The Magnificat

You hear that God's love's free. It doesn't come because of what you can give him. It comes because he's freely chosen to love you. That's tremendously liberating. You don't need to prove anything. God didn't save you to use you. He didn't save you because he needed you. He saved you because he wanted you. He saved you because he loves you.

CTK Sermons is a ministry of Christ the King Presbyterian Church. CTK is a community rooted in the depth of the gospel, refined by hard conversations, fueled by meaningful relationships, and committed to redemptive work in Raleigh. My name is Elliot Grudem. I'm one of the pastors here. It's good to get to preach for you this morning.

Some of you know, Susan Bradford, wife of Jeff Bradford, our senior pastor—her mother died the day before Thanksgiving, and the funeral was yesterday. So Jeff asked if I would preach today. I was happy to do so.

This morning, we're looking at a passage in Luke chapter one—a song that Mary, the mother of Jesus, sings after she processes what it means that she's going to give birth to the Son of God. It's often called the Magnificat. That's just a Latin word—really the first word in the Latin translation of the song.

Let's look at it together. Let's read it together. It's on the screen behind me.

Mary said, "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God, my Savior. For he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on, all generations will call me blessed. For he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm. He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate. He has filled the hungry with good things and the rich he has sent empty away. He has helped his servant Israel in remembrance of his mercy as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and his offspring forever." — Luke 1:46-55

The word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.

Let me pray. Jesus, we thank you that you are present here with us now by your Spirit. And we ask as you look at these wonderful things in your word, your Spirit would help us understand them. And that your Spirit would bring about the change in our hearts that you desire—that we would leave here a people deeper in love with you and deeper in love with one another. It's in your name, Jesus, that we ask these things. Amen.

Christmas Jesus vs. The Incarnation

Berkshire Hathaway—it's a holding company run by the famous investor Warren Buffett—owns among other things, See's Candy. See's Candy is the candy in the white vintage-looking box that's sold in kiosks in just about every mall every Christmas. And there's a reason they set up those kiosks at the mall. About 90% of their sales come in the three weeks before Christmas.

Buffett once jokingly said about See's, "Our company song is 'What a Friend We Have in Jesus.'" Christmas tends to be a time when Jesus gets the most positive press. Apparently, he helps sell candy. A lot of people riff off Ricky Bobby and like Christmas Jesus the best—little lord Jesus, no crying, he makes it comfortable. The baby who smiles as the little boy wakes him with a drum solo is pretty universally liked. It's a safe Jesus, one we can manage, one who's fairly innocuous. Christmas Jesus doesn't demand much. He doesn't offer much either, other than maybe a little bit of sentimentality.

Well, that picture of Jesus may fit some familiar Christmas songs. It's pretty far from the one that Mary sang about in the passage we just read. Mary sang about God, my Savior. This is God taking on flesh, being born of a woman and living in our world. It's what theologians refer to as the incarnation, and it's much more than Christmas Jesus.

Author Frederick Buechner explained it this way. He wrote: "The incarnation is a kind of vast joke whereby the creator of the ends of the earth comes among us in diapers. Until we have taken the idea of the God-man seriously enough to be scandalized by it, we've not taken it as seriously as it demands to be taken."

Well, before we get to the reasons why Buechner wrote that, a little background on Mary and this song. Mary's a teenager engaged to a man named Joseph. An angel shows up and tells her that she's found favor with God, and she will soon give birth to a son whom she should call Jesus. But that's not what makes the incarnation scandalous.

Let me pick up their conversation in Luke one thirty-one:

"And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus," the angel says. "He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father, David." — Luke 1:31-32

And he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom, there will be no end. And Mary said to the angel, how will this be since I'm a virgin? And the angel answered her, the holy spirit will come upon you and the power of the most high will overshadow you. Therefore, the child to be born will be called holy, the son of God.

Surprising, but still not what makes the incarnation scandalous. Mary hears all this and then responds:

Behold, I'm the servant of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word.

