No room

Heavy with child as Joseph led her into the town of Bethlehem, Mary knew she was purposed to bring the Messiah into the world. She knew that God had called her, gifted and prepared her for this.

I wonder what she must have thought though when she and Joseph knocked on the innkeeper's door and he told them there was no room for them there in the inn. Did she doubt her purpose? Question the goodness of God? Surely, this ordinary girl must have wondered at least for a moment what God was thinking.

To anyone else, I'm sure the connection will seem loose, but I feel a connection to this moment in Mary's life and I can't help but wonder what must have gone through her mind.

I am not carrying an unborn baby, and certainly not comparing my life to the girl chosen to bring forth the very Son of God, but I do feel pregnant, heavy with ministry waiting to be birthed.

Like Mary, I feel like I've journeyed for such a long time. Travel has been long and hard. There have been moments, in the beginning when God showed me the gift He'd given me and I was certain the purpose was His. And early on, when the Holy Spirit would bring encouragement and confirmation like He did for Mary-- when the Angel spoke to Joseph, or when John the Baptist leapt in Elizabeth's womb. "Surely," Elizabeth testified to confirm again Mary's call.

I imagine Mary traveling though, many days, uncomfortable, heavy-- even knowing her purpose, she must have grown tired. I remember being physically pregnant too, impatient at the end for the baby just to come, to see the face of my child. How much more must Mary have wanted to see the very face of God. Surely as she felt the time of labor upon her, ready to deliver, there must have been a strong response in her as the innkeeper told her there was no room.

That's the way I feel. I feel like I am standing at the door, confident of the gift, relatively certain of the call, but I've arrived at a place where there is no room, and I just don't understand.

In a way I envy Mary because the birth process for her could not be put off forever. Her own body would force the issue and birth would take place for sure, and it did. Probably not where or how she imagined, but she at least got to see the face of God. Fruition came.

I fear I will remain pregnant forever, never birthing the ministry I felt so certain God had placed in my heart. Never using the gifts I was so certain I'd been given by Him. Not even a stable to settle into to bring forth the life.

Instead I remain heavy, waiting, wondering why there is no place for me, no room for my gifts.

Guilty in my doubts and questions.

Aching with the heavy desire to use my gifts, afraid they have died dormant inside me for too long. Dreading that the only birth ahead is a stillbirth, and that I will find myself grieving alone.

I see people using their gifts and talents, serving God in and with their passions and I'm overwhelmed with envy. I wonder why it isn't so for me.

Why do I stay stuck in my wandering? I've not wandered from God. I've tried to lay down the wants at His altar, asked Him to take them, but He refuses. Pregnant I remain.

And then I battle...

envy...

anger...

discouragement...

hopelessness...

I fight...

bitterness...

flight...

futility...

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick..."