Learning to Sing Mary’s Song: How Our Shame Fades When We Magnify Christ
by Kristine Amundrud
Learning to Sing Mary’s Song:
How Our Shame Fades When We Magnify Christ
by Kristine Amundrud
“Light your candles quietly, such candles as you possess, wherever you are.”
–Alfred Delp
I grew up with the inherited belief that details of our family stories should never be shared. To bring personal matters into the light only made room for judgement and gossip. Dark truths needed to be swept under the rug where they belonged. As a writer and in protest to this harmful belief system, I’ve combed for whatever light there is in my story, and I pray it comforts others.
Over the years, I’ve fought significant shame in key relationships. Finding much of my value in what I do, which group I belong to, and who likes me or doesn’t, led me down dark pathways of insecurity. The recent loss of a friendship rattled my identity, triggering memories that taunt: After all these years, you still disappoint others... Admittedly, I let down someone I cared about this past year, and they quietly walked away because of it. Sadly, no amount of striving on my end was able to rescue or adequately mend the friendship. It was over, and I reluctantly wore the cold jacket of blame.
When a connection is fractured, it’s normal to question ourselves, ruminating on personal inadequacies and shortcomings. Humans have magnified their injuries since the fall in this way. Shame is like a weed that keeps beautiful things from growing in our lives, and dark are its shadows and weighty are the wily ways it twists the truth.
Friendship loss bumps up against estrangement—another burden I feel sick over carrying. In this other ache, I was led to believe the broken bond was solely my fault, that I was guilty of the breakdown in communication. The helplessness I feel blankets me under the complicated weight of shame—again. I accuse myself: “How come you can’t make peace with your own mother?” I am all too good at pointing the finger at myself, taunting, “You haven’t been enough.”
As I work through some of the events of the past year, I find myself drawn to Mary and her strength of character. She was no stranger to facing the darkness of shame. A virgin betrothed to Joseph, Mary was chosen to carry the Messiah in her youthful frame and to be the vessel for his Incarnation. I wonder how on Earth she explained this cosmic news to loved ones, let alone acquaintances? This was no ordinary baby! Undoubtedly, countless fears circulated in her anxious heart during the time leading up to Christ’s birth: judgement and ridicule over an unexpected pregnancy, potential rejection from Joseph, and a new life mapped out far differently than she had imagined. How did she comprehend it all?
In the Gospel of Luke, we read about the Archangel Gabriel visiting Mary to announce that she has found favor with God (Luke 1:30). During that visit, he commands her not to fear before listing all the details surrounding the coming of the Son of the Most-High. Naturally, Mary would have been greatly troubled and confused, but as the Holy Spirit came upon her and the power of the Most-High overshadowed her, I imagine Mary was empowered to step out and do what was required of her in obedience (Luke 1:35). In the verses that follow, Gabriel introduces Elizabeth’s story to help Mary believe. Elizabeth, in her old age, had conceived and was now well-advanced in her pregnancy. It is clear that upon realizing the miracle God performed in her cousin, Mary felt reassured that truly nothing would be impossible with God (Luke 1:37).
It is during Mary’s visit to Elizabeth that she utters the beautiful song of praise we now call the Magnificat—a proclamation that further proved the Holy Spirit was with her. No one can say “Jesus is Lord” except in the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 12:3b).
Through the power of Mary’s song, we learn how to see God as the sovereign ruler of the world. Taught by her example to praise him from a place of humility, we hear how to submit our lives to his will. Through this song of praise, we are able to step into Mary’s life as she bravely shares her story with Elizabeth. How comforting to know that in sharing our stories, we too hold the key to releasing shame’s grip over our lives.
Mary magnified the Lord and chose to illuminate him—overlooking herself, her human limitations, and the most daunting of circumstances. “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” she sang (Luke 1:46). Mary preached to herself while reflecting on future generations calling her blessed. She moved from declaring what God had done in her own life to what he was doing and would do for you and me. Believers, I pray you come to know how this transcends beyond her pregnancy and into the resurrection. Isaiah 26:19 foretold of this authority over death, pointing to our future resurrection: “Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise. You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy! For your dew is a dew of light, and the earth will give birth to the dead.”