And then she heads to her relative's house. And over that four day journey, reflects on what she's just heard. I'm gonna give birth to the son of God. God himself will take on flesh and live on earth to save me, to save us, to save all people. And there's the scandal of the incarnation. It's a scandal of grace.

The Scandal of Grace

As has been said, grace always has about it the scent of scandal. It has to. Otherwise, it wouldn't be grace. God must be gracious to us if we're to be saved, and that grace always has to have about it the scent of scandal if we have reason to be saved.

And so Mary sings as she starts her song:

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God, my savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. — Luke 1:46-48

The blessings of God come to us corporately. God saves his people and they come to us individually. God saves me and he saves you, which means God's grace meets us where we're at, where we are even today, and gives us what we need. We're broken people living in a broken world. And if you need hope and deliverance, Mary's song is good news for you. If you long for the world to be healed, Mary's song is good news for you. If you're looking for words to celebrate what God is doing, Mary's song is for you. Which means Mary's song is a song for all of us who see our great need and need a great savior. For a song tells us that God comes to save and his salvation changes everything.

In verse 49, Mary sings:

He who is mighty has done great things for me.

So what does the mighty one do? Well, he saves her. Look at how she starts her song:

Because my soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices again in God, my savior.

Mighty God can save because he has the power to save. But not only that, he's willing to do whatever it takes to save his people. Jesus came to Earth, took on flesh, was born of a woman so he could heal what's in the flesh. It's the only way that could happen is as one old theologian explained, only that which God becomes is healed.

God Sees

But it's not just that mighty God saved her or that mighty God came near. Mighty God saw her. He noticed Mary. Look at verse 48:

For he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on, all generations will call me blessed.

Now what does she mean by that? Well, Luke starts his gospel with three main characters: Zechariah, Elizabeth, and Mary. He takes great care to tell the lineage of Zechariah and Elizabeth, and they've got a really good lineage. He even tells of the lineage of David, whose lineage is also quite good. He tells the lineage of Mary's fiancée, not of David, of Mary's fiancée, Joseph, who's in the line of David, which is the only ink that Joseph gets in the first chapter. We know nothing of Mary's family. And the assumption is that she has none or has a family of no real reputation. She's a social orphan and maybe even a physical one too.

Luke only really tells us two things about her. She's a virgin, and she's about to get married. And once people find out about the pregnancy, how many people are gonna believe the first? And once Joseph finds out about the pregnancy, he starts to break off the engagement. She starts with little. She's about to have nothing. I think she realizes this, but she knows that God saw her and that changes everything.

For he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed. For he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. — Luke 1:48-49

Because God saved her, she says, from now on everything changed. God intervened. Mary is blessed. God sees Mary. He understands her situation. He saves her. She's no longer just one of humble estate because God saved her. All generations are gonna call her blessed. God's love comes to those who can offer nothing in return but their need. God steps in and blesses a poor teenager of no societal consequence. That's the kind of God he is. His salvation changes everything.

Where society sees no value, God sees tremendous value. In fact, as we'll see in a moment, God takes society's values and turns them on their head. So if you feel like you're in a similar place to Mary, it seems like you really don't have much going for you. Good news. God sees you.

If you're striving forever to distance yourself from your humble situation and it's killing you because you never quite get as far as you want, good news. God sees you and says your striving can come to an end. And it's not just good news for those like Mary who don't believe they have much going for them.

See, Luke wrote this gospel to a primarily upper middle class church-going group. Many of them were benefactors—wealthy individuals that got bombarded with requests for financial aid. They were considered the means of survival for those like Mary who were in need, and they made society work. Rome collected taxes, but it wasn't enough. Rome relied on the wealthy to make society function. In return, the wealthy received honor. The wealthy thrived on the honor that came from their generosities to society—good seats to theater, names on buildings, and so on. But it was a never-ending game. You're only as valuable as your last donation.

