Mary’s Submission Did Not Eliminate Her Humanity

By Beth Herrington Kruprzak; Hellbender Preserve

When the angel Gabriel spoke to Mary, her response has echoed through generations:

Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.
— Luke 1:38, ESV

These words are often quoted as the pinnacle of submission—and they are. But they were not spoken by someone untouched by fear or uncertainty. Mary was fully human. Her submission did not mean the absence of emotion; it meant the presence of trust.

For a young woman in Nazareth, this calling carried real and immediate danger. According to the traditions and law of her time, a woman found to be pregnant during betrothal could be publicly shamed, divorced, or even stoned for presumed unfaithfulness (Deuteronomy 22:23–24). Mary would have understood this risk the moment the angel departed.

The Bible does not record Mary’s private tears, racing thoughts, or moments of fear—but Scripture’s silence does not imply their absence. Faith is not proven by the lack of struggle; it is proven by who we turn to in the midst of it.

Mary’s next recorded action is revealing. She goes quickly to Elizabeth, a woman who also carried a miraculous promise. There, Mary’s words flow not with panic, but with worship:

My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.
— Luke 1:46–47, ESV

This was not denial—it was reliance.
Mary anchored herself in what she knew to be true about God.

Her song reflects a deep familiarity with God’s past faithfulness:

He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers.
— Luke 1:54–55, ESV

Mary understood something vital: the God who had been faithful before would be faithful again. She could not see the outcome, but she knew the character of the One who held it.

This Christmas season has been emotionally challenging for our family. Like Mary, we are experiencing a future redirected in ways we did not expect. Plans have shifted. Certainty has been replaced with questions. The path ahead feels unfamiliar, and at times unseen.

There are moments when the unknown becomes loud—when fear competes for our attention and our hearts grow weary from trying to anticipate what lies ahead. Like Mary, we are learning again what it means to trust God where we cannot see.

Faith, in these moments, becomes a daily decision.

When uncertainty threatens peace, God’s Word becomes an anchor. These are Scriptures I return to—verses to memorize, repeat, and cling to when the future feels unclear:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
and do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make straight your paths.
— Proverbs 3:5–6, ESV

You keep him in perfect peace
whose mind is stayed on you,
because he trusts in you.
— Isaiah 26:3, ESV

Cast all your anxieties on him,
because he cares for you.
— 1 Peter 5:7, ESV

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord…
plans for welfare and not for evil,
to give you a future and a hope.
— Jeremiah 29:11, ESV

Mary did not know how the story would unfold—but she trusted the Author. This Christmas, as we wait in the tension between promise and fulfillment, we are learning to do the same.

Second Week of Advent: Faith, Bethlehem, and the Shepherds Who First Heard the Good News

We are in the second week of Advent, our focus turns to faith—trusting in God’s promises even before we see the full picture. Some traditions call this the Peace week, and both  fit  with the story God wrote in Bethlehem on the night Christ was born.

Bethlehem wasn’t chosen accidentally. Centuries earlier, the prophet Micah declared:

But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah… from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel.
— Micah 5:2, ESV

This small, quiet town—whose name means “House of Bread”—would become the birthplace of the Bread of Life. Bethlehem reminds us that God often does His greatest work in the most unexpected places.

Luke 2:9–18 tells us that the first announcement of Jesus’ birth came not to royalty, not to religious leaders, not to the socially powerful—but to shepherds. These men held the lowest economic position in society, yet they were deeply familiar with Israel’s hope for a coming Messiah. In fact, they raised the very sheep used for Temple sacrifices.

On what began as just another quiet night, everything changed:

And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them…
— Luke 2:9, ESV

God broke into their ordinary routine with extraordinary glory. Heaven opened, and these humble shepherds were the first to hear the most important news the world has ever known.

Their response was simple and full of faith:

Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened…
— Luke 2:15, ESV

They believed.
They went.
They saw.
They worshiped.
And they told others.

The shepherds remind us that God welcomes the willing, not the impressive. Their uncomplicated lives left room for revelation. Their knowledge of sacrifice helped them understand who this Child truly was: the Lamb of God, come to take away the sin of the world.

