Mary's Yes and Our Good Judgement
Grasping at God's gift of good judgement, religious decision-making anxiety, and teenagers like Mary, mother of Jesus.
My daughter is sixteen. She might be the same age as Mary was when she gave birth to Jesus, if not a couple years older. Honestly, it really makes me rethink this whole virgin birth thing. In fact, it makes me wonder about my own teenage faith and ability to make judgments. Has the virgin birth provoked these thoughts for you, too?
The pageant born of a “yes”
When I was a kid, I'd go with my family to experience an elaborate nativity, a Christmas production that took us alongside Mary and Joseph’s journey as it unfolded. We snuggled into our coats for the foggy coastal weather. Carrying flashlights, we walked under the moon on a sprawling ranch from one station to the next. Here, we’d watch a series of dramatic reenactments, each depicting a scene of Mary’s story. We followed Mary as her belly bulged and back ached, comforted by Joseph as he led her on a donkey. We observed the couple be turned away when there was no room at the local inns. My dad often had the role of the tour guide, trying to bribe the Romans soldiers with his credit card. I loved that part.
But before all of that, at the very beginning, the angel Gabriel gave his message to Mary. Every time I watched the pageant, Mary said “yes.” Without that yes, we would never commence our own struggle through the muddy ranch, tailing behind her. And without her yes, wonder and hope wouldn’t be stronger than death’s strings plucking and pulling on me.
Immaculate conception
After hitting thirteen or fourteen, I remember my dad telling me I was old enough to play the part of Mary. I felt blown away. Surely I was way too young to have such a responsibility. And Mary was, too!
But it wasn’t until I was in high school—probably after I read the Left Behind Series—that I developed one of my greatest fears of that decade. I'd go to bed totally afraid that I'd wake up pregnant. For years I was scared that I would conceive immaculately, as ridiculous as it seemed. I was especially worried that no one would believe me when I’d tell them that I hadn’t had sex.
To make this fear worse, since the Messiah had already been born, and based on my very confused readings of Revelations, I was convinced I would birth the antichrist! Could you imagine being his mom? It would be horrible! I wondered if I would still love him, even though he would be Lucifer incarnate. Or was it that he would be possessed by a super powerful demon? What would that mean about me if I cared for him and raised him? That I would be a good loving mom? Or that I would be a terrible Christian?
My parents didn't know I harbored this anxiety. And it turns out I wasn't alone in this strange but very real fear. I’ve since spoken with a few other women who had it, too!
Only now do I realize that maybe I wouldn't have been so freaked out about this if I wasn't so scared I'd disappoint my family by having sex before marriage. I felt so relieved when I could cross “immaculate conception” off my list of worries when I actually did start having sex as a very young married woman.
Teen drama
This week, teenage drama, anxiety, and feistiness has been at its height. I’ve had to spend hours this week coaching my daughter through school projects and relational challenges. My prayer is that someday she will be confident to handle these scenarios herself. My daughter is amazing, don’t get me wrong. But she still thinks like a kid. She is one.
I’m going to be honest. If my daughter told me she got pregnant by the Holy Spirit, I definitely wouldn't believe her. Even if I would be on her side, supporting her, I would have no qualms making assumptions. Nor would I have a lick of guilt for kicking her boyfriend out of her life (at least for awhile)!
Does the cultural context cut it?
Most of the time, we cover any of our tension regarding Mary’s pregnancy with a blanket of cultural context. I’m greatest at this (or the worst, depending on how you look at it) because, remember? Cultural anthropology major over here! The arguments go like this:
Because of the historical culture, Mary was more mature than teens today and therefore could emotionally handle the social stigma of an unwed pregnancy.
Mary had experience with living “the real life” because that was what young women did in the ancient Middle East.
It wasn't weird how young Mary was when she and Joseph got together, because, you know, culture!
Even if those might be all true, let's just take a minute to sit with the fact this girl was still a child. Unless brains developed differently two-thousand years ago—which is a valid question—Mary’s brain was still a teenager’s brain!
Teenage brains
Let’s talk about teenager’s brains for a moment. I have two of these brains in my house, so although I am very familiar with them, you might not be.