So if you're of that class of citizen and you just heard this:

He has looked on the humble estate of a servant. Behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed. For he who is mighty has done great things for me and holy is his name. And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. — Luke 1:48-50

You hear that God's love is free. It doesn't come because of what you can give him. It comes because he's freely chosen to love you. That's tremendously liberating. You don't need to prove anything. God didn't save you to use you. He didn't save you because he needed you. He saved you because he wanted you. He saved you because he loves you. And it was he who is mighty that saved you.

In verse 50, we read that God's mercy is eternal from generation to generation. Jesus' kingdom will be without end. That's really good news. The salvation of our society doesn't rest on any of our shoulders. Our status in life doesn't depend on doing something or getting something from someone else. Our value and status is not determined by our care or provision for anyone.

And I think Mary understands this. She understands that God blesses those who can't help themselves, and that's really good news for all of us. It's simply a matter of admitting our real need. When Mary calls God her savior, she confesses that she's in need of being saved. And then a verse later, Mary calls herself blessed by God. Both of those things—admitting your need and calling yourself blessed—can be hard. Some of you like the control that comes from not being in need. You're good at relying on only one person: yourself. Anything else puts you a little bit out of sorts. Others are more comfortable with an identity of being lowly, less than, in need.

Mary's song reminds us that God's salvation meets us where we're at, but doesn't leave us there. It changes everything. God saves us in our lowliest state, and he blesses us.

Mary believes that the baby in her womb, Jesus, is the fulfillment of God's promises to save his people. So like a good DJ, she samples from other writings in the Old Testament for her song. She will give birth to God's promised deliverer. People will call her blessed because of the baby in her womb—not because of her womb or reverence or service or giving birth in a stable. Jesus will bless people in all generations, past, present, future, in accord with God's promises.

That's what Mary means when she says in verses 54 and 55:

He has helped his servant Israel, as he spoke to our fathers. — Luke 1:54-55

God saved Mary through his Son, Jesus, and he continues to save people and work for their good through his Son, Jesus. He can bring about the most unusual, unforeseen reversal. Nothing, nothing is impossible for him. God can turn everything on its head—not just for Mary, but for all his children. And in doing so, he's going to usher in a new age, one that will end with his never-ending kingdom of justice and mercy and peace.

The Kingdom Under Roman Rule

See, Mary sang this song when the nation of Israel was under Roman rule. They had their king Herod, but Herod was a type of king that thought nothing of slaughtering all of the babies in Bethlehem just because one of them posed a potential threat to his rule. He had no problem killing his wife or kids just because he thought they might take his throne. He arrested a bunch of well-loved citizens as he got closer to his death and threw them in jail and had orders that they be executed the day that he died—not because he had anything against them, but he wanted people to mourn when he died, even if they weren't mourning for him.

He was so ruthless that it's reported Augustus, the Roman emperor that kept Herod in power, knowing of Herod's unwillingness to touch unclean swine, said he would rather be Herod's pig than Herod's son. Not a nice man. But it wasn't like Augustus was a benevolent ruler either.

He ushered in the great era of Roman peace, but his peace didn't come through political negotiation. The Romans knew only one solution to political problems, and that was their army. And prior to Roman rule, the faithful Jews had to live with their own rulers, one of whom solved a fight with religious authorities this way. He took 800 or some men that were opposed to him, nailed him to crosses, and as they hung dying, slaughtered their wives and children at their feet.

So if you take the last hundred years—just the last hundred years before Mary's song—the faithful Jews, those who feared God and sought to obey him, these were people who were oppressed by a proud, power-hungry, arrogant group of rulers who gave no thought to God, his law, or the way they treated his people.

With that in mind, listen to what Mary sings in verse 51:

He has shown strength with his arm. He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate. He's filled the hungry with good things and the rich he has sent empty away. He has helped his servant Israel in remembrance of his mercy. — Luke 1:51-54

Can you start to grasp just even a little bit the hope and joy that Mary felt when the angel told her God's long-for king was coming? Oh, can you grasp just a little bit what she might have felt when she heard she was to give birth to the king whose eternal rule and reign would be known for perfect justice and peace?

