Jesu Juva
St. Luke 1:39-55
December 4, 2024
Midweek
Advent 1
Dear saints of our Savior~
An aria is a unique moment in a major musical work. There’s nothing better than a good aria. With an aria, the action slows to a stop so that the situation may be savored and pondered more deeply. Mary’s Song—Mary’s Magnificat—is the Aria of Advent. On these Advent Wednesdays let’s slow down and savor Mary’s song. Let’s pause and ponder a profound mystery.
My soul magnifies the Lord. That’s a great first line. In my very limited hymn-writing experience, the first line is of supreme importance. Mary sings: My soul magnifies the Lord. My life aims to enlarge and amplify the Lord. Don’t look at me; look at Him. He is mighty and merciful and holy. He puts down the proud and exalts the humble. He fills the hungry and empties the rich. He keeps His promises. My soul magnifies the Lord.
Mary magnifies the Lord; but not herself. She teaches us that the life of faith is not a “selfie.” The lens of faith is never focused on the self. Let all self-serving songs be silenced. Self-esteem and self-actualization have no place in the heavenly hierarchy.
But oh how we love those selfies! The drive to place ourselves squarely on center stage is insatiable. And stoking that selfish drive is an ever-present paparazzi whose lenses are pointed squarely at you. Let me introduce this “trio of terribles” who are so hyper-focused on you.
First, there’s the world. The world says: Hey, look at you! You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re strong. You’re pretty. You’re handsomely fabulous. You’re a winner! Just look at you!
Then there’s the devil. The devil says: Look at you! You’re pious. You’re religious. You’re Lutheran. You go to church on cold dark nights in December, for God’s sake! You sing old hymns. You support all the right candidates and causes. You should be proud; and God should be pleased. Just look at you!
And then there’s your Old Adam who says: Look at me! I thank God I’m not like everyone else . . . especially those people. (You know who they are.) Let me snap a selfie so that more people can admire me and follow my example.
That trio of terribles—the world, the devil, and your Old Adam—together they carefully curate a cult of self-love and self-righteousness. Each uses a unique lens to capture the desired effect.
But God gets His desired effect not with a lens, but with the magnifying mirror of the Law. And God’s magnifying mirror pulls no punches. It shows just how you keep the commandments . . . i.e. when it’s convenient, when others are looking, when selfies are snapping. But God’s mirror mostly shows an idolater, a blasphemer, a depiser of God’s Word, a rebel, murderer, adulterer—a lying, thieving, greedy sinner . . . who’s got one foot already in the grave. That’s not a good look—unworthy of Instagram for sure.
If anyone had solid reasons for a selfie it was Mary. Why, her cousin Elizabeth even calls her the “Mother of my Lord” and blesses her. The church acclaims her as the bearer of the Eternal Word—the mother of God—a teenager pregnant in her virginity. God chose her out of all the potential mothers in Israel. He chose her—a nobody from up north Nazareth. That should call for a selfie, shouldn’t it?
But Mary magnifies the Lord. She sings of Him: My soul magnifies the Lord. My spirit rejoices in God my Savior. He must increase; I must decrease.
The life of faith is not a selfie. It’s not look at me, look at me, look at me. It’s look at Him, look at Him, look at Him. Fix your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of your faith. He’s the Alpha and the Omega of your life and salvation. Behold! Look! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Gaze at your God—who created you, who redeemed you by His blood, and makes your body to be His holy temple. Magnify the Lord.
Mary magnifies the Lord by faith. Her faith is the magnifying lens. She was faith-filled from the start. Before she ever conceived, she believed. Before the Word became flesh in her virgin womb, the Word worked faith in her heart. Mary found favor with God not because she was purer or more pious than others, but because she believed. Against all odds and logic and common sense, she believed. I am the Lord’s servant. Let it be to me according to your word. Full of faith, full of grace, Mary magnified the Lord.
Mary magnified the Lord as she believed the message of the angel Gabriel—that she should conceive and bear a son. She pondered what those shepherds preached on the night her Son was born. She magnified the Lord much later at Cana, when the wine ran out. “Do whatever He tells you,” she told the servants. Mary’s famous final words in Scripture. A confident, faith-filled refrain for all time: Do whatever my Son tells you. And even when the sword of grief pierced her own soul, as she stood at the foot of the cross—as she wept and watched her Son die to become her Savior—Mary magnified the Lord.
Beloved in the Lord, let’s magnify the Lord with Mary. The Almighty has done great things for her . . . and for you too. You are baptized, forgiven, and loved by the Lord. Mary’s song is the church’s song. And as we sing it together, it becomes our song too—for each of us within our own callings from God. Mary alone had a unique calling to be the mother of our Lord. And you? You have what is uniquely yours to do, wherever God has placed you, and however God has uniquely gifted you, in whatever unique ways you serve Him.
Him. It’s all about Him. Our lives and lenses are focused outward, not inward—in faith toward Him and in fervent love toward one another. The life of faith in Jesus has no room for selfies. Let’s magnify the Lord with Mary.
Glory be to the Father. Glory be to the Son. Glory be to the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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