Geeking out on neuroscience, I’ve been relieved that the scientific community at large now has evidence backing what we’ve known all along: teenage brains haven’t finished maturing yet. This concludes sometime in our early-mid twenties. In fact, the teenage years are known for the development of the prefrontal cortex. It is the part of the brain where learning to make good decisions, prioritizing, and planning happens. It is also when much of their social learning takes place, they learn how to respond to stress, and thankfully, their brains are still very adaptable.1
Not one of us is surprised by the researchers’ conclusions.
Exploitation
I've helped get anti-trafficking laws passed that protect kids from getting prosecuted for prostitution. Otherwise the law treats then as criminals, even if they are controlled by a pimp (trafficker) and are sexually exploited. We don’t want them treated as criminals though, because otherwise these teens have little hope for redemption or a path to leave “the life.” The reason they are there in the first place is because of force, fraud, or coercion (these three are how we define “lack of choice” in human trafficking).
Teens are extremely susceptible to this type of coercion/manipulation, which is why it is the average age of entry into the industry.2 Sadly, U.S. stats around trafficking make sense, because these kids’ brains aren't fully developed!
Hopefully you weren’t trafficked, but I do know many of you reading this have experienced other types of severe abuse or manipulation as a teenager. If this is your experience, I grieve with you. For others of us, in our younger years we might have experienced more subtle brainwashing. This is the time frame where the lies we believe about ourselves, our realities, and our relationships with faith/God often originate.
So I go back to wondering why God would choose a teenager, with a teenager brain, to be his sign? I don’t want to say it, but if I am honest—which I try to be here—I wonder if God was exploiting Mary.
Wondering and Christmas Magic
First, why did God even have to have a sign, “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.”3 I wonder about this until I remember that the whole point was that Jesus was fully God and fully human, needing the parentage of both. Without doubt, I love the incarnation of a God who understands me in all my humanness. And so I relent.
(Side note: wrote a beautiful article recently, God Enwombed,4 that weaves this idea with the concept of Imago Dei—I recommend it!)
Then, my next question is about whether the virgin birth is historical or an allegorical story. But I don’t want it to be an allegory. Where would the mystery be if Mary’s “yes” didn’t set off a chain of actual events? The glory of the Christmas story is found in its magic. Not Santa Claus magic—too often leveraged as just another patriarchal naughty/nice religion. No, I’m talking about Christmas God magic. It is the supernatural intervention into my captivity of imperfection and decay. Miracles alighting my heart with hope—I want to believe them.
So, if I see a purpose in the virgin birth and I admit that I love it’s divine alchemy, where does that leave me with Mary? Recently, I ran accross
’s theological article pointing out that God asked for Mary’s consent.5 Even the Holy Spirit didn’t impregnate someone without their yes. I find this relieving.(You might also appreciate Mary Art from
, which I found intriguing.)In fact, as I’m wondering anyway, I begin considering the gap of hundreds of years between the Messianic prophesies and Jesus. It is possible God sent Gabriel to other women in the years before Mary, and not one of them gave their consent. Were there noes before the yes?
Talking about mysteries, it is an intriguing one that God partners with us humans in the first place. Then I wonder if I’m actually not too different from Mary.
My teenage “yes”
God began making himself known to me long before my brain was fully developed, and not just because I grew up in church environments. I had multiple encounters with the supernatural and marvelous. Then, when I was just a fourteen-year-old girl, I was confident I was called by God into ministry. I was also convinced that it was my choice to respond, and I said yes.
By the time I was sixteen, I was saying yes a lot. I was ministering to people, leading Bible studies for other teens, writing worship music, and leading on our worship team, in addition to be involved in the humanitarian/missions’ work my parents were invested in. I often worked outside of the religious structure and would go away by myself to seek God without prompt. I wanted to foster my own relationship with God and learn how to study the Bible myself, not depending on teachers who I’d already seen abuse God’s word. I believed I should prepare myself for whatever good purpose God had for me.
I might have wanted to appear like my other teenage friends, but inside, I felt totally set apart. (Whether this is a good thing or bad thing is debatable, thanks to an unhelpful self-righteous bent.)
