Do you think Mary knew?
When she held her newborn son in her arms, both of them exhausted and raw, she knew he was the Son of God, but did she know he was the Savior?
Did she know when she marvelled at his tiny hands and feet that one day she’d hold them when they were lifeless and more hole than flesh?
Did she know when he skinned his knee that she was wiping away the very blood that would wipe away her own sins?
Looking at my own child, three years old and a whirlwind of potential, I try to imagine knowing that, after thirty years of loving and nurturing her, she’ll die a gruesome death.
Not for nothing—for the sake of humanity—but still, that’s my baby. It makes me want to barf and also roll her in bubble wrap.
The only relief I can imagine for Mary is the same as her burden: When she kissed her son’s face, she was kissing the face of God. A mother’s love made urgent from knowing her child’s great and terrible destiny, brought to peace by drawing intimately close to Him.
It’s the same peace that’s available to us all, if we’ll just move into kissing range.
“Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” [Luke 2:19]⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