“And Mary said, “Behold, I am the servantof the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her” (Lk. 1:38). 

For several weeks I have been meditating on Mary’s response to the angelic visitation, specifically her response, “let it be to me according to your word.” Why? 

As the Gospel of Luke unfolds, we are introduced to Zechariah, a faithful priest serving in the Holy Place (Lk. 1:5-23). Zechariah has maturity, experience, learning, and positional advantage in life, yet when Gabriel announces the coming birth of a son, John, he questions the news. He says, “How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.” 

Mary’s response to Gabriel’s announcement is simple, yet it carries eternal weight. She does not argue, negotiate, or delay. She simply says, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord … let it be to me according to your word.” In that moment, she places her life in God’s hands. As a betrothed young woman, to be found with child outside of wedlock would be a scandal, resulting in lifelong stigma. Her surrender to the will of the Lord, however, becomes the doorway through which the Word became flesh (Jn. 1:14) and salvation entered the world (Jn. 3:16). 

Both Zechariah and Mary asked Gabriel a question. Yet, Zechariah’s question is framed as a desire for proof, essentially doubting Gabriel’s word. He wants a sign in order to believe. His muteness becomes not only a judgment, but also a sign. 

Mary’s question is not about whether or not the miracle will happen, but how it will happen. She accepts the word, but seeks to understand the means of it happening. Gabriel explains, and her response is one of faith, humility and submission, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” 

When Zechariah, a faithful priest of advanced years, experienced in the Word of God hears, he doubts. When Mary, a humble young woman with no social significance or standing hears, she trusts. Zechariah is corrected by muteness, only healed when the word is fulfilled. Mary is favored by the Lord because she believed, and responded with a willingness to submit to His will. 

Zechariah’s proof was in the Word. Abraham and Sarah were well past childbearing years (99 and 89, respectively), yet the Lord opened Sarah’s womb. What Gabriel announced to Zechariah had precedent in Israel’s history. Mary asked for clarification, yet she did not express unbelief or doubt. Her faithful response had only the prophecy of Isaiah to rely on, “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel” (Isa. 7:14), but this prophecy was more than enough. The Word of God is sure, forever settled, and reliable. In life there will be times of fear, and even doubt, but we are not led by either physical response, we are led in life by God’s Holy Word. 

Faith is not concerned with age or status, here a priest faltered, and a humble maiden believed. The Lord honors trust, even without all the answers, over skepticism. A teenaged Mary becomes a model of discipleship by responding, “Let it be…” Mary surrendered to the mystery, when Zechariah desired a sign. He doubted the possibility of God’s Word, while Mary trusted and only asked about the manner of fulfillment. This is why Zechariah was disciplined, while Mary was blessed among women. 

Mary did not have all the answers. She did not know how Joseph would respond, how her community would treat her, or how she would bear the weight of raising the Promised Son, Yeshua/Jesus. Still, she trusted God’s Word more than her own understanding. 

Faith is not the absence of questions; it is the choice to trust God even when the way before us is unclear.

Mary’s “yes” is an example to us. Each day, God invites us to trust Him with our lives, our families, our vocations, our ministries, and our futures. Like Mary, we may face uncertainty. But when we say, “Be it unto me according to thy word,” we submit ourselves to the Lord’s transforming work.

Where is God asking you to surrender today? What promise feels impossible, yet you are called to trust? How might your “yes” become a blessing for others, even the wider world?

Lord, teach us to trust Your Word above our fears. Give us a heart to surrender according to Your Word. May our lives echo the faith exampled in Mary, so that we may be conformed to the image of Your Son, as He shines through us. Amen. 

Maranatha. Shalom. 

In Hosea 6:1–3 we read, “Come, let us return to the LORD; for He has torn us, that He may heal us; He has struck us down, and He will bind us up. After two days He will revive us; on the third day He will raise us up, that we may live before Him. Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD; His going out is sure as the dawn; He will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.”

 This passage confronts us with a paradox: the Lord wounds us, yet His purpose is to heal us. He tears, but His goal is restoration. The prophet Hosea reveals that divine wounding is never arbitrary. It has purpose, it is redemptive, and ultimately life-giving.

 People who know me, know that I have had two knee replacement surgeries. Major surgery, such as knee replacement, illustrates the truth the Lord’s redemptive work, wounding to bring healing, vividly. The procedure is invasive, even brutal to the untrained eye. Bones are cut, tissue is removed, and foreign material is implanted. The body is wounded in ways that seem excessive. Yet the surgeon’s intent is not harm, but healing. The “brutality” is precisely measured, only to the extent necessary to restore mobility, relieve pain, and bring long-term wellness. I can attest to the seeming brutality, but also to the long-term benefit of healing from the wound. Prior to my surgery, the bone-on-bone pain was a sign of continued destruction, but after surgery, the pain was a sign of constructive healing. 

