Several days ago, I sat in a room of strangers. The only exceptions were two friends at my left and a few musicians I'd met previously. The room was large, but not overwhelming. It was a smaller chapel connected to one of the largest churches in the country, so its humble size contributed to the warmth of the evening. There were candles at the center of the room and four sections of seating around it. One of my favorite bands, The Brilliance, was there, off to the side.
We'd come to South Barrington to see The Brilliance, anticipating one of their incredible advent concerts. We came early for a liturgical worship time led by members of the church and the band. I've loved this music for a while now, but this evening held something unique and beautiful. As we sang and listened, prayed and communed together, I nestled in to the a powerful time of worship. I was full. The Holy Spirit was evident in this place. He was in the community of people singing and responding. He was in the words of liturgy read aloud and claimed inwardly. He was in the music. The night was overwhelming. My eyes were constantly full of tears and there were moments I had to literally put my hand over my heart because it felt so full. It may seem emotional and dramatic, and it was that, if I'm honest. But it was good; I was drawn to Jesus in a fresh, renewing way.
During this time, we practiced lectio divina, a contemplative reading or praying of scripture that is intended to draw one closer into union with the Father. A speaker read through Luke 1: 46-55 (The Magnificat) three times, each time leaving room for contemplation and silence. As the words were read, I felt drawn to the beauty and Truth of God's Word. This in itself was renewing - I'd been struggling to feel a desire to read the Bible for months. But God's Word went beyond that. He encouraged me and spoke clearly through this prayer of Mary.
I want to pause for one second, though. As I reread some of this, I realize it may seem that I am placing the sole significance on the experience of that evening. The candles, the music, the trendy liturgical setting. As much as I enjoyed this avenue of worship, I must say that it was only a tool. It was simply a means for God to be glorified and praised. So as lovely and aesthetic as the evening was, it would have been empty without God's perfect presence.
So keeping that in mind, I'm drawn back to the truth God has affirmed in me since that evening. Listening to Mary's prayer, you can't help but be drawn into the raw emotion of her experience. She is with Elizabeth, understanding fully the truth of God's promises. Her response is to praise God for his faithfulness and his love for her. In this exclamation of praise, I'm drawn to two lines:
"...for he has been mindful of the humble estate of his servant." (v. 48)
"He has filled the hungry with good things..." (v. 53)
It seems so perfect that God chose one who was humble and hungry to carry out his great plan for his people. Humility brings recognition of who we are not. We are not God, and we are in great need of him. Hunger brings that desire for him and the need for fulfillment. We cannot be filled unless we are aware of our emptiness without Jesus. And to think of the beautiful poetry of these words - Mary was literally filled with good things. She was a humble, trusting servant of God and he filled her womb with the goodness of his Son.
I keep thinking of one of my favorite lines in "Joy to the World" - let every heart prepare him room. To make room for the one who fills us with good things, we must see what is taking up space. That's where humility starts. We look accurately at ourselves and hold out our hands in need of God's grace.
As Christmas approaches, I want to be in a place of humility and hunger. I want to seek him first, not myself, not my own desires. And I want to be filled by him. I want the good he promises to those who trust him. I want to look at people like Mary and Elizabeth, and at Jesus, himself, as models for a life of humble, hungry living. They believed that God would fulfill his promises to each of them. And that's exactly what happened.