All Other Ground

My hope is built on nothing less than

My hope is built on nothing

My hope is built

 

Fragile as a snowflake melting in my hands

my faith against the blizzard

the onslaught of the Righteous

whose righteousness swirls in angry wind

pushing

pushing out

 

I stand

I stand on this rock

the angry wind causes me to stumble

How solid is this rock

if I can still fall?

 

My hope is built on nothing less than

My hope is built on nothing

My hope is built on

My hope.

 

Mary Walks

On each of the four Sundays before Christmas, the advent season, Widdershire will be posting four reflections from the point of view of Mary, the Mother of Jesus.

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click image for source

Mary walks. One foot in front of another, steady and slow.

The pace of her feet and the pace of a donkey are the only speeds she has ever traveled; she has seen horses thunder past, but she has never ridden at the pace of the wind.

Walking slows her racing thoughts and calms the blood pounding in her ears. Too many thoughts of things past and things to come seem to untether her from the present and cause her to drift through time, unable to hold onto the current moment. The steady pace of her feet brings her back to where she is, living in ordinary time, unraveling her days without Joseph, without Jesus, and without her angel.

It feels going to be doing something, to be moving.

The path begins to incline, and Mary walks uphill, towards the tree at the top. This hill and this tree are special for her; she makes the hike to the top at dawn every year close to Jesus’ birthday. It feels as though the movement upwards through space also moves her into a different time. Certainly the time she spends up here has that magical fast-yet-slow quality that she associates with God’s time.

Many times she needs to stop and rest, and she wonders for how many more years she can continue her tradition. But each time she stops, she notices something new. This time, she watches the town below her stir and awaken. Next time, it’s a pair of birds dancing in the wind. Then it is simply the pattern of the pebbles at her feet, and how the blades of grass grow around them.

It has taken her longer than usual, but she is not too late. She pauses to catch her breath, then settles into her usual place. She looks up, and sees the sight she has come for. Every year at this time, from this spot, she can see her Jesus’s star, shining on the horizon. Waiting, longing, remembering, and walking all come together in this place. She is Mary, the mother of Jesus, and she knows God’s time.

Originally published on tallisfabulous.com

Mary Remembers

On each of the four Sundays before Christmas, the advent season, Widdershire will be posting four reflections from the point of view of Mary, the Mother of Jesus.

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click image for source

Mary remembers.

She remembers the angel, the radiance, the spirit of the Lord coming upon her. She remembers the shining moment when she was given the gift of radiant joy, of the peace of God, of a glimpse from God’s perspective. She remembers knowing that she was a part of the Lord’s work in history, bringing forth a mighty transformation.

She remembers the moment when everything fell away and she was outside of ordinary time and space with the glorious being of light, sent directly from the Lord to give her the message that she was blessed. It was awesome and awe-filled and she had been so afraid, and then the angel said “fear not,” and she found that she could move past fear into peace and acceptance of what the Lord was asking of her. She had seen in an instant that it was no small thing she was agreeing to. She knew that she was being asked, not demanded or coerced.

She remembers the birth, her first birth. The birth that transformed her into a mother. She was again outside of normal time, the seconds stretching into hours but the hours passing in a moment. She remembers, after it was over, feeling an amazing rush of joy and pride in bringing this baby, her baby, the Lord’s baby into the world.

Both of those moments define her. They are the times that she felt the most whole, the most complete. To her, they exist in God’s time.

She looks up to see fingers of dawn tickling the edges of the world. Going back in time through memory has restored her to hope.

Originally published on tallisfabulous.com

Mary Longs

On each of the four Sundays before Christmas, the advent season, Widdershire will be posting four reflections from the point of view of Mary, the Mother of Jesus.

persian mary and jesus

Mary comes in soaked, cold, and exhausted.

She wants things to be made right, because they are so wrong. It feels wrong to be alive, and alone, with no sense of when that will change. She doesn’t understand how she is supposed to keep on living day after day. She doesn’t understand God’s time, how everything can be transformed in an instant and yet continue along in ordinary time.
She has been ruined for ordinary time.

Jesus understood how to marry God’s time and ordinary time, how to work in this world but keep a connection to God’s sacred time. But Jesus is gone, whisked back into that sacred time. He said he would return, but she has been waiting for a long time. She longs for the wait to end.

Stop this, she tells herself. You have been down this path before. It’s the path into despair and bitterness, and just because Mary means bitter does not mean that you must become bitter.

But the longing, longing for Jesus, for the angel, for understanding, for the end of hurt and confusion and doubt and so much tiredness, is overwhelming. More than anything, she wants to see the big picture like she did once before, when she knew that the Lord’s mercy lasts from generation to generation. She longs for that mercy.

The words burst out. Lord, you came into this world and promised to turn it around. You showed me that there is no one too insignificant or overlooked or unimportant to be a part of your plan. You embodied love. You transformed me entirely, body, mind, and spirit, and now I don’t know what to do! I have lost so much and in this long silence, I feel that I have lost you too. Show me that I am wrong, Lord.

Mary pours out the deepest desires of her heart until the rain on her face made salty by her tears has dried, and the storm in her heart has settled once more. She can carry on in ordinary time for now.

Originally published on tallisfabulous.com.

Mary Waits

On each of the four Sundays before Christmas, the advent season, Widdershire will be posting four reflections from the point of view of Mary, the Mother of Jesus.

black-mary
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Mary waits.

Her life has been long, and full, and difficult. To be chosen by God to bear the saviour of the nations is to be shaken, tossed, filled to overflowing and wrung out into nothing, over and over again.

She misses her son, and her husband.

She waits, stuck in ordinary time, each minute moving slowly. She has seen bits and pieces of the story from God’s time – the angel’s visit, her son’s miracles and transformations, the way everything she knew and understood about life and death, God and humans, sin and redemption turned upside down and rewritten.

Mostly, she sees the story in human time, slow and confusing and full of mistakes.

It should be time to sweep everything away and bring in the new kingdom that her son started. It’s been years since he left, and he said he would return soon. His birthday is coming up, and she always feels the pull of his message more strongly at this time of year. Love, he said. Love is the foundation of all things. Is love the foundation of waiting? Where is love in this painful wait, filled with the desire to be made whole?

There are shining, glorious moments when she feels to her core the truth that she is blessed, she was the vehicle through whom the Lord burst into creation and rewrote life, death, and time forever. She is reinvigorated to continue waiting for the fruition of her son’s work across the world. She feels once more the transcendent peace that allowed her to hear herself say “let it be with me according to your word” during the angel’s timeless visit.

There are other moments when the pain of loss and loneliness overwhelm her and she weeps. The waiting is interminable at those times.

Lord, she cries, the days are dark and long. Please, please tell me why I am waiting. Please give me the courage to wait one more day. Please give me the strength to wait for your return.

Mary walks out to share her son’s message of love yet one more time.

Originally published on tallisfabulous.com