 So it is with the Lord. His wounds may feel overwhelming, His discipline severe, but His wounds are never without purpose. What seems excessive is exactly what is needed to restore us to Him. His wounding is not destruction, it is life-giving surgery for the afflicted soul.

 Sin has wounded humanity deeply, and created a chasm too broad for us to cross (Lk. 16:19-31). Still, Isaiah prophesied, “He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed” (Isa. 53:5). Yeshua/Jesus bore the brutality of the ultimate “surgery” of the cross, taking upon Himself the wounds of our rebellion. His suffering was not random cruelty, but the precise, necessary act to heal the wound of sin, and give eternal life to those believing (Jn. 3:16; Eph. 2:8-10).

 The brutality of the crucifixion mirrors the brutality of surgery: both are invasive, both involve pain, and both seem excessive. Yet in Christ’s case, the wounds were not His own, they were ours. He took them willingly, so that we might be restored to God. His resurrection on the third day fulfills Hosea’s promise: “After two days He will revive us; on the third day He will raise us up, that we may live before Him.”

 The Lord’s wounding is always restorative: Discipline: He tears down pride so He can rebuild humility. Correction: He exposes sin so He can cleanse and forgive. Healing: He allows brokenness so He can bind us up with His grace and mercy.

 Like surgery in the natural, His work may leave scars, but those scars testify and give witness to healing. They remind us that what once was diseased or broken has been restored. The work of my surgeon and his team was so precise that the healed scar is hardly visible. In light of the brutality of the surgery and the excessive swelling in the weeks following, all that remains is a slight scar. His surgery in the moment may seem excessive, brutal, too much for us to bear, but in the recovery, we see just how precise He was, and that not one wound was beyond the purpose of bringing healing. 

 Hosea concludes with a call: “Let us know; let us press on to know the LORD.” Healing is not the end; it is the beginning of deeper relationship with the Living God. 

After knee replacement surgery, recovery involves icing and working the new joint, getting up to walk even with the pain and instability in order to regain strength and mobility. So we must press forward in discipleship after the Great Physician wounds in order to heal, then living in the restored relationship Messiah has secured. We must now walk by faith and not by sight (2 Cor. 5:7). 

 The wounds of the Lord are not signs of His cruelty, but of His love for us. They are the surgeon’s incisions, precise and purposeful, meant to bring life. Yeshua/Jesus bore the ultimate wound so that we might be healed eternally. And now, every wound we endure under His hand is a step toward restoration, a scar that testifies to His mercy, and a reminder that His coming to us is as sure as the dawn. May He come speedily, even in our days. 

 Maranatha. Shalom. 

“Now there was leaning on Yeshua’s bosom one of His disciples, whom Yeshua loved” (Jn. 13:23). 

John’s posture at the Passover Seder was not accidental. To lean upon the chest of Jesus was to draw near enough to hear His heartbeat. In that moment, John was not only close in body, but attuned in spirit. The rhythm of the Messiah’s heart spoke of His love, His faithfulness, and the coming sacrifice of redemption.

Today, this image invites us to consider: what does it mean to hear the heartbeat of Yeshua?

Intimacy over distance: John’s closeness reminds us that discipleship is not solely an intellectual assent, but relational nearness. We are called to rest in Him, not just walk behind Him.

Love as the rhythm of life: The heartbeat John heard was the pulse of His love. To hear Yeshua’s heartbeat today is to let His love set the rhythm of our own lives, our decisions, our relationships, and our ministry, as it is all about Him. 

Peace in the midst of turmoil: The Last Supper was shadowed by betrayal and impending suffering. Yet, John was at peace while leaning into Yeshua. In our own seasons of uncertainty, His heartbeat also steadies and calms us.

Identity rooted in belovedness: John is described as “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” Hearing His heartbeat affirms our identity as beloved sons and daughters in the household of God, not defined by failure or striving but by His love for us.

To hear His heartbeat now is to cultivate devotion, prayer, and worship where His presence is not just acknowledged, but embraced. Take time to be with Him. Let Scripture and the Holy Spirit draw you so close that you discern His desires, His griefs, His joys. It is to live in rhythm with Him, with our heartbeat synchronized with His.

Yeshua, our Beloved, draw us close enough to hear Your heartbeat. Let Your example of love steady our fears, shape our choices, and define our identity. May we, like John, rest upon You and find peace in Your presence. Teach us to live in step with Your heart, as others experience and hear Your love through us. Amen.

Maranatha. Shalom.