Sunday, December 18, 2011

Bearing God in this world

Part of a reflection by one of my favorite preachers, Kathryn Matthews Huey:
"Barbara Brown Taylor, not surprisingly, addresses with great insight the question of Mary's "choice," her freedom to respond in this most unusual situation, and our freedom as well. Yes, Taylor has said that the angel announced the impending birth and didn't ask Mary for her assent, but there is a choice for Mary, "whether to say yes to it or no, whether to take hold of the unknown life the angel held out to her or whether to defend herself against it however she could." We have a similar choice in our own lives, Taylor says: "Like Mary, our choices often boil down to yes or no: yes, I will live this life that is being held out to me or no, I will not; yes, I will explore this unexpected turn of events, or no, I will not." You can say no to your life, Taylor says, "but you can rest assured that no angels will trouble you ever again." And then she takes a bold turn that calls for courage on our part, if we say yes to our lives: "You can take part in a thrilling and dangerous scheme with no script and no guarantees. You can agree to smuggle God into the world inside your own body" ("Mothers of God" in Gospel Medicine). How are you bearing God in this world?"
I would suggest that this is probably the most important question we could ask ourselves this time of year. (Or at any time, for that matter.)

1 comment:

  1. It is an important point she raises and just happens to fit with a post I made on my blog earlier today, Dec. 19. It is a poem that, I think rather sums up your post.
    "If in your heart you make a manger for his birth,
    Then God will once again become a child on earth"-Angelus Silesius
    To me this simple poem speaks to the essence of what the Christmas story is about. For, unless we make a manger in our hearts for the birth of Christ, so that God will once again, and again, and again, become a child on earth, all the nativities and manger scenes in the world can be, for us, nothing more than warm fuzzy sentimentality.


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