It was almost a year ago when I made a wild claim that I would be writing more in 2025, and here I find myself in December sitting down to write for the first time since. Better late than never, as they say. We’ve entered week two of Advent, and I’m still on week one. We’ll stick with my “better late than never” mantra and look past that detail for now. My hope (no pun intended) is to write a reflection for each week of Advent this year. We’ll call it a win if I complete it before the new year!
Shortly after publishing my first post of the year I found out I was pregnant with our second baby, and I suppose my goals for the year shifted as soon as I saw that second pink line appear. A baby was coming. News like that has a way of changing you. It has a way of reprioritizing your life, your thoughts, your plans, and your prayers. Suddenly, there’s something new to hope for.
I’m not much for journaling typically, but with each of my pregnancies I have dedicated a new journal to document, reflect, and, mostly, pray for my pregnancy. Those early days feel so fragile and, honestly, terrifying. You’re excited, but also guarded. You have hope for this new life trying to find a home inside your uterus, but you aren’t naive to all that has to go right for this baby to come into the world. Turns out, that’s really just the beginning of things to worry about.
Modern science gives us way more knowledge about fetal health and development in utero than Mary had available to her when she was growing and carrying Jesus, so I can’t assume she was all too worried about passing her glucose screening or deciding if she wanted to get any genetic testing done — she definitely didn’t have to worry if the ultrasound tech got the gender of her baby wrong, she had a pretty strong source for that one. While her experience being pregnant with Jesus is incredibly different from my own experiences being pregnant in the 21st century, I can’t help but wonder what it was like for her to hope for this very special child — someone she had been hoping for long before she learned she would be the one to bring Him into the world.
I can’t help but believe that there are elements of motherhood that are experienced by every woman who has ever held the title, no matter what century their child was born. Did Mary doubt her ability to care for him? Did she worry she put too many layers on him while he was sleeping? Did she peek over the side of the manger and put her hand lightly on his chest to make sure he was still breathing, careful not to wake him? Were all of her fears magnified because she was responsible for keeping GOD alive? Or did she have that thought and realize how ludicrous that actually sounds? We don’t know what kept Mary awake at night, beyond a cluster-feeding infant, but it’s fun to consider. Maybe one of the most awe-inspiring realizations about Jesus coming to us through a human woman is that Mary most certainly had fears and doubts about pregnancy, delivery, and motherhood, and she was still used by God in the most profound way.
This Advent season I’m getting a new experience of mothering a newborn baby boy. While it would be silly to compare my experience exactly to what Mary experienced birthing the Messiah in Bethlehem in 4 BC, her story and perspective certainly hold special meaning to me this year. I have always been quite intrigued by Mary and what she may have experienced in the waiting of her son and Messiah.
This year for Advent I went to my favorite Bible resource, The Bible Project, to help me find a manageable reading plan. Along with reading plans, they have really great videos that explain the four key themes of Advent — Hope, Peace, Joy, Love. One line in the “Hope” video particularly grabbed my attention.
God’s past faithfulness is what motivates our hope for the future. You look forward by looking backward, trusting nothing other than God’s character.
Our hope is not dependent on our circumstances, rather the faithfulness and character of God. The video goes on to describe hope as a habit. Placing our hope in God’s character takes practice and intentionality.
My son was born in early October — the beginning of sick season. It’s safe to say that my biggest anxiety bringing a baby into the world this time of year is illness. We strategically kept our daughter out of daycare for 8 weeks to limit her exposure to sickness. Lo and behold, wouldn’t you know it, I was the one who would bring home the germs first. I tested positive for strep throat on Sunday and have absolutely no idea where I picked it up, as I’ve mostly been staying home with our newborn. We’re certainly not in the clear yet, and I am monitoring symptoms in both of my kids like it’s my job, cause, well, it is. There’s a crack in my false sense of control, and it’s threatening to steal my peace and exposing where my hope might be placed. I know all of the things. Exposure to germs isn’t bad, it helps build immunity. Breastfeeding is a great defense against illness. All of this is true, and still, I don’t want my newborn to get sick because it’s scary and it sucks. That’s it.
There’s a tension I feel deep in my mama heart this week reflecting on hope. We’re living in the in-between, right? We know that Christ’s death and resurrection were sufficient in making a way for us to be in right relationship with God — but we are still waiting for what’s to come, when God makes right our sick world. My mama heart wants to remove all possibility of suffering for my kids. Don’t get me wrong, I still try and sometimes I’m even temporarily successful at it. This week though, I’m having to wrestle with the fact that my babies were born into a world where strep throat exists — and so was Jesus. Our hope is not circumstantial; our hope is in God’s character alone. Mary had to rely on the past faithfulness of God to not pee her tunic when the angel broke the news of her pregnancy (peeing her tunic would come later). If she hadn’t developed a habit of hope already, I would imagine being pregnant with the Son of God would be fertile ground to start… So many pregnancy jokes, I’m sorry.
In Paul’s letter to the Romans he addresses this tension in chapter 8:18–25 when he says,
18 Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later. 19 For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who his children really are. 20 Against its will, all creation was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, 21 the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. 22 For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. 23 And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We, too, wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children, including the new bodies he has promised us. 24 We were given this hope when we were saved. (If we already have something, we don’t need to hope for it. 25 But if we look forward to something we don’t yet have, we must wait patiently and confidently.)
I chose to use the New Living Translation because I liked their word choice in verse 21. We have hope to one day be free from death and decay, and in my interpretation, strep throat. All of creation is living in this tension, waiting and hoping for our future glory, and Paul encourages us to do so patiently and confidently. Easier said than done, Paul. Mary only had to wait 9 months to see the arrival of Jesus, but something tells me she had to figure out a way to become confident very quickly. She had some tough conversations ahead of her.
Mary gives us the perfect example of what it looks like to make hope a habit. The book of Luke pulls back the curtain on Mary’s response to Elizabeth who had just confirmed that what the angel had told Mary was indeed true. Mary sings a song of praise filled with examples of God’s faithfulness throughout Israel’s history. Her response to this great responsibility was not fear, worry, or control — although I’m sure these were all temptations, she was human after all. No, her response was to focus on the past character of God and to praise him for the blessing and high honor of being chosen to mother Jesus.
I am encouraged that living in tension is a shared experience throughout the history of God’s people. This hope that we have doesn’t mean we are in denial about the very real pain, difficulty, and suffering that we’ll experience in this broken world, but it does give us something to cling to when nothing else in the world seems good — Hope tells us, God is.
Be encouraged, friends ❤
His Redeeming Pursuit 
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