A Tiny Nativity for Us All: What Mary’s Experience Teaches Us About the Light
by Kimberly Phinney
A Tiny Nativity for Us All:
What Mary’s Experience Teaches Us About the Light
By Kimberly Phinney
“Behold, the virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel,” which is translated, “God with us.”
–Matthew 1:23
I often wonder about Mary and the tiny nativity she carried in her womb—long before the world embraced her son. I think about Mary, as she gave birth to the Light of the world in a humble burrow in a far-off place—long before she could fully comprehend the gravity of her calling. And I sometimes imagine what it must have felt like for Mary to raise the Son of God as her child—long before she could fathom the darkness she would soon endure because of his destiny.
Mary, unlike anyone else, knew what it was like to give a home to this great Light—her baby—as his earthly body grew in her womb. Mary, unlike anyone else, knew what it was like to be ever so near to her growing boy, who would one day become a man—a man who was also God. Mary knew what it was like to hold his Light close as son and Messiah in ordinary days, all while coming to the revelation that she would have to lose him in the most heinous way possible—all so a very dark thing could become the very best thing that could ever happen to mankind.
Mary’s experience is one that none of us will ever know. It’s almost impossible to contemplate—let alone understand. But it’s in this wondering when I feel close enough to grasp at what her journey wants to teach us all about the Light of Christ—especially when we find ourselves in the darkest and most hidden places.
The Advent season is so precious because of the contemplation and anticipation it allows us all month long. Yes, Christmas Day is a blessed gift, but it is just that: a day. The Advent season, in some ways, is a miniature of what our souls long to do all year long—and in that, throughout all our lives. Yet despite this deep desire, we find continuous mediation nearly impossible. We even lose sight of the blessed assurance of the coming Light during Advent itself with all our hustle and bustle, as we work furiously to check off every item on our Christmas “to-do” list.
So, how are we to practice this “with-ness” all year long? How are we to feel and know the great Light of Christ’s coming and sacrifice when we find ourselves in the dark night of the soul or in the grips of deep loss, pain, or fear?
One answer is to look to Mary and that tiny nativity—the miraculous witness and “with-ness”—she embodied with her life. The Light Mary physically carried, birthed, loved, raised, followed, and lost is connected to the very Holy Spirit we carry inside of ourselves today as a part of the Triune. The third Person of the Trinity is not just some ethereal, abstract concept. It is Christ with us. It is his Light (sacrifice) for our darkness (sin). It is his Light (divine presence) in our darkness (suffering). It is his Light (eternal life) after our darkness (death). His Light is the great panacea for all the darkness we will face, and in this knowing, there is peace.
When we look to Mary’s life as our guide, we can begin to unpack the eternal Light of Christ and understand that he always was, always is, and always will be. His Light shined before his coming as an infant in Mary’s womb, inhabiting her being with “a peace that surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). He was then born in a manger, as a “gentle and lowly” king, heaping blessings and divine purpose on her head (Matthew 11:29). Then, Jesus grew into a man, was baptized as the Son of Man (Matthew 3:13-17), went on to fulfill all the prophecies of the promised Messiah, and then died a sinner’s death so that he might save all of mankind with his redemptive Light. And all the while, Mary looked on faithfully, basking in the full knowledge of her Savior Son and bearing witness to his most brutal moments—as his mother, follower, and friend. Mary experienced her son—our Savior—in all his forms, and she carried his tiny nativity—where his first breath of Light pierced the darkness—within herself for all the days of her life.
This same blessed assurance can be ours too—even in our despair, even in the depths, even in death. It is written in Luke 2:19 after Jesus was born that “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Mary’s example is the very contemplation we can cultivate in the Advent season and all year round.
May we learn to treasure and ponder like Mary. And may we learn to see the true shining Light of Christ in our darkest moments. He bends to hold you through divorce. He deigns to cradle you in your depression and anxiety. He swoops to guard you from destruction. He comes near to comfort you in your singleness, childlessness, loneliness, and joblessness. He draws close to bind up your wounds in your illness, disease, or addiction. Your darkness does not scare him. Rather, it endears you to him. Your wounds are not to be covered up. They are to be exposed—because as Rumi once wrote, long before Christ’s birth, “The wound is where the Light enters you.” And I have often wondered, How did he know?
If we can slow down just a bit to treasure the person of Jesus and ponder the miracle of his Light just a little more each day, we will find that the nativity wasn’t just one day in ancient Christian history, or just a holy spectacle for those who witnessed it up close. The nativity is eternal—unfolding again and again across the span of time—and it is for all of us.
Like Mary, we can learn to carry this tiny nativity, this act of being born (and reborn) within ourselves wherever we go. And when we find ourselves in the dark again, we can rest in the promise that Jesus’s shining Light is within us, waiting to burst through the pitch of night and allay our deepest suffering with the greatest story ever told, for we have this promise: “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it” (John 1:4-5).
It is our hope that this Advent series stirs the tiny nativity that may be burning dimly in your heart and ignites it once more with Scripture and truth framed around relatable storytelling from a collection of writers who are honored to journey with you through the month of December in our six-part series, which explores the many ways Christ’s Light breaks through the darkness.
So please, bookmark this space to come back again and again. And when you do, pull up a chair, light a candle, brew your favorite coffee or tea, and sit and stay a while. There is a Light for our darkness, and He is near. May we treasure and ponder His birth, life, and sacrifice and be changed.
Art: from Nativity with Saint Francis and Saint Lawrence, by Caravaggio, 1609
KIMBERLY PHINNEY
Kimberly Phinney is a writer, professor, and counselor. She’s been published in Christianity Today, Ekstasis, Fathom, Humana Obscura, Calla Press, and more. She is founder of www.TheWayBack2Ourselves.com. Her poem “Exalted Ground” was nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2024 with The Dewdrop. Her poem “An Ode to Hard Dark Nights” won the Audience Choice Award in the Bright Wings Poetry Contest with Ekstasis and Makers and Mystics in 2024. And her small collection of poetry from Of Wings and Dirt won runner up in Fathom Magazine’s Poetry Contest in 2023.
A doctoral candidate in community care and counseling, Kimberly holds an M.Ed. in English and studied at Goddard’s Creative Writing MFA program. She was featured on Good Morning America for a national award and teaching through critical illness. Her poetry collection, Of Wings and Dirt, was a bestseller on the Amazon Charts in 2024 for several months. Her second book of poetry, Exalted Ground: Poems of Praise and Lament for the Living, will be published in 2025.