Don’t join the show choir
I wan’t just saying yes to follow God. I was also denying things I really wanted. Laugh if you want, but the Madrigals Show Choir (think “Glee”) was an extremely difficult thing for me to not join. It had everything I loved—unique experiences, travel, friends, and in my school, it also had popularity and prestige. Not just one, but for two years I had a guaranteed spot in it if I wanted it—my tryouts were just for show. Each time, everyone expected I would join it. And each time, I had a deep sense that it would not be a good choice for me. I believe the Spirit gave me the wisdom to see where it would led me.
Even more now, with the greater context I have looking back on my past, I still believe God was behind these yeses and noes. There were also other big decisions I made about my future that I believe were led by God, which happened in my teen years.
Do none of them matter because I was a teenager, with a teenage brain?
When Christian decision-making goes wrong
But for all my good decisions—usually those big foundational ones where I believed God was clearly guiding me—I had millions more I felt immobilized by. Ultimately, I didn’t trust my ability to make good decisions, something I am only recently coming to terms with.
Sure, some of this was because I didn’t always make great decisions. Like most teens, I yelled at my mom when pmsed, and had stupid crushes on stupid boys. Then there was that time I was grounded because I lied about carrying my novel home in the rain when I was expressly forbidden to . . . (maybe I wasn’t into partying or drugs, but I had my vices.)
Growing up as a woman in patriarchal churches, most decision-making felt like it was in the realm of men. Hearing quips like, “Well, Eve was the first to eat the apple!” didn’t help boost my confidence. My first response was always to parry-back, “It wasn’t an apple, guys!” when my priority should have been, “Well, if you want to get technical about it, sin came into the world through Adam, not Eve.”6
The verse, “…the heart is deceitful above all else.”7 was drilled into me. I even had a friend who loved it. How could you love that verse? In retrospect, I wonder if he applied it more reasonably that I, more like “Maybe look at what God says about this, get off your high-horse, and take a second-look at your judgement.” If only I understood it the same.
Is that God or my period speaking?
My greatest anxiety, though, revolved around understanding God’s will in the context of the leading of his Spirit. Although this type of anxiety isn’t reserved for those who grew up in Charismatic churches—something I’m actually grateful for—it definitely seems to be more prevalent there. It looks like this:
Is the Spirit prompting me to say something to those people at that bench? Is that a nudge or indigestion? Or is my indigestion really anxiety because I am not following God’s leading?
Did God just ask me to prove my love by asking me to lay down and get up seven times? Or did I latch onto something I don’t want to do, and now I am hyper-fixated on it?
Is that coincidence showing me it is God’s will for me to do something? After all, that parking space wasn’t open before, so maybe that means I am supposed to talk to the person in the care next to me?
Was that dream from God? Or am I just nervous about that test? Or was I not even supposed to take this class in the first place? Or was it just a plain old dream?
Is the Spirit telling me to give up that type of music? Or am I just afraid it isn’t good for me, because that denomination of Christians have made extra rules around that?
I am not hearing anything from God in the form of nudges, visions, dreams, flipping open the Bible to random pages, open-closed-doors, prophesy, etc… so how do I know what the Spirit wants?
Or the classic, is that God speaking or am I just on my period?
Paralyzed
For me, the combination of original sin, womanhood, lack of clarity about what the Spirit of God was directing, and some poor choices along the way brought me to the place where I often became paralyzed by decision-making.
Sometimes, I didn’t even trust my own judgement for the most basic decisions. In my early twenties, for example, at the sandwich counter I’d experience extreme anxiety. The pressure would build the longer I took. Eventually, I’d have to have someone else decide for me or leave. I was probably an unsafe driver, too. Arriving at stop-lights, I’d be unsure which way to turn because I didn’t know which way God wanted me to drive home.
I remember the first time I broached this with my husband as a young wife. His was appalled that I had been living this way. “There is no such thing as a “right way” to come home! God doesn’t care which way you go. Just come home!”
Good judgement
Occasionally, I still have to echo my husband’s words when making decisions as a leader, mom, and even when looking at the dinner menu. Not always having a “right way” has been beyond freeing. It was revolutionary to begin trusting my own capabilities, and not try to pull God’s will or the Holy Spirit’s guidance into every minute detail.
That last sentence still feels borderline sacrilegious to write, for I do want to walk in God’s will and hear the Spirit’s guidance. But I also know it isn’t God’s will for me to be held captive by anxiety under the label of “seeking” his will, either.
