Imagine this: You’re driving, baking cookies, wrapping presents—Christmas music playing all around you. You’re not reading theology, but you’re singing it. Every carol is a mini sermon. But here’s the question—Who is Mary in our songs? What would you say? Or better yet—what would you sing?
Here’s the surprise: In 381 English Christmas carols, Mary shows up in only 27 percent. The shepherds and angels beat her. Even the late-arriving wise men almost get as many mentions! And when Mary does appear, it’s usually a quiet cameo—more about her body than her bravery.
Out of the top ten beloved carols—the ones pastors dare not skip—only three even mention her at all. Yet Mary herself once sang, “All generations will call me blessed” (Luke 1:48). But in many churches, she’s not “blessed” but overlooked, more porcelain figurine than courageous disciple.
That’s not the real Mary. The Mary of Scripture is authentic, thoughtful, curious, and brave. More Rosie the Riveter than silent statue. She wrestled with fear, asked hard questions, and still said “yes” to God.
For centuries, the Church called her the model believer—not because she was perfect, but because she shows us how to respond to God. So today, we’re going to walk with the real Mary—through honest anxiety, thoughtful reflection, curious questions, and courageous consent.
Mary experiences honest anxiety. ‘Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.’ But she was greatly troubled by his words . . .
“Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” And Mary was greatly troubled—not because an angel showed up, but because of Gabriel’s words. She knew what it meant to be favored by God. In Scripture, those favored by God—Noah, Gideon, Esther—were called to risk, disruption, and danger. Mary understood that “favored one” was a title offered by God on the other side of terror.
And Mary had every reason to feel afraid. In her world, an unexpected pregnancy wasn’t just awkward—it was dangerous. It could mean public shame, religious trial, and even death. Saying “yes” to God could cost her everything: her reputation, her safety, even her life (Deut. 22:23-24 – note the parallel phrasing with Luke 1:27).
If Mary wished to contest her guilt as a suspected adulteress, she could have experienced the law of bitter waters (Numbers 5). She would have been brought before the priest, required to let her hair hang down and under oath asked to drink a bitter mixture of dust, holy water, and the ink of the priest’s written curse. The curse involved the words: “may the LORD cause you to become a curse among your people when he makes your womb to miscarry and your abdomen swell.”
So she could have said “no” to Gabriel and protected her image. She could have stayed safe, stayed silent, stayed respectable. But she didn’t. She shows us that following God is not fantasy—it’s not neat, clean, or anxiety-free. Real faith is often messy and costly. It brings both great joy and great pain. Mary was the first person to accept Jesus on His own terms—before He was born, before He suffered and carried a cross, she suffered and carried one for Him.
Perhaps the best expression of her bravery is best said by Martin Luther: “How many came in contact with her, talked, and ate and drank with her, who perhaps despised her and counted her but a common, poor, and simple village maiden, and who, had they known, would have fled from her in terror?”
Is it any wonder that in Revelation’s retelling of the Christmas story, Mary is pictured shining like the sun, facing a dragon? Because Mary was not just afraid —she was brave. But Mary did more than that.
She expressed thoughtful reflection— “. . . and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.”
Mary didn’t rush to answer Gabriel; she took time to think. Scripture says she “pondered.” This wasn’t passive meditation—it was active reflection. She probably considered Scripture, the promises of God, and what it might mean for her role in God’s plan. She pondered her role in God’s story as a serious actor. She wasn’t simply a passive vessel but the first apostle – the first messenger of the gospel! No sooner does Gabriel return to God than Mary dashes off to Elizabeth to tell her the good news of Jesus. Mary is one of the first eye-witnesses and story-tellers of what God was up to. Luke reminds us in verse 2:19 that “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Many scholars suggest that she is one of the critical eye-witnesses for Luke’s Gospel (1:1-4). She was the first teacher and the priest that mute Zechariah failed to be. That’s the interesting irony of Luke’s Gospel. He will allow no mansplaining. Men are either marginal to the birth-story or mute. They are not the leaders. Mary was. She wasn’t just a womb but a thoughtful voice, a critical composer of what would become the story we tell of Jesus. She had to rise above the negative stereotypes about women in her context to see herself as a critical thinker and contributor. Mary teaches us that faith is not just emotional—it involves deep thought, imagination, and reflection. The call of God is always worth pondering.
She also held curious questions. ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’
After pondering, Mary asks, “How can this be?” She doesn’t doubt God, but she seeks understanding. Unlike Zechariah, who asks, “How will I know?” Mary asks, “How will this work?” Her question comes from faith, not doubt. Mary as our example reminds us that committed Christians can asks hard questions of God’s word and God’s activity. People practicing faith in the real world can feel free to ask real questions to God and one another like “how?” and “why are things this way?”
She refuses to skirt the obvious problems of biology – but addresses it head on. Her deep faithfulness does not gloss over the real challenges. So the mother of our Lord gives us critical advice if we are going to be faithful responders to God’s word: Question authority. Such questioning is not disloyalty and does not lead to disqualification. An unquestioning faith will rarely give birth to the work of God. Mary’s importance has been modeled and expressed by many women. The 19th century women’s right’s advocate and evangelical Christian Sojourner Truth who was also willing to ask curious questions to question authority. In a famous speech titled, “Ain’t I a Woman” (speaking at a woman’s rally in 1851), Sojourner said, “Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from?,” she asked. “Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.”
Finally, she offered courageous consent. Then Mary said, ‘Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.’
To honor Mary we need to let her define herself. She hears about God’s plan and her critical part in it and then has the courage to call herself “servant” and not “queen.” That, in and of itself, might be the best revelation of why God picked her in the first place. Her specialness wasn’t a title to be proclaimed but a humble sacrifice to make. I’d like to think that Mary would agree with Dorothy Day who once said, “Don’t make me a saint. I don’t want to be dismissed that easily.” Her obedience wasn't blind—it was thoughtful, informed, and brave. She was truly afraid, didn’t know how everything that would unfold, but she trusted the One who called her.
Friends, Mary was the first person to accept Jesus on His terms—regardless of the cost. Christmas is not just about baby Jesus in a manger—it’s about Mary’s response, and our response, to God’s radical invitation. God is still speaking. God is still looking for willing partners, favored ones. And maybe, this Christmas, He is calling you to your own Mary Christmas moment—to say, “Here am I. Let it be with me according to Your word.” So this season, don’t just say “Merry Christmas.” Say “Mary Christmas”—and let it mean an honest, thoughtful, curious, courageous “yes” to God. Amen.
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