With Fear and Trembling

In the sixth month of Elizabeth's pregnancy,

God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a village in Galilee,

to a virgin named Mary.

She was engaged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendent of King David.

Gabriel appeared to her and said, 'Greetings, favoured woman!

The Lord is with you!'

Confused and disturbed, Mary tried to think what the angel could mean.

'Don't be afraid, Mary,' the angel told her, 

'for you have found favour with God! You will conceive and give birth to a son,

and you will name him Jesus.

He will be very great and will be called the Son of the Most High.

The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David.

And he will reign over Israel forever; his kingdom will never end!'

Luke 1:26-33

My home phone rang, too late at night for it to be a casual social call or a telemarketer. It was one of those phone calls that seems to make your heart stop, even if only momentarily. An already difficult situation had become urgent. Would I come right away?

It's odd, looking back, the particular details that stand out in my memory all this time later. I remember how my hands shook as I hung up the phone. I remember getting into the car and trying to drive, teeth chattering not so much from the cold air but from the adrenaline suddenly surging through my body. I remember trying to take deep breaths, one after another, to calm myself while praying for the adrenaline to subside enough so that I could drive safely to where I needed to be.

I remember getting there, trying not to let anyone see how much I was shaking and shivering, hoping that what I couldn't hide would be quickly dismissed as due to the cold weather.

I remember the person who gave me a hug, and pressed a mug of hot tea into my hands. Even in the moment, the grace being offered touched something deep within me.

I remember having no idea what to do, but doing it anyway.

*     *     *     *     *

"Don't be afraid, Mary," the angel told her.

Those words catch my attention, won't let go.

Mary, did your hands shake, your knees tremble, your teeth chatter when that angel appeared to you and turned your everyday life upside-down?

Do we sanitize how very confusing and disturbing it must have been for you to have an angel appear suddenly in the middle of mundane village life, in the middle of growing up and dreaming of marriage and wondering what the future might hold, in the middle of helping with chores and preparing meals and laughing with your friends?

Do the angel's words, "Don't be afraid," point us to the fact that to have an angel appear, to find out that you are to give birth to the Messiah, to learn that this is all to occur while you're still an unwed virgin must have been earth-shaking news?

Was there a tremble in your voice when you spoke the words, "I am the Lord's servant. May everything you have said about me come true"?

Mary, were you scared? 

*     *     *     *     *

I have wondered where God was that day, when I found myself thrust into a situation that felt so far outside of my comfort zone that it might as well have been happening to someone else, somewhere else. 

But then I remembered Mary, remembered the angel's words to her, "Don't be afraid."

I've always pictured Mary as serene, peace-filled, and trustingly obedient. 

But today, I find myself wondering if her hands were shaking too.

And I find myself wondering if, just maybe, showing up in spite of the shaking hands and trembling knees and chattering teeth is the point.

Maybe faith isn't always serene and peace-filled, confident and full of optimism. Maybe sometimes it trembles at the fearfulness of it all.

After all, if God can show up to a young woman in a small village like Nazareth, if God can be born in a stable and have his first cradle be a feeding trough, then maybe it's still true that God most often shows up in the least likely of places.

Like in young women who tremble with fear even as they reaffirm, "I am the Lord's servant."

May it be so.