Shame can overshadow our stories. It makes it hard to see things clearly and to speak the truth. Shame can make God small.
Maybe we have reached this year’s end, feeling like we have nothing to show for it. Perhaps we are haunted by a sense of being good-for-nothing.
In the Magnificat, we learn from Mary how to see God as He is—magnified and above all. We also learn how to tell our stories without sinking into shame.
Mary was a virgin, due to be married to Joseph when she received the news that she was going to conceive a baby in a way that was never thought possible (Matt. 1:18-19).
And not just any baby.
Within her young body, she would carry the Messiah and be an instrument for his incarnation—something hard to fathom and hard to explain to others.
But Mary rejects the potential shame that may come with being pregnant in this way and at this time.
Greatly Troubled
The Bible says that when she was first greeted by Gabriel, the messenger of this news, she was “greatly troubled.” After hearing that she was going to be a mother, she asked “How will this be. . . since I am a virgin?” (Luke 1:29, 34)
Gabriel explained that the Holy Spirit would come upon her. He also used her cousin Elizabeth’s story to help her believe. Her cousin, who had not been able to conceive for years, was now five months pregnant in her old age, the angel said. He reassured her saying, “No word from God will ever fail” (Luke 1:35-37).
Soon after hearing this, Mary made her way to Elizabeth’s home. It was there that she spoke the words that we now know as Magnificat. It was a profession of faith, a witness of God’s character, a song of praise and thanksgiving. It was also simply a woman telling her story to another.
God is Mindful
“My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant” (Luke 1:46-48).
Despite the pressures that she may have felt she praises God because she sees where she stands in the sight of God. She is his servant and she receives God’s call to mother the Son of God as a humbling gift, even if incredibly weighty. In the Magnificat, Mary makes it about what God has done, rather than what she can or cannot do.
He Has Done Great Things
“From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me—holy is his name” (Luke 1:48-49)
Mary is tracing the Sovereign hand of God on her life. I imagine her preaching this to herself in moments when she may feel nervous about the days ahead—the glare of society, the anxiety of pregnancy, and the complications of her relationship with Joseph. She is a young girl wrapping her mind around giving birth to the Saviour—not only of the world but even her own. It brings her to see his unmatched holiness.
His Mercy is Great
“His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation. He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; He has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever, just as he promised our ancestors” (Luke 1:5-55).
Mary transitions from testifying to what God has done for her, to the broader story about what he has done for us all, across generations. She knows this is more than just her pregnancy. She amplifies the character of God and the mind-bending ways in which he works.
The world may reward those who have money, but God satisfies the hungry. The powerful may try to hold on to their fleeting influence, but God raises up the simple, the ordinary, and the unlikely. Those who feel forgotten, like they fall through the cracks of the systems of this world, he remembers.
The Beginning of the End of Shame
Mary’s words in the Magnificat model to us a radical way of telling our stories.
We may feel like failures. Our circumstances may seem unimpressive, lowly, and humiliating. We tell ourselves that our stories have no reason for praise and thanksgiving.
But even if we feel so crushed we cannot utter the words of the Magnificat, the incarnation of Christ is reason enough.
He made himself as vulnerable and dependent as a baby—carried in an ordinary girl’s womb. Emptying himself of his glory, he chose to be cared for by a human mother. Mary was perhaps one of the first to know the power of this dignity-giving, shame-dispelling Saviour.
The incarnation was the beginning of the end of shame. It was the overturning of the curse of the fall. Mary sang because she knew nothing would ever be the same again. When we magnify him, everything else diminishes. Or rather, it falls into place.