Here is what I hold to now:
Trusting in God’s goodness—in his love—means to put aside my fear of missing the “right thing.”8
As I abide in God, I can trust God will do his part to share with me what he wants me to know, for I am his daughter, co-worker, and friend.9
God built me with a brain because he designed me to think.10
God gives me wisdom because I ask him for it.11
Although I have a soul—a will—it is surrendered to God.12
My heart isn’t deceitful above all else, because I have been made into a new creation by him.13
Practice
The past couple years of illness have tested these new beliefs more often than I’d like.
I’d be in bed, exceptionally sick and agonizing over what to do. I’d be more distressed over unclear guidelines of when to head to the ER than the fact I was bleeding out. My fear of leaving my family to go back to the hospital—with more medical trauma and uncaring doctors—was always at a high. It felt torturous to make a choice I didn’t want to without the help of a loud voice from heaven. My husband would take me in his arms and pray for me to have peace and to know what to do. But in the end, I had to trust my own judgement. I reasoned that if God was big and good enough to keep me secure, he would intervene with either healing or clarity if I really needed it. Then, because I’d keep bleeding, or my blood pressure would go up, or my pain wouldn’t subside, I’d eventually decide it was more risky to stay home than it was to go in.
I wonder if I would have stepped up to the plate without the severe necessity of these decisions. I hated it; it definitely wasn’t how I would have chosen to boost my confidence! Now I see that God was with me the whole time. It was as if he was holding my hand, leaning over to whisper, “Elisa, you can do it! I designed you to make good decisions!” Those decisions saved my life on multiple occasions.
Now, I encourage my daughter to believe that she can make good decisions—not because she is perfect or totally trustworthy—but because she trusts God is shaping her into a woman who has good judgement. My prayer is that she doesn’t live with anxiety about her choices, but instead, that she will rest in her capabilities, for she has the right connections.
I’ll remind you the same.
God and Mary? Or God and I?
As I write this, it becomes clear that my issue hasn’t been with God and Mary, but between God and I. I hear the voice of the girl I used to be, showing me where I was marred and manipulated by my own misunderstandings of God and misaligned religious beliefs. Having my own teenage daughter brimming with youthful innocence and naïveté has caused my younger beliefs to bubble up to the surface. My teenager and Mary, Mother of Jesus, are just a context for my own examination.
The tension
As I rethink Mary, I have to accept the tension of her being both a child and a woman.
Jesus welcomes the child. Not because he wants to use and then spit them out, brainwash them, and manipulate them as religion has. He loves the qualities in children, like untainted confidence, hope without cynicism, and the grandeur of their dreams. God values their faith. I get this, as there are conversations I can have and things I can do with my children only because they have the wonder of children.
Teenage Mary still had the audacity to believe she could get pregnant! Her yes was about accepting God's calling for her life. Even Mary’a question, “how can this be?” is more of a curiosity, whereas six months earlier, her relative Zechariah was struck dumb in his own unbelief about impossibilities (which is a whole other topic to discuss another time). Teenage Mary still had childlike faith.
Then, Mary was a woman. She was a woman like how I tell my daughter she is a woman. My daughter is on the cusp of something incredible. Although the fearful part of me longs to protect her from pain, I want her to soar. When she is fully herself, the woman God created her to be, she comes alive. And the ripples of that already have world changing impact.
If I reframe Mary through my lens as a parent, I don’t see exploitation. I see God releasing her into her fullness through his calling on her life. Through her yes into womanhood, the added benefit was goodwill and peace for humankind. Her yes became God incarnate, Emmanuel with us.
The result of our childlike yeses are no different.
Follow me on Instagram here: @AuthenticallyElisa.
Note: All pieces of art were captured in the Medieval Wing of the San Diego Art Museum. If it really matters to you I can track down the names of the paintings the next time I go.
Isaiah 7:14
1 Corinthians 15:12-22
Jeremiah 17:9-10
1 John 4:18
John 15:15, Proverbs 3:32, Amos 3:7, Jeremiah 33:3, Ephesians 3:3-5, Jeremiah 33:3
Acts 17:28
James 1:5-8
Romans 12:1-2
2 Corinthians 5:16–17