Group Hug Luke 1:54-58

“He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever, just as he promised our ancestors.” Mary stayed with Elizabeth for about three months and then returned home. When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy and they shared in her joy.” (Luke 1:54-58) NIV

Random Thoughts:

Israel was many things throughout their long relationship with God but faithful and obedient were usually not among them. I have often heard that God chose the people of Israel to carry His message of hope to the world because if He could work through them and still love them and forgive them, he could love and forgive just about anyone. Including us.

Israel, God’s “problem child”, is such a great reminder that we, who are anything but perfect, can still count on His love to redeem us despite our histories, our choices, our “issues”. And the great part is, when He follows through, scooping us up and dusting us off, showing us mercies we do not deserve and sharing gifts with us we never dreamed we’d have, we get the opportunity to share that great news with others. 

Elizabeth and Zecharias can’t help but celebrate that a child born to them in their old age was also, at last, the fulfillment of God’s promise to rescue humanity. It had finally come. God’s promises could be trusted and they celebrated with neighbors and friends. God’s work in their lives was not a “private” part of their lives--something to be hushed out of polite regard--it was shouted from the rooftops. Shared joy. A group hug. And shared knowledge that God keeps His promises.

Question:

What mercy of God are you celebrating today? With whom can you share your joy? 

Journal Response:

I just had coffee this morning with a friend--a sister--I haven’t seen in months. Our relationship began five years ago because I couldn’t answer the question above. After ten years in a large and growing church in which I had volunteered as a teacher, sung in their praise band, attended their studies, gone to their gatherings, faithfully attended their worship services, I was unable to think of a single soul with whom I could share my own. And it bothered me. 

A lot.

I began to pray and ask God to give me the relationships I so desperately craved but did not know how to cultivate in my fragmented, artificial suburban world in which biological family lived half a continent away and spiritual family seemed just as far. And then it happened. God lead me to a group of five women who met each week in a home to simply pray for each other. We didn’t do a “study” together, we weren’t doing anything “practical” and we weren’t spending our two hours sipping coffee and talking about the condition of our lawns (although my lawn probably would have benefited from that kind of discussion). We just prayed for each other and slowly but surely, our isolation transformed into a sisterhood. A place where we could celebrate what God was doing in our lives or know that we could be prayed for when life was throwing us the curve balls that life just does. 

When Elizabeth and Zecharias celebrated their son’s birth, it was with a community of friends (neighbors) and family. We are communal creatures, born to share our lives in ways that our modern lives make so hard to do. I am thankful today, however, for that oasis of family, of sisters, God has given me. 

Today my sister and I chatted over coffee and celebrated how God is stretching us in new ways, exciting us with new knowledge about Him and about ourselves. How He is working in our kids, our husbands and answering our never-ending questions. (“So do you believe in actual demons?” and “How are we supposed to pray in light of the whole demon-angel thing?” and “So why is there an electrical outlet built into your fireplace?”). Of course we achieved all this while my large golden doodle was simultaneously insisting on her piece of the attention pie. And the blueberry muffin sitting unattended on the coffee table.

So today I am thankful that I am not in the place I was five years ago. I have sisters. I have friends and I have “family” with whom I can celebrate that I am no longer living a life of suburban solitary confinement. Group hug!