Mary knew…

When Jesus saw his mother standing there beside the disciple he loved, he said to her, “Dear woman, here is your son.”

The scandalous and rumor-filled beginning to Mary’s journey into motherhood was a precursor to what was ahead. A bookend that would have a brutal Roman cross at the other end.

For thirty-three years Mary accompanied her son, as only a mother can. Through the joys and sorrows. In times of intimacy and times of public outrage. While the palm branches waved and when the accusations flew. When the compliments simmered, and while the hatred surged.

Mary knew just how miraculous and sacred this child was. Others believed by faith, Mary knew. Her fidelity to Joseph had never waned. Her vow was secure. But pregnant she was.

And Mary also knew… right from the start, that the life of her son would be controversial. Polarizing. “God with us” wasn’t welcome news for everyone. “Peace on earth” stirred hatred, jealousy and evil in the corridors of the clergy and elite. Jesus was anything but good news to those who clung to power.

She’d been warned…

Then Simeon blessed them, and he said to Mary, the baby’s mother, “This child is destined to cause many in Israel to fall, and many others to rise. He has been sent as a sign from God, but many will oppose him. As a result, the deepest thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your very soul.”

Just days after His birth into austerity, she had been told. First a humble and gracious blessing, and then a reality check. Praise mingled with a prophetic warning.

And thirty-three years later, when most Hebrew mothers are reveling and reflecting over the reputations of their children… Mary stood by a cross. Listening. Aching. Weeping.

“A sword will pierce your very soul.” Indeed.

Every fiber of her being, pierced. In anguish.

Her son. Now becoming her Savior… on the cross. Because of the cross. Through the cross.

Mary. The aspirational starring role for every young lady in Sunday school… a burden bearer. First she carried a secret, then the false accusations, then the ridicule of those He offended, then the mockery of her home town, and then the flaming ire of those who despised Him.

He was misjudged. He was maligned. He was misunderstood. The whispers and sneering only intensified after His birth.

She looked up to Him throughout His life, but now she looked up to Him on a cross. Jesus. Forever her firstborn. A miracle worker… from conception to the cross. Her son. Jesus.

Yet Jesus, even in His most desperate hour, did not abandon her. Even with the salvation of the world hanging in the balance, He saw her. He advocated for her. He loved her.

Mary knew. From the manger to the cross. Mary knew.

Rumors about His conception gave way to lies about His confession. “I am the way…”

The pain of childbirth paling in comparison to the pain of injustice.

Mary knew. She knew first. But she no longer knows alone.

First it was Joseph at her side. Faithful. Honorably. Then John. A surrogate son. A custodian of love.

A mix of joy and sorrow. For the sake of hope. For the cause of love.

Mary knew.

And now, so do we.