J.M. Boyce writes in his book, “The Christ of Christmas”
The third way in which you and I can celebrate Christmas is to ponder it, for Mary, we are told, “treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19). Pondering is connected with amazement, of course, for it begins with it. But it also goes beyond amazement as an attempt to understand the mystery or figure it out. It implies a diving beneath the surface. If involves an effort to enter into the heart and counsels of God. Do that. Spend some time at Christmas thinking over what you know of God and trying to understand the ways of God more fully.
May I add one other thought to that? Pondering is work. It is not just brooding or getting into a pious frame of mind. It is an attempt to take what you know and then by an exercise of the mind to build upon it. Think what it involved in the case of Mary, Jesus’ mother. First, it involved her member; for we are told that she “treasured up all these things.” Second, it involved her affections, for she “treasures up all these things… in her heart.” Third, it involved her intellect; for she “treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”
Can you do that as a Christian? Of course, you can. You can remember the events. You an remember the moment in which they became real for you personally. You can sharpen up your affections; indeed, when you must, for it is a terrible thing to have your love for the one who is the Lord of love grow cold. Then you can think about these things and allow God to teach you more about Himself. Our time is poorly spent if we allow daily affairs to eclipse times of pondering upon God’s Word.
I’ve been doing a bit of reading this Advent Season, trying to preach advent messages from a fresh perspective. I came upon this from C.S. Lewis I thought I’d share.
In King Lear (III:VII) there is a man who is such a minor character that Shakespeare has not given him even a name; he is merely “First Servant.” All the characters around him – Regan, Cornwall, and Edmund – have fine long-term plans. They think they know how the story is going to end, and they are quite wrong. The servant has no such delusions. He has no notion of how the play is going to go. but he understands the present scene. He sees an abomination (the blinding of Gloucester) taking place. He will not stand it. His sword is out and pointed at his master’s breast in a moment: then Regan stabs him dead from behind. That is his whole part: eight lines all told. But if it were real life and not a play, that is the part it would be best to have acted.
The doctrine of the Second Coming teaches us that we do not and cannot know when the world drama will end. the curtain may be rung down at any moment: say, before you have finished reading this paragraph. This seems to some people intolerably frustrating. So many things would be interrupted. Perhaps you were going to get married next month, perhaps you were going to get a raise next week: you may be on the verge of a great scientific discovery; you may be maturing great social and political reforms. Surely no good and wise God would be so very unreasonable as to cut all this short? Not now, of all moments.
But we think thus because we keep on assuming that we know the play. We do not know the play. We do not even know whether we are in Act I or Act V. We do not know who are the major and the minor characters. The Author knows. The audience, if there is an audience (if angels and archangels and all the company of Heaven fill the pit and the stalls), may have an inkling. But we, never seeing the play from outside, never meeting any characters except the tiny minority who are “on” in the same scenes as ourselves, wholly ignorant of the future and very imperfectly informed about the past, cannot tell at what moment the end ought to come. That it will come when it ought, we may be sure; but we waste our time in guessing when that will be. That it has a meaning we may be sure, but we cannot see it. When it is over, we may be told. We are led to expect that the Author will have something to say to each of us on the part that each of us has played. The playing it well is what matters infinitely.
Thank you Mr. Lewis! Let us watch and be ready.