You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to GOD, “My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.” —Psalm 91:1-2
The most challenging part of pregnancy is the watching and waiting to see what happens without being able to do a thing about it. Once pregnancy gets started, a new life begins, and the mother is part of a creative process that is way beyond her control. She cannot regulate this astonishing growth. She gets bigger and bigger and bigger. The baby kicks harder and harder and harder. The pregnant woman needs to trust that things will turn out all right, or that she will have the strength, with God’s help, to manage if they do not. It is a potently frightening and spiritually challenging time. A mother-to-be learns quickly what trust in God is all about.
When I was two weeks away from giving birth to my first child, I spent a great deal of time wondering how I would know if labor had definitively started, how I would get to the hospital, and what kind of anesthesia I might or might not need. I also spent time reading the birth narratives in the Gospels, and the word of God hit me directly in my very pregnant abdomen. My concerns seemed rather trivial and self-indulgent when compared to Mary’s wearying ninety-mile journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem on foot and on donkey. But it was not the physical stamina of Mary that caused me to marvel most; it was her spiritual stamina, her absolute trusting faith in God in the face of bewildering circumstances.
It is hard enough for any mother worrying about delivery complications or possible birth defects, without having some angel drop in and tell you that you have been chosen to bear the Son of God. I am awestruck by Mary’s trust. That winter of my first pregnancy, I realized that even a so-called normal, non-divine pregnancy demands a great deal of trust, let alone a pregnancy in the astonishing circumstances in which Mary found herself. Here she was, a teenager, scared, confused, socially ostracized, who nevertheless managed to say, “Let it be with me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).
“Let it be with me according to your word.” Mary trusted God enough to make herself available to God in this extraordinary way.
In her poem “Annunciation,” Denise Levertov writes of Mary:
She did not cry, “I cannot, I am not worthy,” nor, “I have not the strength.” She did not submit with gritted teeth, raging, coerced. Bravest of all humans, consent illumined her. The room filled with its light, the lily glowed in it, and the iridescent wings. Consent, courage unparalleled, opened her utterly.’
Waiting opens us to vulnerability and fear, but also to strength and courage. Waiting always gives us an opportunity to trust that God is at work in our particular situation.
It has been said that “Pregnancy is a receiving partnership in grace.” (Elizabeth A. Hamrick-Stowe, Expecting) We are all—men and women—called upon to be “pregnant” at times, to enter a period of waiting for growth and new life. Like Mary, we, too, are called by God to say, “Let it be with me according to your word.” Our waiting holds the potential for new life—and the invitation to trust God.
Have you ever felt afraid to act? Or afraid that the choice you made might be wrong? Afraid that the new life you’ve begun—by moving to a new community, or adopting a child, or going back to school, or taking a new job, or retiring—will not work out as you had hoped?
Sometimes in my work in spiritual direction, when a person is doubting God’s involvement in circumstances, I will ask them to go home and find a container (a Mason jar or a bowl or a box) to represent God’s In Box. (Inspired by Anne Lamont, Travelling Mercies) I ask them to write down their concerns and drop them in. God’s In Box becomes a visual representation of God’s care and keeping. They can look at the container and be reminded that they are not alone, that God “will neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 121:4b), and that God is holding their concern. This ritual is a reminder that God has been at work and will be at work in their lives, that God takes their worries seriously.
The next time you are waiting, picture placing your fears in the box. Let the waiting lead you to trust, and let your trust in God lead you beyond your fears.
Excerpted from Seven Spiritual Gifts of Waiting by Holly W. Whitcomb © 2005. Published by Augsburg Books (www.AugsburgBooks.com).
“Annunciation”by Denise Levertov from A Door in the Hive © 1989 by Denise Levertov reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp (www.ndpublishing. com).
Holly Wilson Whitcomb is a United Church of Christ minister and the Director of Kettlewood Retreats. Holly is a retreat leader and spiritual director who travels to churches, retreat houses, and conference centers across the country. She lives in a suburb of Milwaukee, Wisconsin with her husband John, and their two children, David and Kate.
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