Mary sings, “God has scattered those full of pride in their innermost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from stoic thrones, and he fills the hungry with good things” (Luke 1:50-55). In this song of praise, Mary shone a light on God’s character and the astonishing ways in which he works. While the world honors the wealthy and powerful, God satiates those who need filling. Influential rulers hold onto transient sway, but God lifts up the forgotten and marginalized. Maybe that is you this Advent season.
Are there circumstances that cause you to feel like a failure, like I have? Is your outlook on life a dark one? Has the brokenness of a relationship left you feeling rejected and scorned? Are there voices within that have corroded your purpose, worth, and dignity? Mary’s Magnificat is a shining reminder that Christ is more than enough. We are promised, “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11). What Mary did and the words she sang are a gift for all mankind.
From an outsider’s perspective, she quite possibly could have drowned in shame. Rather, in God’s upside-down kingdom, Mary privately rejoiced! The first to know God as vulnerable and dependent, Mary was also the first to perceive the fullness of his power. Emptied out of glory, our Savior scattered the shame that began in Eden—the very thing that attempts to make a mighty God seem small.
Christ is the embodiment of a righteous God’s full acceptance. He will never turn his back on you or punish you from a place of disappointment. Though we were once estranged from God, we are no longer. Hold that glowing ember in your hand, dear one. God is changing shame into praise (Zephaniah 3:19).
This Advent season, as your spirit anticipates the light, consider making Mary’s Song of Praise your own. Oh, that we all could sing like Mary while groaning for the light! In choosing not to embrace public scorn and the hurtful opinions of others, Mary was able to magnify God instead, which was the higher calling on her life—the higher calling on all our lives. In the agonizing pain of divorce or separation, in the silent ache of estrangement, through the sting of betrayal, and more, let Mary’s song point you to Emmanuel—God with us! He tells us who we are and whose we are when we have forgotten!
You are loved beyond measure no matter what the world says about you. You were never a mistake or a disappointment. The quicksand of shame that threatens to pull you under is a lie to renounce. Allow Mary’s words to shine a beacon of bright hope into the dark corners of your story, and most importantly, onto our beloved Savior!
Mary’s Song of Praise: The Magnificat
And Mary said,
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
And his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers,
to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”
—Luke 1:46-55
A Prayer to Rest In:
Father God,
You have loved us with an everlasting love, a light that will never burn out! We see this so clearly in the birth of Jesus, our Emmanuel and Rescuer. There are many doubts and fears that claw at our peace and threaten our true identity in Christ. We confess to carrying things that were never ours to bear. When insults are hurled and lies cause us to question, may we run straight into your Abba arms–dwelling on you more than any hurt or offense. Lord, your presence is our true beacon of hope as we journey through Advent and into the New Year! May our hearts beat in a constant posture of praise!
Amen.
A Poem to Help You Praise:
by Angelus Silesius
Lo, in the silent night
A child to God is born,
And all is brought again
That ere was lost or lorn.
Could but thy soul, O man,
Become a silent night!
God would be born in thee
And set all things aright.
Art: from Nativity with Saint Francis and Saint Lawrence, by Caravaggio, 1609
KRISTINE AMUNDRUD
Kristine Amundrud is a poet of faith, passionate about pursuing healing through story-work and writing. She hopes you will find traces of God’s redemptive power in her words and that something will stir inside of you upon reading. Currently living in rural Central Alberta, she’s drawn to the majestic Canadian Rockies out her front doorstep. Kristine finds immense joy in dreaming alongside her husband, Joseph, and their three treasures, Britta, Elsa, and Soren. She is honored to have work featured in The Way Back to Ourselves, Calla Press, Vessels of Light, Solid Food Press, and Truly Co. Connect with her on Instagram: @kamundrud.