Sermon Tone Analysis

/Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart/…

/His mother treasured all these things in her heart/.

Did you ever witness an event of such magnitude that for days afterward you were disturbed as you weighed what you had witnessed?

It may have been something that was said or some event, but it made such an impact on your mind that you could not quite shake the thought that a turning point of life had been reached.

As time passed you may have found a reason for the event or the thought, and perhaps even now you occasionally mull over in your mind the meaning of that singular event.

You know you have witnessed something momentous, but the full impact is not yet apparent.

Something like that happened at least twice to Mary, the human vessel chosen to give birth to Jesus.

Some religious groups promote stories of Jesus’ youth which make Him out to be scarcely more than a conjuror or a cheap magician.

Despite these fanciful accounts, we are given few details of the childhood years of our Saviour in God's Word.

More than that is unnecessary either for the purposes of the Word of God or for a complete revelation of the Saviour.

However, in the abbreviated accounts of His birth and of one incident when He was twelve years of age, our version provides a wonderfully poetic and insightful commentary on Mary's reaction to the events which swirled about her.  Twice Dr. Luke says of this young peasant woman that she treasured up all these things [*Luke 1:19,51*].

Even a cursory examination of Luke’s words provides exciting insight into the treasury of the heart.

What is intriguing to students of the Word is that though Luke twice speaks of Mary treasuring up the things which were occurring, in either instance he employs a different word.

A word study of his statement is helpful in obtaining understanding.*

**Verse 19* employs the word sunethvrei, the imperfect of sunthrevw, meaning to keep in mind, or as it is translated in our version to hold or to treasure up (in one's memory).

Other instances of the employment of this word are* **Matthew 9:17*, to keep safe and sound or to preserve as in the *NIV*; and to observe strictly or to secure from harm or to protect as in *Mark 6:20* in the *NIV*.

*            **Verse 51*, on the other hand, uses the slightly different word diethvrei, the imperfect of diathrevw meaning to watch carefully or to guard with vigilance.

The only other instance of the use of this word in the New Testament is also by Dr. Luke.

In *Acts 15:29* he uses this same word.

There it relates the directive of the apostles and elders in Jerusalem to the Gentiles.

In that place and context the word means to keep one’s self or to abstain wholly from.

Hence the *NIV* translation translates the word abstain in this instance.

The root of either word is the somewhat more common Greek word threvw, which conveys the idea of /watching/, keeping, or guarding as is evident in both the account of the actions and of the charge given the guards at the crucifixion of Jesus [*Matthew 27:36,54*] and before the tomb [*Matthew 28:4*].

The word would readily be employed to convey the idea of keeping in custody or the concept of jailing as in Acts* 12:5, 24:23* or *25:4*.

So, threvw commonly speaks of security.

Likewise sunthrevw and diathrevw each speak of a particular act of keeping, especially as it relates to memories.

Dr.

Luke chose, therefore, a most descriptive word in either instance.

Thus, the choice directed by God's Spirit is not superfluous.

After this somewhat extended excursus through some of the peculiarities of the language employed by writers of the New Testament, the question may fairly be asked, "What has this to do with the message?"

Indeed, we ought to ask how we may apply this somewhat esoteric information to advantage as believers in the Risen Christ.

The answer of necessity lies in our desire to serve the Lord our God, to honour Him in every act, and to keep His sayings in our hearts.

Weigh The Contrast of Spiritual Presence*.*

Other than what we are provided in the nativity narratives, the Word of God tells us nothing of the development of faith in this young Jewish teenager chosen to share in the incarnation drama of the Son of God by bearing Him into the world.

We do know that in time she became a worshiper of the One she bore and whom she knew so intimately as her firstborn [see *John 2:5* and *Acts 1:14*].

However, we also know that Mary struggled over the issue of faith in Him as her Lord.

You will no doubt remember that on at least one occasion she was carried away by the emotions of other family members; or perhaps it was that she herself questioned His claim to be the Son of God.

On that singular occasion Mary came with other family members, determined to seize Him — by force if necessary, because the family members had agreed among themselves that He [was] out of His mind [*Mark 3:21,31,32*].

Mary's own faith toward her son Jesus obviously did not influence her other children for we read that during the days of His flesh even His own brothers did not believe in Him [*John 7:5*].

It seems best to state that Mary was human, and that she faced much the same struggle that any of us face in our intimacy with God.

Clearly, at the time of the nativity, and during the months preceding that divine birth, a marvellous drama had played out on the Judean stage.

Never had heaven seemed nearer to earth then during those days.

Elizabeth, Mary's cousin, was with child in her old age, her husband Zechariah having been visited by an angel while ministering before the altar.

Mary had been visited by an angel who announced that she was to bear the Messiah.

Her body had shortly yielded evidence to substantiate his words.

Her espoused husband had likewise been visited by the angel to calm his own fears concerning the pregnancy of his betrothed.