But even in light of that, here's the twist that I'm not sure Mary fully understood at the time. Victory would come not through political force, but through an act of unprecedented love and grace. Jesus didn't come to Earth the first time to bring the judgment. He came to bear it. He didn't slay with the sword of justice. Justice came as he took nails in his hands and a spear in his side.

The complete judgment and justice will come at Jesus' second coming to Earth, but a greater victory came first. See, Herod and Augustus weren't God's people's greatest oppressors. Satan was. And Rome wasn't God's people's greatest problem. Sin was. Herod could kill their body, but sin would take their soul.

Sin. My sin, your sin, our sin. The many ways we disrespect God and his law. We violate his law in thought, word, and deed, and things done and things undone. The right punishment for our sin is death. Jesus took on flesh and entered our world to receive that punishment for us. Jesus didn't stay dead. He rose victorious over sin and death.

But don't miss this. He had to die for you, for me, for us. He died for our sins so we could be forgiven them and be blessed for his righteousness. And so the incarnation is not only a promise of great deliverance, it's also a promise of great sacrifice. Salvation came in the person of Jesus, and it came at a great cost—his life.

Jesus coming to Earth as a child started one continual act of humiliation and obedience that ended in his death. There's no other way for us to be saved. Again, only that which God becomes is healed. Grace always has to have about it the scandal of being something you've done nothing to earn, nothing to deserve, and everything to be excluded from it. But if Jesus is your savior, you've got it. In fact, we continue to do things that prove we don't deserve it, and yet Jesus still loves us, forgives us, and keeps giving that grace to us.

English minister John Newton explains Jesus' love for us like this:

Could we bear from one another what he daily bears from us? Yet this glorious friend and brother loves us though we treat him thus. Though for good we render ill, he accounts us brethren still.

The Season of Waiting

One of the major themes in the first part of Luke's gospel is waiting. People whose reality doesn't seem to match up with God's promises, and so they're waiting. They're longing for the gap to be filled, waiting for God's salvation to come. And then it does, and Jesus takes on flesh and comes to Earth, and they see God's salvation in the person of Jesus, and it's better than they hoped or imagined.

Though we understand more than Mary did when the angels showed up, sometimes the waiting can get to us too. Things on earth aren't supposed to be the way they are, and we feel it. Noah Khan, the singer-songwriter who writes a lot about his native New England, maybe says something similar this way. He sings, "I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks." I love the way he describes that—the season of the sticks. It's a time of transition. It's not spring. It's not summer. It's not the pretty part of fall. The trees are empty, the skies are gray, and there's nothing snow-covered to make it pretty again. It won't last forever, but waiting in the transition can sometimes feel depressing.

And we find ourselves in similar times of transition.

We've experienced the hope of spring and the beauty of summer and early fall waiting for a snow-covered Christmas, but it's not the weather that gets to us most. It's the broken relationships. A world that seems like a ticking time bomb. The way others hurt us, the way we hurt others. Those stark reminders that things aren't always as they're supposed to be.

We might know the promises of God. We've experienced his goodness and grace, but sometimes it seems like evil and sin will forever be the norm in our life and the lives of others or in the world. And so we wait. What do we do in the seasons of the sticks that really doesn't align with our hope?

Well, Noah Conde says he tries everything to get over an unwanted breakup—getting angry, numbing himself, doing good, getting help, traveling, dreaming about a different outcome—but nothing seems to provide any lasting relief. Let's not pick on Noah Conde, but I think there's a better way.

There are four things we can take from someone like Mary, who wait for the promised future to invade our presence. We'll look at them each really briefly. The four are: trust God, be curious, celebrate often, and cling to hope.

Trust God

Mary hears the angel tell her she's gonna give birth to the Son of God. She responds by saying:

Behold, I'm the servant of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word.

