Can you join with Mary and sing, “my soul magnifies the Lord”? If you cannot magnify God, it probably is because you are magnifying yourself. When you sink in your own estimation, then God will rise in your esteem. This is a calling for all people who know the Lord as Mary did.

Luke 1:26-56

I recently preached a sermon from Luke’s record of the Annunciation. That passage allows us to follow Mary’s progression of faith. She begins perplexed, moves to pondering (an accounting term that measures), and finally to praising.

Mary has had a major role in religious art and theory; of course, she is fairly prominent in this opening chapter of Luke, too. What do we make of that? She is declared by the Roman Catholic Church to have been “conceived without sin.” She is held up to Roman Catholics as an object of veneration and prayed to as a mediator between God and man, only slightly less powerful than Christ Himself.

Should we—like Medieval Catholics—elevate her to a plane above all other women? Or should we see her in some other light? Some folks believe that Mary provides a “kinder and gentler” side of God that comforts believers. However, that reflects a serious misunderstanding of who God is. For he himself is abundantly kind and doesn’t lack for a gentle side. He is compassionate and gracious and slow to anger—just not approving of all behaviors. As Zechariah praised in this very chapter, God is known for his forgiveness and “tender mercy” even prior to the birth of Jesus. It is only a mis-shapened, twisted God that needs Mary as an assistant to bring comfort.

Whereas Mary was imperfect and in fact a sinner like us, still, since she is prominent in this opening chapter, we should see what God wants us to learn from her. God was patient with her as she grew in grace. She moves from a quite understandable “How can this be?” to “I am the Lord’s servant.”

Mary had faith, and yet, at the same time she must have been awe-stricken by the revelation. That she should give birth to the Son of the Highest must have utterly abashed and overwhelmed her. Now both these states of mind are here—faith and awe. Faith says, “I know that the angel’s message is true, and therefore my soul doth magnify the Lord.” Awe says, “What a solemn thing it is that God should come to dwell in me! My soul doth magnify the Lord.” Thus in these words confidence and reverence have met together, assurance and adoration have kissed each other. Here is faith with its familiarity, and devotion with its godly fear.

Mary sang reverently, with devotion and true spirituality, intelligently, enthusiastically, evangelically, and with full assurance. You need not speak, but simply ponder, weigh, consider, contemplate, meditate, ruminate upon the attributes of the Most High. Begin with his mercy if you cannot begin with his holiness; but take the attributes one by one, and think about them. I don’t know any attribute of God that is not wonderfully quickening and powerful to a person who wishes to know God. As you think of any one of them, it will ravish you and carry you away. You will be lost in wonder, love, and praise as you consider it; you will be astonished and amazed as you plunge into its wondrous depths, and everything else will vanish from your vision. That is one way of making God great—by often thinking about him.

This experience, rather than puffing up Mary’s self-esteem, makes her humble. She knows her position. She knows she is undeserving. She realizes that she is called to be a “servant.” So was her son. That’s why we say we are all called to servanthood.

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