A Sermon for Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church
22nd December 2024
Luke 1.26-38, 46-55
1 Samuel 2.1-10
In case you hadn’t noticed, Christmas is nearly upon us!
Even in the most tardy of festive households,
the tree has been decorated by now;
Our carol services are over,
and the final Christmas countdown has well and truly begun.
For many of us, particularly for the younger members of our families,
the anticipation is almost too much to bear.
We can’t wait for Christmas Day, for the celebrations,
the family gatherings, and the joy of marking Christ’s birth.
And yet, the church calendar tells us something else.
We are still in Advent—still in the season of waiting.
Advent is a time that resists the rush to the celebrations of Christmas.
It asks us to pause, to reflect, and to sit with the tension of waiting.
It reminds us that the story of salvation didn’t arrive
fully formed in a single moment,
but rather unfolded in God’s time.
But waiting isn’t easy,
especially when our culture urges us to move faster and faster.
Yet Advent invites us to embrace the waiting as holy time
—a time to prepare our hearts, to listen for God’s call,
and to watch for signs of God’s work in the world.
As we look to Mary and Hannah today,
we find two women who knew what it meant to wait.
And their stories remind us that waiting is not passive,
but active and hopeful.
It is a time to trust in God’s promises,
to prepare for the new things God is doing,
and to live in the light of the hope that Christ brings.
So, even as the world rushes towards Christmas,
let us take a moment today
to pause and wait with Mary and Hannah,
allowing their faith to guide us in this season of expectation.
Hannah’s prayer from the pages of the Hebrew Bible
is clearly echoed in the themes of Mary’s Magnificat.
And through the words of their songs, their poetry, their prayerful utternaces,
we encounter two women, two ordinary individuals
whose lives were dramatically shaped by God’s intervention.
Hannah’s longing for a child and her joyous thanksgiving
resonate with Mary’s story of unexpected motherhood.
Together, they invite us to reflect on the challenges and hopes
that accompany a life shaped by faith.
But Mary and Hannah’s stories are not fairy tales of easy triumph.
They are accounts of real human struggle, resilience, and trust in God.
Mary’s Magnificat and Hannah’s prayer sing of a world turned upside down
—a vision of justice and liberation
that begins not in the halls of power
but in the lives of the humble and the vulnerable.
And their faith inspires us to wait with hope,
even in times of uncertainty.
From religious icons to school nativity plays,
the image of Mary is universally familiar.
She is revered in Christianity and Islam
and often portrayed as serene and holy.
Yet Luke’s Gospel invites us to meet Mary as she truly was
—a young, poor, Jewish girl
whose life was upended by God’s extraordinary call.
Likewise, Hannah’s prayer of exaltation
comes after years of sorrow and struggle,
showing us that God’s transformative work
often begins in the most unexpected places.
Mary lived under the shadow of Roman occupation,
an era marked by oppression and uncertainty.
Like millions of young women today
—from Palestinian refugees awaiting justice
to teenagers in conflict zones like Sudan—
Mary’s story begins in a context of instability and vulnerability.
She was an ordinary girl facing extraordinary circumstances.
And yet, God chose her to bear the Messiah,
showing that divine action often arises in the least expected places.
Hannah’s context was similarly challenging.
As a childless woman in ancient Israel,
she faced societal shame and personal anguish.
Her prayer in the temple reflects her deep pain and longing.
Yet, when God answered her prayer,
she responded not with possessiveness
but with gratitude and dedication,
offering her son Samuel back to God.
Both women’s stories remind us
that God’s promises often emerge
from human vulnerability and struggle.
As we gather on the cusp of 2025,
the cry of the Magnificat still resounds
in the protests against injustice and inequality in our time.
From the cost-of-living crisis in the UK
to the global outcry for climate justice,
the themes of Mary’s song feel as urgent as ever.
“He has brought down the powerful… and lifted up the lowly.”
This is not just an ancient hope; it is a call to action.
Similarly, Hannah’s prayer proclaims God’s justice
in lifting the needy from the ash heap
and breaking the bows of the mighty.