Clearly, these were momentous events, but in the main the circumstances were confined to the one family.

Beyond a few neighbours and friends, what impact did the visit of angels have on the earth?

Time passed; and she gave birth to a little boy in conditions which could only be described as poverty‑stricken and unthinkable, even for a Jewish teenager wed to a hard-working tradesman, citizens of an impoverished and occupied nation.

No doubt the angelic announcements to Mary and to Joseph had served to immediately calm their hearts and given them sufficient courage to withstand the wagging tongues of their fellow townspeople in Nazareth.

Yet they would be silenced by the knowledge that the tale they could have told of angels visiting and a miraculous birth would be viewed as clearly fantastic by those who had not themselves seen the angel.

We wonder at Joseph taking the young woman with him to register at Bethlehem.

According to the rules of Roman census it wasn’t necessary for a wife to accompany the head of the household to enrol on the list for taxation.

Likely Mary accompanied Joseph so that she would be spared the hostile criticism and expressions of righteous indignation directed toward her as she neared her term.

Whether or not they had considered the prophecies given long years before, they were moving toward fulfilment of one of the great prophecies, for the Messiah must be born in Bethlehem.

The little village was filled with travellers, most of whom had arrived long before Joseph and Mary and had found shelter with family members or in the only local inn.

Had Joseph been alone, perhaps he would have sought shelter among the hills of Judea, but Mary was with him.

Desperate for some form of shelter for his young wife, he made repeated enquiries until he secured permission for the only available shelter in the town — a sheep-cote.

There, Mary delivered her firstborn son … without midwives, without celebration, without the comfort of family save for a scared husband still in his teens who would have had scant experience at assisting at the delivery of children.

The manger scenes on our Christmas cards all show a stable in the North American tradition.

There is shelter from the cold night wind with a variety of animals gathered around the little family.

Lying in the manger on a bed of clean straw covered by a warm receiving blanket is the new-born Son of God.

The scene is a sanitised construction of our own imagination.

We are offended by the thought of barnyard smells and filth, and we cannot imagine that God would permit His Son to be born into squalor.

The cotes of Bethlehem are still used in this day.

They are caves carved into the hillsides.

Centuries of accumulated sheep dung serve as flooring for the caves.

Despite the night winds, the caves would be humid and dark, the stench of fresh dung overpowering.

Into foulness such as we dare not permit ourselves to imagine, God sent His Son.  Do you imagine that these foul conditions went unnoticed by Mary and Joseph?

Do you think that they did not question what was happening?

If this were the Son of God, why would the Father choose to send Him into the world in such poverty and permit Him to be born in such misery?

You may be assured that Mary was quite likely confused and hurt at the thought of her failure to bring her child into the world under cleaner conditions.

What of Joseph?

What man would without reservation rejoice at the thought of his child being born into the world under such squalid conditions?

But now a chorus of angels … not one, but a great company.

Shepherds appeared with a glorious story of holy angels.

They were specifically directed to the cave, knowing that within its darkened interior they would find the Messiah.

In the most primitive of conditions, in the filthiest environment imaginable they would find the very babe of whom angels sang.

The Word of God is quite precise in stating that the shepherds were vocal toward all they met, telling them of the events they had witnessed.

“We have seen the Christ!

He is born!

The angels of God have appeared in chorus with a message of glory and peace!”

No wonder all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them [*Luke 2:18*].

Why would Mary treasure up all these things, pondering them in her heart?

Surely she had heard marvellous things from the shepherds, but hadn’t she also seen Gabriel with her own eyes and with her own ears heard from him the message of God?  Hadn’t she experienced the power of the Most High overshadowing her and setting in motion the birth of this child?

Mary knew all these things from first-hand experience.

Why should she be reduced to pondering what the shepherds said?

The answer no doubt lies in the contrast between the expectations she had and the conditions in which she now found herself.

Spiritual expectations seldom reflect reality.

We imagine that the presence of the Son of God will change our physical situation.

There is an entire religious movement spanning denominations, which reflects this strange dichotomy between expectations and reality.

Even when we recognise the distinction we are liable to be caught up in holding unrealistic expectations.

The Word Faith movement and related transdenominational movements speak to people’s expectations of what it will mean if God is present.

Surely God would not permit Himself to be found in filth and poverty!

Surely the people of God, if they dwell in the presence of God, will never experience reversal and want!

The voices of Kenneth and Gloria Copeland, of Kenneth Hagin and of Benny Hinn unite with a growing multitude of voices chanting the mantra that the presence of God will shield from all unpleasantness.

Even when we reject such distorted theologies, we are yet prone to question God when we ourselves experience reversal and injury.

“Why?” is the first question to escape our mouth when we are crushed by reversal of our fortune.

What did Mary expect?

Whatever she anticipated it would not likely have included filth and poverty and even opposition.