From our vantage point, that may seem like an obvious response, but you have to put yourself in her shoes. Again, life is never easy for a single mom, if she even makes it that far. When Joseph finds out she's pregnant, he makes plans to break off the engagement. She could face the death penalty for what can only be assumed was adultery. Who's gonna believe her? I mean, it takes angels talking to Joseph to get him to go forward with the marriage.

I'm sure the pregnancy wasn't easy. I'm sure everyone was talking about, looking, assuming, or telling Joseph how noble he wants to stick with her. And yet through it all, Mary trusts God and believes his promises. That trust finds expression in her obeying God regardless of the possible cost.

And I don't know about you, but here's when that gets tough for me: when the sacrifices I make don't get me the results I hope for. Well, entitlement can quickly follow. Unchecked entitlement erodes spiritual boundaries that can sear your conscience. You getting yours becomes primary. Trusting and obeying God becomes secondary. You find yourself doing things you know you shouldn't because you believe you've got the right to do them. It's a real temptation to do whatever you wanna do when it seems God is distant or isn't rewarding your obedience, or it seems he doesn't really care.

But there's a better way. Trust God in a way that finds expression in obedience, even though it's hard. And when you don't, confess your sin, receive his forgiveness, and work to change your ways.

Be Curious

Trust God and then be curious. Be expectantly curious. Asking questions like: Where's God at work today? What is he doing here? What might God be up to here? The kind of expectant curiosity that helps fight cynicism.

See, the cynic doesn't need to be curious. The cynic doesn't need to trust. The cynic doesn't need God to work or be up to much of anything, for the cynic is never wrong, never surprised. Says things like, "Nothing good will ever come of this" and "I know all this is gonna end."

When you trust God even amidst questions and doubts, in a way that has you expectantly looking for the ways he's at work, it often results in your seeing the ways he's at work, and it's most often better than you could hope or imagine.

See, when the angel came to Mary, she was hoping for a king that would deliver God's people from Roman rule in a way that honored God. She got something far better. God himself took on flesh in the person of Jesus, and Jesus lived and died for Mary's eternal salvation and my salvation and yours too. No one but God could grow up and draw up a plan of deliverance like that. It's shocking. It's surprising. It's better than any of our plans, and it's perfect.

Be curious. He's at work in similar surprising ways today. We just need to be humble enough to see them.

Celebrate Often

Trust God, be curious, and then celebrate often. When you see God at work, celebrate. Celebrate the big things. Celebrate the small things. Celebrating what God does reminds us that it's not gonna be dark forever. Light broke through the darkness and it will again. Eternity entered your present. Change is possible. Progress is too. Tomorrow didn't have to be like yesterday. God is at work. Jesus is king, and he cares about you.

Right celebration includes thanking the one who made it possible. As Mary says:

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God, my savior.

God's blessed me and he's blessed you. We need to be humble enough to see it and celebrate. Sometimes that's tough for me, and I found that starting with an old prayer often helps prompt thanksgiving.

It's a simple prayer that goes like this: "For all thy blessings known and unknown, remembered and forgotten, we give thee thanks." And then I stop. And I consider. And I thank God for the specific blessings, the big and small for me and for others. For those blessings remind me that he's still at work in the world. He hadn't left us. He hadn't forgotten us. He still cares about us.

To trust God, be curious, celebrate often—and taken together, those help me look to the future with hope. We see isn't all there is, nor is it all that there will be. Cling to that hope like Mary. Let the promises of God in the Bible define your hope.

Again, much of Mary's song is lifted from the promises found in the Old Testament. It's what she knew. They shaped her thoughts and guided her prayers. They gave her situation meaning. She knew what to hope for and so to look for it and rejoice when it happened. And the same could be true for us. We spent time in God's words, letting his promises shape our hope and guide our prayers so that we see them come true, we can celebrate—not our situation as much as God's salvation.

A Word About Despair

Well, back to our friend Noah Khan. If you know the song, you know that nothing helps him get over the breakup. Frustrated, he settles into the despondency and decides to fill the season of the sticks by drinking until his friends come home for Christmas.

