A Protestant Lady Looks at Mary, the Mother of Jesus

Protestants, I believe, in pushing back against a fear of Mary-worship, neglect and overlook the mother of Jesus, avoiding careful study and admiration of a woman chosen and honored by God to receive, carry, and raise the Savior of the world.

In 1986, I could not avoid thinking about Mary, a mother who watched her son suffer. That was the year my son Reid was born—seventeen weeks premature, weighing only 1 lb. 10 oz. Reid struggled in the incubator at Children’s National Medical Center for six months and experienced two bouts of spinal meningitis, kidney failure, retinal detachment, seizures, and a severe brain-bleed that left him a quadriplegic with a profound intellectual disability. That was his first hospital stay. Reid lived for twenty-two years, and in the end, succumbed to pneumonia. During those first six months, hour after hour, day after day, I watched my son suffer—and at the time it seemed like I was alone in my suffering as a mother, until it occurred to me: Mary watched her son suffer too.

Reid was born in October, so by Christmastime he had been struggling and wavering between life and death for two months. We tried to shelter our older daughter, Erin, who was only eighteen months old, from the sorrows of the hospital. We decorated the house for Christmas, we made spice cookies, and we played carols on our record player. One day I listened, really listened, to the “Coventry Carol,” that haunting lullaby about the slaughter of the innocents. That was always a part of the Christmas story that was uncomfortable, not sentimental, warm, or fuzzy. On that first Christmas, many mothers had their baby boys ripped from their arms by soldiers who killed them before their eyes. I thought of the nursery at Children’s, with its room filled with incubators of tiny, suffering infants. It seemed like every day when we’d come down to visit Reid, there would be another empty bed, as every day another preemie died. Would Reid be next?

While I was thinking about Herod, the innocents, and empty incubators, Reid was having seizures and was usually writhing in pain. I felt isolated from friends and family—and “normal” life. Then I thought of Mary. She watched her son suffer on a criminal’s cross for three agonizing hours, but even at the beginning of her journey as a mother, when Jesus was only eight days old, the mother of our Lord was told by Simeon at his presentation at the temple:

“Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed” (Luke 2:34–35).

What went through Mary’s mind when, as a young mother, she heard these troubling words? What exactly did it mean to have a sword pierce through her own soul? Philip Ryken writes of Jesus, “His words to her from the cross must have been the soul-piercing sword she had dreaded for so long” (The Heart of the Cross, 28).

And so, as I watched my own son writhing and gasping in a sterile incubator, I meditated on Mary, the peerless mother of mothers, and I no longer felt alone.

The fruit of my meditation is six observations about the character of Mary. By closely looking at Luke 1:26–2:19 we can infer that Mary had a fine mind and that she used it well. Mary was discerning, a woman of faith, humble, brave, prepared, and a woman of deep thought.

1. Mary was discerning. When the angel Gabriel came to Mary to announce that she was chosen by God to bear his son, the Savior of the world, she thought hard about what was happening. Luke recorded, “But she was greatly troubled at the saying [of the angel] and tried to discern what sort of greeting this must be” (Luke 1:26). Audibly hearing the voice of an angel, or God himself, for that matter, is a rare occurrence. Moses and Abraham’s experience, and that of a few prophets who followed, was uncommon. So, when the angel visited Mary, she was troubled. She did not run in fear or gullibly accept, but she tried to discern what was happening—and interacted with the angel. She asked questions. “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”

2. Mary believed. “And Mary said, ‘Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be according to you word’” (Luke 1:38). Again, she was not gullible, but she had the faith to believe the angel and accept God’s will for her.

3. Mary was humble. She did not take the fact of God’s choosing her as a sign that she was a superior human. She did not let it go to her head. Mary did not at any time become puffed up and proud. No, she described herself as a servant of the Lord.

4. Mary was brave. Although betrothed, she wasn’t married, and so when she considered the consequences of being pregnant—of accepting her task—she must have been afraid. What would her parents do? What would Joseph do? According to Jewish law, she could have been stoned to death. But instead of giving in to fear, Mary put her faith in God and embraced his perfect will.

5. Mary was prepared. Mary wasn’t caught off guard when she gave birth to Jesus in Bethlehem. She came prepared! Luke tells us that “she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger” (Luke 2:12). Surely the stable and manger were not what Mary and Joseph were expecting, but the newly born Jesus was not wrapped in a dirty horse blanket. He was wrapped in swaddling cloths. Baby clothes. Mary came to Bethlehem prepared.

6. Mary pondered. Mary was a woman with a fine mind—and according to Luke’s account of the Christmas story, we can see that she used it. An angel came to her and told her that she was God’s choice to carry, bear, and raise the long-awaited Messiah—the Savior of the world. At Jesus’s birth, shepherds came and worshiped him—and told his parents about angels who sang the baby into the world. Sometime later the Magi came. Mary, too, must have seen the star. The Magi worshiped the baby and gave him expensive gifts. Overwhelming, heady stuff. But Luke tells us, “Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart” (Luke 2:19). She pondered. She gave the past year’s-worth of experience great thought. No boasting. No telling everyone she knew how special she was. Just deep, thoughtful humility.

When did Mary see her need for a savior? Was it when Gabriel appeared to her and she felt the fear of being in the presence of a messenger from God? Was it when she told her parents that she was pregnant? When she told Joseph? Or perhaps was it in the Temple days after Jesus was born and the young family encountered Simeon? Simeon blessed and confirmed that Jesus was the Christ, the Savior of both Jews and the Gentiles. That must have been a proud moment. But immediately Simeon continued, prophesying that many would fall, meaning receive judgment for arrogance, and many would rise, meaning receive salvation.

And Simeon added that a sword would pierce through her own heart. Holding her newborn baby and being told that Jesus would be not only the kingly, triumphant Messiah, but also the suffering servant of scriptural prophecies, she must have realized then that she, too, would need God almighty to see her through. These words ultimately took her to the cross, where her beloved son was unjustly accused, mocked, and violently killed. She was there, with him to the end (those must have been three long days before the joy of the resurrection). A mother and her son. A needy woman and her Savior.

Mary was a humble young woman who used her mind. She considered, she pondered, she prepared, she believed. She was a woman with complete faith in God. Jesus said that the greatest commandment is to love God with our heart, soul, mind, and strength. Mary modeled this love in the Christmas story. Protestants would do well to give Mary fresh consideration—and not be afraid to let our esteem and affection for her increase.