Mary's Yes: The Annunciation and the Handmaid of the Lord | Advent Day 19

She was young. She was poor. She lived in a village that sophisticated people mocked. "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Galileans spoke with accents that marked them as provincial. They lacked Jerusalem's refinement. Into this obscurity, Gabriel came. The same angel who had silenced Zechariah now appeared to a young woman named Mary, betrothed to Joseph, a carpenter descended from David's line. "Greetings, O favored one, the Lord is with you!" The Greek "kecharitomene" speaks of grace already given. God had been preparing Mary before this moment arrived. She was troubled, not by the angel's appearance, but by the greeting itself. "Do not be afraid, Mary. You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." David's throne. Jacob's house. Forever. Gabriel wove together prophecies accumulated for a thousand years. Mary asked: "How will this be, since I am a virgin?" The question differed from Zechariah's doubt. Both asked "how?" But Zechariah demanded proof. Mary accepted the word and wondered about the method. She sought understanding, not evidence. "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you." The language echoes Exodus 40. When Moses finished the Tabernacle, the cloud covered it and glory filled it. Now that overshadowing would happen within a human body. Mary would become what the Tabernacle had been. Fra Angelico painted this Annunciation in the 1440s for a monk's cell in Florence. Gabriel bows on the left, iridescent wings folded. Mary sits on the right, attentive and receptive. A slender column divides the scene, the meeting point between heaven and earth. Gabriel's robes shimmer with otherworldly light. Mary wears blue over red, heaven covering humanity. Both figures cross their hands in mutual submission to God's will. Consider what Mary's yes would cost. In her society, pregnancy during betrothal invited disgrace. Joseph could have had her stoned. Her reputation would be destroyed. The scandal would never entirely disappear. Yet Mary said yes. "Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word." The Greek "doule" means slave. A slave had no independent will. Mary placed herself entirely at God's disposal. Whatever He wanted, she would do. Whatever it cost, she would pay. In the garden, Eve said yes to disobedience, and death entered the world. Now another woman faced another choice. Mary said yes to obedience, and life entered the world. What the first woman's yes had broken, the second woman's yes began to heal. Nazareth's insignificance fits the pattern we have traced through Advent. God chooses the overlooked. A teenage girl in a provincial village received the invitation that philosophers and priests might have expected. Mary did not understand everything. She pondered things in her heart for years. Understanding followed obedience rather than preceding it. Her yes came before her comprehension. Faith acted first. God invites your yes today. The request may seem impossible. The cost may seem too high. The implications may stretch beyond your understanding. Mary faced all of this. She said yes anyway. Your yes matters. Every obedient response participates in what God is doing. Mary's submission made room for the Savior. Your submission makes room for His work in your world. The scale differs. The pattern remains. This Advent, speak Mary's words: "Let it be to me according to your word." Stop demanding explanations before compliance. Stop calculating costs before commitment. The handmaiden's posture opens heaven. Speak your yes. Let the Most High overshadow. What He begins in you will be called holy. Tomorrow Elizabeth greets Mary, and the baby in Elizabeth's womb leaps for joy.