makes his pronouncement about the good news that is coming through her. Other times, I imagine the angel as an older grandmother, kneeling in front of her and brushing the hair from her eyes, comforting her like a mother would upon delivering news that is about to change everything. Still other times, the angel is simply a flash of light, a pillar of fire in the wilderness, while Mary blinks, trying to absorb the message flooding her room, knowing that every moment in her life will arrange itself according to this one; there will be a before, and an after. “How shall this be?” Mary asks (v. 34, KJV throughout).
As an answer, the miraculous words from the angel slip into the warm air: “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God. … For with God nothing shall be impossible” (vv. 35, 37).
And suddenly, something happens, full of life and earthy glory, the presence of God somehow forming that which is new and real inside Mary’s womb.
The first time I heard these words—really heard them—I wept. Desperate to feel anything from El Roi, the God who Sees, I longed for a glimpse of the Holy Spirit coming upon me, the arms of the Most High cradling my small body curled up on my college apartment couch. I envisioned my own light-filled hope that God indeed saw me and instilled purpose within me, that I was worth the effort of drawing near.
Isn’t this what God is always doing, cultivating new mercies from a generous fount, an overshadow of his Spirit and a word of change? The poem of creation itself begins with these lines, a foreshadow of the kingdom to come:
“And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light” (Gen. 1:2–3).
This simple, impossible declaration that calls light out of darkness persists, enacted by a Spirit who is, even now, moving on our behalf. The same Spirit who lit the first sky with light, who became a pillar of fire in the wilderness, who poured out an unshakable presence into prophets, priests, and kings.
The same Spirit who overshadowed a young girl in Nazareth and created a holy thing inside her womb; the same Spirit who raised the girl’s son, the Word of God made flesh, to life 30 years later; who flung tongues of fire upon humanity to light our way, that we might all—Gentile and Jew, slave and free, male and female—see the beauty and presence of God together. The same Spirit is living within you, too.
In the midst of our own uncertainties, as we face the coming night, our bodies—like Mary’s, like Jesus’—have the capacity to hold the power of the Most High who is, even now, hovering over the face of the deep waters within us, creating a new way forward in the places we have deemed impossible.
This Advent season, may we practice echoing Mary’s words of acceptance—“be it unto me according to thy word” (Luke 1:38)—and pay generous attention as the Spirit fills us with power and love. May we pause and wonder on the stoop of our soul as the sun sets, as we wait for the promised light. May we feel the pillar of fire within us burn.
Alyssa Stadtlander is a writer and actress based in Boise, Idaho. Her work is published in Ekstasis, Mudfish Magazine, Fathom, and others.
This article is part of A Time for Wonder, a 4-week devotional to help individuals, small groups, and families journey through the 2024 Advent season. Learn more about this special issue that can be used Advent, or any time of year at http://orderct.com/advent.