Their songs challenge us to look at our world and ask:
where do we see the hungry being filled,
and where do we see the proud being brought low?
Both women’s contexts also speak
to our shared human experience of waiting.
Hannah waited through years of heartbreak
before God’s promise was fulfilled in her life,
while Mary faced the long, uncertain journey
of raising the Messiah.
Waiting on God’s promises is a thread that connects us to their stories
and invites us to trust in God’s faithfulness
even when the path ahead seems unclear.
But when the angel greeted Mary,
her response was not instant jubilation.
She was “perplexed” and deeply troubled.
Her fears were real—pregnancy out of wedlock in her culture
carried severe risks.
She faced the prospect of rejection by Joseph,
condemnation by her community,
and the practical difficulties of raising a child in poverty.
Yet Mary’s response,
“Let it be with me according to your word,”
demonstrates her openness to radical trust in God.
Hannah’s story similarly reflects this dynamic of fear and faith.
For years she endured the pain of childlessness,
a condition that brought her exclusion and shame.
Yet her heartfelt prayer at the temple
demonstrates her unwavering trust in God.
When her prayer was answered,
she responded not with possessiveness but with gratitude,
dedicating her son Samuel to God’s service.
Both women show us that courage is not the absence of fear
but the willingness to trust in God’s faithfulness.
Their stories invite us to reflect on our own fears and uncertainties.
Have we ever faced a moment when God’s call seemed overwhelming?
Have we struggled to trust in God’s plans for our lives?
Like Mary and Hannah, we are invited to respond with faith,
even when the path ahead is unclear.
Their story reminds us that God often calls us to step into the unknown,
trusting that we are part of something far greater than ourselves.
And Advent reminds us that such faith often involves waiting.
Mary’s journey was not a quick triumph.
She waited for her child to grow, watched him face rejection,
and stood by the cross as he was crucified.
Her life teaches us that God’s promises
are fulfilled in God’s time, not ours.
Hannah also knew the pain of waiting.
Her years of longing for a child seemed endless,
and yet she continued to trust in God.
When her prayer was answered,
it was not just a personal victory
but a moment that contributed to the larger story of God’s work in Israel.
Today, we wait for justice:
for an end to the war in Ukraine,
for meaningful climate action,
for systemic change to address wealth inequality.
And can we, like Mary and Hannah, learn to wait in hope,
trusting that the God who began a good work
will bring it to completion?
Such waiting is not passive, of course.
Like Mary, we prepare our hearts and our communities for God’s action.
This may involve advocacy, prayer, or acts of service,
but it also involves a deep trust
that God is at work in ways we cannot understand.
How might we, in our waiting,
cultivate the kind of faith that sustains us through uncertainty
and allows us to hold on to hope?
How might we see our periods of waiting
as opportunities to grow in trust,
rather than simply as obstacles to be endured?
The story of Mary’s miraculous pregnancy
reminds us that salvation, however it comes to us,
is always God’s initiative.
In our culture of achievement, where value is so often tied to productivity,
Mary’s story subverts this narrative.
It is not our efforts that bring God’s kingdom to birth in the world,
but God’s gracious action.
Similarly, Hannah’s story also highlights God’s initiative.
Despite her deep longing for a child,
it was ultimately God who acted in God’s time,
transforming her sorrow into joy.
This does not mean passivity, for Mary, Hannah, or us...
Instead, it calls us to align ourselves with God’s purposes.
Like Mary and Hannah, we say, “Here am I,”
ready to participate in the unfolding of God’s justice and peace.
Our part is to trust and to act in response to God’s initiative.
Think of the ways in which these stories
remind us of our dependence on God
—not as a crutch but as a source of strength.
How might we reframe our own efforts,
seeing them not as attempts to earn God’s favour
but as responses to God’s call?
When we trust that God is the one who initiates and sustains,
we can find freedom from the pressures
of perfectionism and self-reliance.
The songs of Mary and Hannah resonate across the millennia,
not merely as words on a page
but as melodies that echo
through the lives of those who hear them.