And look, despondency is real. There are times we try to stay faithful and look for God at work, but we can't find anything to celebrate. Life doesn't make sense. Hope seems far off. And it's in those times—no matter whether it's something big that's knocked you back or it seems like death by a thousand paper cuts—it's in those times that you need to get with others to trust God and see and celebrate the places God's at work and cling to hope and let them remind you there's a better way. Let them remind you of what's true.

A Story from England

I'll end with a story of a relatively small setback that maybe explains what I mean. Number years ago, my family and I spent a bit of the summer in England. I was born there, lived there as a teen. It's one of my favorite places to go. Anyway, for this trip, we were all committed to letting everyone pick one thing they wanted everyone to do together. My wife chose a gorgeous walk along the South Coast. My daughter picked something Harry Potter related, and I wanted to attend a specific church service and eat a Sunday supper at a specific pub, of course.

When I lived there, some of my fondest memories were traditional Sunday supper with friends—roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roasted potatoes, vegetables. I wanted to share that experience with my family. So we spent Saturday—the Saturday before the service and Sunday supper—couple hours from the church. We got up early Sunday morning, packed the car, but we couldn't leave because we had a flat tire.

Called roadside assistance. Apparently, in England, roadside assistance like Chick-fil-A, they couldn't help on Sunday. The best they could offer was to tow us to a tire store where we could sit in the car and wait till they open on Monday morning and put a new tire on the vehicle. Frustrated, threw the bags out of the trunk, popped open that little compartment in the back to grab the spare only to find there was no spare there. There was just a can of fix-flat. It seemed like a cruel joke.

So I drove much faster and longer than I should have on a tire filled with fix-a-flat, found an open rental car location, got a new car, but it's all too late. We're not gonna make church and we're not gonna make Sunday supper. And so I spent the drive to our hotel, pouting like a three-year-old who got ice cream but is mad because it wasn't the ice cream he wanted.

Check into our hotel. Wife Casey looked at the service schedule at the local Anglican church. They had a Choral Evensong in ten minutes. That's a traditional evening prayer service that's sung. My daughter's exhausted. Casey's tired of spending time with me. And so she says, "You need to go to church." I sulked off to the cathedral, sat in the back by myself just after the service started, still dwelling on my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Isn't what I wanted. I never get what I want. This isn't gonna be any good.

And then the whole congregation stands and the choir sang over us, and they sang what they do at every evensong:

My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God, my savior. For he hath regarded the lowliness of his handmaiden. For behold, from henceforth, all generations shall call me blessed. For he that is mighty hath magnified me and holy is his name and his mercy is on them that fear him throughout all generations.

I started to quietly weep, not for the missed lunch or the flat tire, lack of roadside assistance, or any of the other very minor disappointments from that day.

But for all it represented, things aren't as they're supposed to be. But God surprised me in spite of my cynicism, and he reminded me that things aren't gonna be that way. Sometimes the wounds go deep. Other times, it's a thousand paper cuts, but they both hurt. And God, full of grace, regarded our loneliness and did something about it, not because I deserved it, especially that day, but because he loves me.

And he still loves me, and he still loves you, and he's still bringing deliverance. He's put us in a community, this church made up of fellow recipients of that love and mercy that can sing it over us when we can't sing it over ourselves. God took on flesh and he humbled himself to become a baby and lived and died and rose again so that he could lavish scandalous grace on us.

If you've received that grace, sing about it from deep within your soul. And when you can't, get with others that'll sing it over you. And either way, you're reminded that God has not left you in this world and its sin and misery. He took on sin and misery and defeated it. The best is yet to come.

For he who is mighty has done great things for me and holy is his name and his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.

Jesus, we ask that in spite of our circumstances, you will help us begin to believe that's true. In your name, we pray. Amen.

Thank you for listening to our CTK Raleigh sermons podcast. CTK is a community rooted in the depth of the word. For more information about our church in general, please visit our website at ctkrealeigh.org.