December 19, 2024
Our three children were terrible sleepers. Not a one of them truly slept through the night until 18-months-old. That means that for about straight six years, Jess and I were being awakened by somebody every single night.
I know well that feeling of being awakened suddenly. That rush of “Where am I” and “What is going on.” Rubbing your hands across your face to wipe away the sleep and come to. The confusion and frustration and annoyance.
Can you see a little of that in the face of this young woman?
There is a form of prayer I’ve grown to love called visio divina (“sacred seeing”). In this form of prayer, you contemplate a piece of art that depicts a story or idea from scripture. You focus on the things that catch your eye (and you ask why). You notice the choices made by the artist (and you ask why).
So, I invite you into a posture of prayer. Begin by taking three deep breaths and, as you do, repeat this prayer as you make yourself more aware of God’s presence: “God, you are here and I am here.”
Now look at this painting created in 1898 by Henry Ossawa Tanner called The Annunciation. Really look at it. In fact, I’d recommend starting a three-minute timer and intentionally drink in all of the little details of this work of art.
This is the moment when the angel Gabriel comes to a young Mary to tell her that she shall bear the hope of the world (Luke 1:26-38).
Notice that she has been awakened suddenly in the night. Her blankets are still wrinkled and rumpled. She is not “put together” like Mary is often depicted in kitschy art of this scene. This has come upon her suddenly and without warning. But isn’t that often how the presence of God finds us? We are often caught off-guard by a new awareness, a new challenge. We often treat the presence of God like an honored guest coming to our home where we months to prepare a sumptuous meal and wash the baseboards. But God often does not call ahead or make an appointed. God often shakes us awake in the night when our bed is unkempt and we’ve got sleep boogers and we’re startled.
What expression do you see on Mary’s face? Oftentimes we depict Mary as this completely submissive vessel, but I see a bit of healthy snark in her expression. There is a quizzical look, perhaps even a twinge of doubt, here. This is not some emotionless, robotic saint acquiescing to be used. This is a girl who questions Gabriel: “How can this be?” (Luke 1:34). God is not afraid of our questions, our anxieties, or our doubts. God welcomes our wonderings. That freedom to question is at the heart of what God truly wants from us: genuine, authentic relationship.
Tanner depicts Gabriel as a shaft of light, filling the room with an otherworldly glow. There is a shelf on the wall behind Gabriel and, together with the angel’s presence, it forms the shape of a cross. Gabriel tells Mary that this child she shall bear “will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High” (Luke 1:32). However, greatness itself shall be redefined by this baby. Greatness will not be found in a high palace or on a golden throne or a White House. Greatness shall be defined by a God who puts on flesh and allows himself to die the death of a common criminal on a cross. Greatness shall be transformed by this child.
What do you see, sisters and brothers? How does your “sacred seeing” of this painting during this Advent invite you into this story of Christmas?
Editor’s Note: This will be the last A Cup of Change for the year. Tyler will pick it back up on January 9th.