Music has a unique power to embed truths within us.
When set to rhythm and melody, words become more than speech
—they sing their way into our souls,
shaping the way we think, act, and believe.
Hannah’s prayer and Mary’s Magnificat
are not just declarations of faith;
they are acts of creation,
singing the reality of God’s justice into being.
Through their music, these women gave voice
to the transformative work of God,
a work that continues to resonate in the lives of the faithful today.
Their songs are not static relics of the past.
They are living, breathing invitations for us to join in their melody
—to allow their faith to write itself into our lives,
so that our actions, words, and hopes
begin to echo their trust in God.
When we sing their songs,
we are reminded that faith is not confined to moments of worship.
It carries into every part of our lives,
giving shape to the prayers we pray, the actions we take,
and the hopes we nurture.
Their music lingers in time,
reminding us that the rhythm of God’s justice
is one that calls us to dance, to act,
and to sing in harmony with God’s purposes.
The hymns and songs we sing in church
do more than lift our spirits;
rather they root us in a tradition
that proclaims hope, justice, and love.
They challenge us to live lives
that embody the truths we sing.
As Mary’s Magnificat and Hannah’s prayer
have sung themselves into being through centuries of faithful living,
so too are we invited to continue the song
—to let its melody inspire the way we speak, serve, and hope.
How might we allow the songs of faith to echo in our lives?
How might the melodies of Hannah and Mary inspire us
to create harmonies of justice and hope in the world today?
Through their voices, may we find courage to sing our own songs of faith,
carrying their truths forward into the world.
So, as we wait with Mary and Hannah this Advent,
let us embrace their faith and courage.
Like Hannah, who trusted God through years of longing,
and like Mary, who responded to God’s call
with a resounding “Yes,”
we too are invited to trust in God’s promises.
Their stories remind us that God’s work
often begins in moments of human vulnerability
and grows into something transformative.
As Mary sang:
My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour.
So may we be bearers of God’s justice, peace, and love,
trusting that the God who called Mary and Hannah calls us too,
to be part of the salvation of the world.
Amen.
1 Samuel 2.1-10
In case you hadn’t noticed, Christmas is nearly upon us!
Even in the most tardy of festive households,
the tree has been decorated by now;
Our carol services are over,
and the final Christmas countdown has well and truly begun.
For many of us, particularly for the younger members of our families,
the anticipation is almost too much to bear.
We can’t wait for Christmas Day, for the celebrations,
the family gatherings, and the joy of marking Christ’s birth.
And yet, the church calendar tells us something else.
We are still in Advent—still in the season of waiting.
Advent is a time that resists the rush to the celebrations of Christmas.
It asks us to pause, to reflect, and to sit with the tension of waiting.
It reminds us that the story of salvation didn’t arrive
fully formed in a single moment,
but rather unfolded in God’s time.
But waiting isn’t easy,
especially when our culture urges us to move faster and faster.
Yet Advent invites us to embrace the waiting as holy time
—a time to prepare our hearts, to listen for God’s call,
and to watch for signs of God’s work in the world.
As we look to Mary and Hannah today,
we find two women who knew what it meant to wait.
And their stories remind us that waiting is not passive,
but active and hopeful.
It is a time to trust in God’s promises,
to prepare for the new things God is doing,
and to live in the light of the hope that Christ brings.
So, even as the world rushes towards Christmas,
let us take a moment today
to pause and wait with Mary and Hannah,
allowing their faith to guide us in this season of expectation.
Hannah’s prayer from the pages of the Hebrew Bible
is clearly echoed in the themes of Mary’s Magnificat.
And through the words of their songs, their poetry, their prayerful utternaces,
we encounter two women, two ordinary individuals
whose lives were dramatically shaped by God’s intervention.
Hannah’s longing for a child and her joyous thanksgiving
resonate with Mary’s story of unexpected motherhood.
Together, they invite us to reflect on the challenges and hopes
that accompany a life shaped by faith.
But Mary and Hannah’s stories are not fairy tales of easy triumph.
