Advent Day 22 – Love

Love that Breaks the Mold
Luke 1:39-55
"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." (Luke 1:50-51)
 
Let’s talk about love—not the sappy, Hallmark kind or the Pinterest-perfect holiday romance, but the kind that makes the ground shift beneath your feet. The messy, radical, cosmic love that flips tables and expectations, the love Mary sings about in her Magnificat.

Here’s Mary, a young woman on the margins of society, singing a song so bold it’s practically a manifesto. She’s not just humming about cozy vibes by the fire; she’s proclaiming a love so fierce it disrupts power structures. God’s love, she tells us, lifts the lowly, feeds the hungry, and sends the arrogant packing. It’s not a love that stays polite or plays by the rules—it’s a love that changes everything.
 
And this love? It starts with a young, poor, pregnant girl in an occupied land—a girl who has every reason to doubt her worth, who has every reason to stay silent and blend into the shadows. But instead, she steps up, raises her voice, and sings about a love so transformative it shakes the heavens. Mary’s story reminds us that love isn’t about who the world says you should be; it’s about stepping into who God calls you to be.
 
As the queer pastor with a flair for the dramatic (and let’s face it, a deep appreciation for glitter), I find Mary’s courage electric. I know what it’s like to be underestimated because you don’t fit the mold. People don’t always know what to do with eccentricity, with unbridled joy, with esoteric prayers, with a passion for both theology and theatrics, and with a tendency to ask, “who says I can’t?” But here’s the thing: God does. God doesn’t just tolerate us; God delights in us. God looks at the parts of us that others call “too much” and says, “That’s exactly what I need.”
 
This is the love Mary proclaims—a love that delights in the unexpected and lifts up the overlooked. It’s a love that sees every awkward, beautiful, glittery part of who we are and calls it good. And it’s a love that compels us to act—not to conform, but to bring our full, authentic selves into the work of justice and mercy.
 
Think about it: Mary sang her song before any of it happened. Before the hungry were fed, before the lowly were lifted, before the powerful were brought down. She proclaimed God’s justice while the world still felt unjust. That’s the miracle of Advent—leaning into the already-but-not-yet, believing that love can transform even when it feels like the odds are stacked against us. It’s about trusting that the seeds of love we plant today will grow into something holy, even if we can’t see it yet.
 
I thought about Mary’s courage as I stood before our United Methodist Church Emergency Response Team when they stayed overnight in our youth arena in early December. This group of volunteers had come together after Hurricane Helene’s devastation, ready to roll up their sleeves and get to work in the hardest-hit areas. Before they headed out, we gathered for worship—small, humble, powerful.
 
We prayed for strength, for safety, for the people whose lives and homes had been torn apart. I watched as these ordinary people prepared to do extraordinary things. They were nervous but determined, knowing that love isn’t just about words—it’s about showing up in the mess and the rubble, offering whatever you have.
 
The love I saw in that room wasn’t flashy or comfortable. It was gritty, determined, and raw. It was love that carries buckets of debris, patches broken roofs, and listens to stories of loss with tears in their eyes. It was love that asks, “How can I help rebuild what’s been lost?” and answers, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
 
As I led that worship, I saw Mary’s song reflected in their faces. These were the ones lifting the lowly, caring for the hurting, and trusting that even in the devastation, God’s justice and mercy could take root. They didn’t wait for perfect conditions or for someone else to step in—they acted with the kind of love that moves mountains (or, in this case, rebuilds them).

As someone who loves all things artistic and deeply spiritual, I can’t help but imagine Mary’s Magnificat as a masterpiece of creative expression—a song that’s part prayer, part prophecy, part rallying cry. It’s a reminder that love isn’t passive. It’s an act of resistance. It’s painting a picture of the world as it should be and daring to believe it can become reality.
 
So, this week, as we light the love candle, let’s channel Mary’s boldness. Let’s lean into love that’s messy and magnificent, love that dares to believe in a better world. Let’s embody a love that leaves glitter trails of kindness and justice wherever we go. And let’s sing—not just with our voices, but with our lives, joining Mary in her anthem of hope and transformation.

Because here’s the truth: the world needs your love. Not the quiet, watered-down version, but the wild, authentic, no-holds-barred love that reflects the God who made you. So, step into it. Let your love shine unapologetically, just as you are, and trust that God will use it to change the world.

Prayer: Holy Disruptor with Love, thank you for a love that sees us, in all our eccentricity, awkwardness, and beauty. Teach us to love boldly, to scatter light in the darkest places
and stand with those the world pushes aside. When we feel small or unsure, remind us of Mary’s courage—a young woman, fierce and faithful, who dared to sing a song of love that would change the world. May we carry that love into the spaces we inhabit— with our families, our friends, our communities. Let it shape how we show up, how we dream, and how we serve. In the name of Christ, love embodied and alive, we pray. Amen.
 
Action: Find a way to embody love this week. Invite someone you know is lonely to your Christmas gatherings and to the Christmas Eve services. Shop locally for your last-minute gifts. Keep the financial love in the mountains. Get creative and come up with some ideas for intergenerational church gatherings for 2025. Share the love of Christ in any way you can.