Our culture celebrates Christmas with lights, gatherings, traditions, and special services. These are wonderful gifts—but they aren’t the heart of Christmas.

It’s possible to know the story of Christmas without knowing the Savior of Christmas.

Advent whispers to us that the miracle of Christ is not grasped merely with the mind. It must be received with the heart. The shepherds didn’t just hear information—they encountered God. And that encounter changed everything.

The second candle of Advent is traditionally known as the Bethlehem Candle. It represents:

• Faith — trusting that God keeps His promises.
• Peace — the peace the angels proclaimed to the world:

Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!
— Luke 2:14, ESV

This candle reminds us that peace isn’t found in perfect circumstances but in a perfect Savior. Jesus came near so we could know the peace of God in every season of life.

When the shepherds returned to their fields, nothing looked different—but they were different:

And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen…
— Luke 2:20, ESV

Christmas is not meant for December alone.
It is not a feeling reserved for Christmas Eve.
It is not a tradition squeezed into once-a-year gatherings.

Christmas is meant to live in us every single day.

When we walk closely with Christ, the truth of Christmas becomes visible in:

• how we love,
• how we give,
• how we worship,
• how we trust,
• and how we shine His light in a weary world.

This second week of Advent invites us to pause and ask:

Do I merely know the story of Christmas, or am I living in the presence of Christ Himself?

May our faith be like the shepherds—simple, sincere, and ready to respond when God breaks into the ordinary moments of our lives.

The First Week of Advent: A Season of Waiting, Hope, and Honest Reflection

As December begins and Christmas lights start appearing in windows, the season of Advent gently arrives, inviting us to slow down and remember what (and who) we’re truly waiting for. Advent means “coming,” and for Christians it centers on two arrivals: Jesus coming as a humble Child in Bethlehem, and Jesus coming again as King and Redeemer.
Scripture gives language to this longing:The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.— Isaiah 9:2
Advent reminds us that the world is not as it should be. We wait for peace, for justice, for restoration. It is a season that acknowledges longing, even groaning, as we continue to hope for what is not yet fully seen.
The apostle Paul captures this beautifully:For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees?  But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
Advent is meaningful not because everything is merry, but because God enters our world precisely when it is broken. It tells us that we don’t have to pretend. We can hold joy and sorrow in the same hands because light has stepped into the darkness.
For many, the season magnifies grief, loneliness, or the ache of what once was. The world says this should be “the happiest time of year,” but hearts often tell a different story.
Advent makes room for that reality. It echoes the Psalmist:“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18
Even when our hearts feel heavy, Advent whispers that God meets us there. The first Christmas wasn’t wrapped in perfection—it unfolded in a world longing for rescue.
Christians walk through the same valleys as anyone else. We grieve, we struggle, we wrestle with uncertainty. Outwardly, our lives may look no different. But inwardly, our hope is anchored in Someone greater than our circumstances.
Jesus said,I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” — John 16:33
Our joy is rooted not in a season, but in a Savior. Our hope is not fragile because it rests in promises God Himself has made:We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, — Hebrews 6:19
And because of this, even in sorrow, we lift our eyes to the future God has prepared. Augustine of Hippo described believers as citizens of the City of God while living in the city of man—passing through this world with our hearts set on a better one.
Scripture calls us the same:But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, — Philippians 3:20

The first week of Advent traditionally focuses on hope. Not vague optimism, but confident expectation rooted in God’s faithfulness.
– We are people of promise.For all the promises of God find their Yes in him. That is why it is through him that we utter our Amen to God for his glory. — 2 Corinthians 1:20- We are people of light.The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. — John 1:5- We are people of a secure future.And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” — Revelation 21:5
Advent pulls us back into the bigger story—the story of a God who came near, who still comes near, and who will come again.
May this first week of Advent help us embrace both the honesty of our struggles and the certainty of our hope. Even in seasons of loneliness or sorrow, we wait not in despair, but in the glow of a promise already unfolding.
He who testifies to these things says, “Surely I am coming soon.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! — Revelation 22:20