They are accounts of real human struggle, resilience, and trust in God.
Mary’s Magnificat and Hannah’s prayer sing of a world turned upside down
—a vision of justice and liberation
that begins not in the halls of power
but in the lives of the humble and the vulnerable.
And their faith inspires us to wait with hope,
even in times of uncertainty.
From religious icons to school nativity plays,
the image of Mary is universally familiar.
She is revered in Christianity and Islam
and often portrayed as serene and holy.
Yet Luke’s Gospel invites us to meet Mary as she truly was
—a young, poor, Jewish girl
whose life was upended by God’s extraordinary call.
Likewise, Hannah’s prayer of exaltation
comes after years of sorrow and struggle,
showing us that God’s transformative work
often begins in the most unexpected places.
Mary lived under the shadow of Roman occupation,
an era marked by oppression and uncertainty.
Like millions of young women today
—from Palestinian refugees awaiting justice
to teenagers in conflict zones like Sudan—
Mary’s story begins in a context of instability and vulnerability.
She was an ordinary girl facing extraordinary circumstances.
And yet, God chose her to bear the Messiah,
showing that divine action often arises in the least expected places.
Hannah’s context was similarly challenging.
As a childless woman in ancient Israel,
she faced societal shame and personal anguish.
Her prayer in the temple reflects her deep pain and longing.
Yet, when God answered her prayer,
she responded not with possessiveness
but with gratitude and dedication,
offering her son Samuel back to God.
Both women’s stories remind us
that God’s promises often emerge
from human vulnerability and struggle.
As we gather on the cusp of 2025,
the cry of the Magnificat still resounds
in the protests against injustice and inequality in our time.
From the cost-of-living crisis in the UK
to the global outcry for climate justice,
the themes of Mary’s song feel as urgent as ever.
“He has brought down the powerful… and lifted up the lowly.”
This is not just an ancient hope; it is a call to action.
Similarly, Hannah’s prayer proclaims God’s justice
in lifting the needy from the ash heap
and breaking the bows of the mighty.
Their songs challenge us to look at our world and ask:
where do we see the hungry being filled,
and where do we see the proud being brought low?
Both women’s contexts also speak
to our shared human experience of waiting.
Hannah waited through years of heartbreak
before God’s promise was fulfilled in her life,
while Mary faced the long, uncertain journey
of raising the Messiah.
Waiting on God’s promises is a thread that connects us to their stories
and invites us to trust in God’s faithfulness
even when the path ahead seems unclear.
But when the angel greeted Mary,
her response was not instant jubilation.
She was “perplexed” and deeply troubled.
Her fears were real—pregnancy out of wedlock in her culture
carried severe risks.
She faced the prospect of rejection by Joseph,
condemnation by her community,
and the practical difficulties of raising a child in poverty.
Yet Mary’s response,
“Let it be with me according to your word,”
demonstrates her openness to radical trust in God.
Hannah’s story similarly reflects this dynamic of fear and faith.
For years she endured the pain of childlessness,
a condition that brought her exclusion and shame.
Yet her heartfelt prayer at the temple
demonstrates her unwavering trust in God.
When her prayer was answered,
she responded not with possessiveness but with gratitude,
dedicating her son Samuel to God’s service.
Both women show us that courage is not the absence of fear
but the willingness to trust in God’s faithfulness.
Their stories invite us to reflect on our own fears and uncertainties.
Have we ever faced a moment when God’s call seemed overwhelming?
Have we struggled to trust in God’s plans for our lives?
Like Mary and Hannah, we are invited to respond with faith,
even when the path ahead is unclear.
Their story reminds us that God often calls us to step into the unknown,
trusting that we are part of something far greater than ourselves.
And Advent reminds us that such faith often involves waiting.
Mary’s journey was not a quick triumph.
She waited for her child to grow, watched him face rejection,
and stood by the cross as he was crucified.
Her life teaches us that God’s promises
are fulfilled in God’s time, not ours.
Hannah also knew the pain of waiting.
Her years of longing for a child seemed endless,
and yet she continued to trust in God.
