Surrender

Luke 1:39-56

It was dark and cold and the kind of morning where you want to throw the covers over your head and pretend that you didn’t hear the alarm.  The wood floor was chilly to the bottom of her feet as she found her way to the room where her daughter was still sleeping.  Just a few minutes until she would wake her with a kiss and walk her to the bathroom to begin the routine that they had crafted together.  Soon, the morning news would tell them the weather and the microwave would beep and the coffee pot light would alert her that her morning boost was ready.  This was not the life she imagined, not the plan she dreamed up as a child playing the princess, not the way she pictured her future not so long ago.

She took a glance at her tablet filled with lists.  Her daughter’s list for Santa, her grocery list, her things to finish at work list and another list, a list of hopes.  She wasn’t the kind of person who believed in miracles, but she would welcome a few to pay her bills.  One night after closing her door and crying into her pillow, she decided to write a few things down- some hopes for how her life could be different.  She didn’t know what to do with it, but it made her feel better somehow, just knowing that her words, her hopes were out of her head and in a list.  She was waiting.  She was waiting but she didn’t know what she was waiting for.

In another part of town, he sat around a crowded kitchen table.  The kids called to one another, demanding that the potatoes be passed and the butter be shared, while the TV rattled on in the background.  He was exhausted after a ten hour day at the office.  His secretary was frustrated with him and his clients never seemed to be satisfied.  He assured them that things would soon turn around, that he was doing his best, but it never seemed to be enough.  This was not the life he imagined, not the plan he dreamed up as a child playing in the fields, not the way he pictured his future not so long ago. 

He loved his family.  He was grateful for all that he had, especially given how many people at work had been laid off, but he wasn’t happy.  He worried about how he could possibly help his kids pay for college, how he would ever be able to retire and whether the knots in his shoulders would ever manage to unwind.  He was waiting.  He was waiting but he didn’t know what he was waiting for.

Just across the way in another village there was a woman who felt alone and panicked.  She had no idea what to do or where to go or how to get to the place where she could breathe easily without her heart racing out of her chest.  Her relationship with her boyfriend was a bit rocky and it seemed that her plans were unraveling before her eyes.  She had intended to move out of her parents house as soon as she could get some money saved or as soon as she found the right time or as soon as she and her man could set a date.  This was not the life she imagined, not the plan she dreamed up as a child singing with her mom by the riverside, not the way she pictured her future not so long ago. 

She found her way to the home of her cousin, whom she knew would not judge her or make her feel worse than she did already.  She was pregnant, but without a ring and a date, a fact that would be sure to alienate her family, except her cousin.  Her cousin was the one person who she knew would love her through anything.  As she walked with intention to the only place she knew she could go, she was waiting.  She was waiting but she didn’t know what she was waiting for.

We are all waiting, waiting for this or that to happen or for a relationship to be different, for a note to arrive, for a day to come, for a sign that new life is coming, for time off from work, for work to begin- waiting for life, at least to be what we want it to be, and often we are waiting, but not exactly sure what we are waiting for.  Life is filled with moments that are aimed at waiting.  We are waiting for God to speak, for something to be changed, for life to fit more neatly into the plans we imagined.

But most of the waiting we do is the impatient, pacing, looking at your watch, kind of waiting.  It is the hurry-up-God-I-am-tired-of-waiting-kind of waiting.  But what if waiting is something else to God.  In the words of Maggie Ross, “We forget sacred time in our preoccupation with linear time.”  What if God is waiting for us to stop waiting, or at least waiting the way we do?   What if God is waiting for us to let go of what we think we are waiting for, so that God can dance on in?  What if God is waiting for us to surrender?

Maybe waiting in God’s eyes “is trusting that something will happen to us that is far beyond our own imaginings.  It is giving up control over our future and letting God define our life.  It is living with the conviction that God moulds us according to God’s love and not according to our fear….<It is being> actively present to the moment, expecting new things will happen to us, new things that are far beyond our own imagination or prediction.”

God waits for the woman to give over her lists and let go.  God waits for the man to stop believing that the blessings for his family are dependent upon how hard he works.  And God waited for the unwed pregnant woman who ran to her cousin.  God waited for her to surrender.  God waited for her and as soon as she gives in, as soon as she throws up her arms and says, “I get it, this isn’t about me, this is about something much bigger,” as soon as Mary surrenders, something happens deep within her.

Maybe it is because her pregnant cousin Elizabeth sees it first because she doesn’t tell Mary that she is foolish.  She doesn’t tell her what to do or how to move forward, instead she sings out to Mary, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”  Perhaps in that moment, Mary gives in.  She lets go of her plans and surrenders to the One who has bigger plans, plans much fuller and wider and deeper than any human plans.  And Mary sings out, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

This was not the life she imagined, not the plan she dreamed up as a child singing with her mom by the riverside, not the way she pictured her future not so long ago.  But as soon as she lets go, as soon as she gives in, as soon as she surrenders, as soon as she is able to give up control over her future and let God define her life, she sees what was there all along.  Mary is the first to hear the news, the first to accept it and the first to proclaim it as Good News for all of us. 

Perhaps as the Christ child is born in us again, we are invited to turn our waiting into surrender.  We are invited to turn our waiting into awaiting, awaiting God to unravel the illusion that we are in control and to remind us of the Good News of Christmas:  Immanuel, God-with-us, God is with us, Christ’s life is with us, which means that everything is not up to us.  Christmas reminds us that even when our life is not the life we imagined, not the plan we dreamed up as a child, not the way we pictured our future not so long ago, we can still say, thanks be to God for that.  Amen.

Henri J.M. Nouwen Eternal Seasons edited by Michael Ford. (Darton, Longman and Todd, London, UK:  2003) 29.