When her prayer was answered,
it was not just a personal victory
but a moment that contributed to the larger story of God’s work in Israel.
Today, we wait for justice:
for an end to the war in Ukraine,
for meaningful climate action,
for systemic change to address wealth inequality.
And can we, like Mary and Hannah, learn to wait in hope,
trusting that the God who began a good work
will bring it to completion?
Such waiting is not passive, of course.
Like Mary, we prepare our hearts and our communities for God’s action.
This may involve advocacy, prayer, or acts of service,
but it also involves a deep trust
that God is at work in ways we cannot understand.
How might we, in our waiting,
cultivate the kind of faith that sustains us through uncertainty
and allows us to hold on to hope?
How might we see our periods of waiting
as opportunities to grow in trust,
rather than simply as obstacles to be endured?
The story of Mary’s miraculous pregnancy
reminds us that salvation, however it comes to us,
is always God’s initiative.
In our culture of achievement, where value is so often tied to productivity,
Mary’s story subverts this narrative.
It is not our efforts that bring God’s kingdom to birth in the world,
but God’s gracious action.
Similarly, Hannah’s story also highlights God’s initiative.
Despite her deep longing for a child,
it was ultimately God who acted in God’s time,
transforming her sorrow into joy.
This does not mean passivity, for Mary, Hannah, or us...
Instead, it calls us to align ourselves with God’s purposes.
Like Mary and Hannah, we say, “Here am I,”
ready to participate in the unfolding of God’s justice and peace.
Our part is to trust and to act in response to God’s initiative.
Think of the ways in which these stories
remind us of our dependence on God
—not as a crutch but as a source of strength.
How might we reframe our own efforts,
seeing them not as attempts to earn God’s favour
but as responses to God’s call?
When we trust that God is the one who initiates and sustains,
we can find freedom from the pressures
of perfectionism and self-reliance.
The songs of Mary and Hannah resonate across the millennia,
not merely as words on a page
but as melodies that echo
through the lives of those who hear them.
Music has a unique power to embed truths within us.
When set to rhythm and melody, words become more than speech
—they sing their way into our souls,
shaping the way we think, act, and believe.
Hannah’s prayer and Mary’s Magnificat
are not just declarations of faith;
they are acts of creation,
singing the reality of God’s justice into being.
Through their music, these women gave voice
to the transformative work of God,
a work that continues to resonate in the lives of the faithful today.
Their songs are not static relics of the past.
They are living, breathing invitations for us to join in their melody
—to allow their faith to write itself into our lives,
so that our actions, words, and hopes
begin to echo their trust in God.
When we sing their songs,
we are reminded that faith is not confined to moments of worship.
It carries into every part of our lives,
giving shape to the prayers we pray, the actions we take,
and the hopes we nurture.
Their music lingers in time,
reminding us that the rhythm of God’s justice
is one that calls us to dance, to act,
and to sing in harmony with God’s purposes.
The hymns and songs we sing in church
do more than lift our spirits;
rather they root us in a tradition
that proclaims hope, justice, and love.
They challenge us to live lives
that embody the truths we sing.
As Mary’s Magnificat and Hannah’s prayer
have sung themselves into being through centuries of faithful living,
so too are we invited to continue the song
—to let its melody inspire the way we speak, serve, and hope.
How might we allow the songs of faith to echo in our lives?
How might the melodies of Hannah and Mary inspire us
to create harmonies of justice and hope in the world today?
Through their voices, may we find courage to sing our own songs of faith,
carrying their truths forward into the world.
So, as we wait with Mary and Hannah this Advent,
let us embrace their faith and courage.
Like Hannah, who trusted God through years of longing,
and like Mary, who responded to God’s call
with a resounding “Yes,”
we too are invited to trust in God’s promises.
Their stories remind us that God’s work
often begins in moments of human vulnerability
and grows into something transformative.
As Mary sang:
My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour.
So may we be bearers of God’s justice, peace, and love,
trusting that the God who called Mary and Hannah calls us too,
to be part of the salvation of the world.
Amen.
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