Mary’s Song | The Promise Made Flesh
The hills of Judea rejoiced when Mary began to sing. Were her feet swollen, still dusty and dry from the long walk south as new life swelled within her? She was young—too young, perhaps, for the weight she now carried.
This reflection is part 2 of “A Messianic Advent,” a series exploring the first songs of the Messiah’s coming through the songs and words of those who waited — and still wait — for Israel’s redemption.
Luke 1:46–55
The Promise Made Flesh
“My soul magnifies the Lord.”
The hills of Judea rejoiced when Mary began to sing. Were her feet swollen, still dusty and dry from the long walk south as new life swelled within her? She was young—too young, perhaps, for the weight she now carried. Yet the words rose from something older than she was, older even than the language she spoke.
For centuries, Israel had waited. No prophets. No new word from heaven. Just the echo of promises spoken to the mothers and fathers who had long since turned to dust. And now—here in the body of a young, Jewish woman—the silence broke.
The Spirit that once hovered over the waters now hovered over her. The same glory that filled the tabernacle had entered a humble womb. When Gabriel said, “The Spirit of the Most High will overshadow you,” Mary did not hesitate to believe the impossible. And when that promise caused the baby inside her cousin Elizabeth to leap for joy, Mary’s young soul could not stay still either.
“My soul magnifies the Lord.” The word magnify means to make great—to see God as he truly is. Her faith gave her sight. Mary saw what few had ever dared to imagine: that the Holy One of Israel had stooped low to lift his people up.
Her song was the anthem of a people who had waited four hundred years for heaven’s silence to break.
Why Sing, Mary?
If we were to ask her why she sang, Mary might laugh—singing is what her people do. And she already knew the melody, drawn from the marrow of her people’s memory.
For generations, Israel had sung the psalms of exile and return, of longing and lament. Mary’s song was the voice of Israel remembering who she was.
Try as our individualistic culture might to make Mary’s song a private reflection, she did not sing for herself. She sang for her ancestors—for the barren and the broken, for the downtrodden and oppressed, for every woman who stood in the face of evil to protect the promised seed and not yet seen its fulfillment. It wove together Hannah’s prayer, Miriam’s victory, Deborah’s triumph, Eve’s ancient hope, and the psalms of David into one unbroken chorus—a song older than Mary’s own bones, and larger than her own joy.
This was not a new song. It was the continuation of the oldest one, the story of God remembering his mercy and his covenant, and of a young woman surprised to find herself standing at its very center.
That day in Elizabeth’s home, her voice joined the chorus of generations who had waited for the God of Israel to move again—and now, at last, he had.
The Promise Alive
“He has helped His servant Israel, remembering to be merciful…
He has brought down rulers from their thrones but lifted up the humble.”
It’s almost impossible to read these verses without feeling the weight of the entire Hebrew Bible pressing into Mary’s body. The child she carried was the embodiment of every promise ever made to Israel. The holy covenant once written on stone was pulsing with life beneath her ribs. The Messiah was Israel’s son before he was Mary’s.
He would redeem the nations, yes—but only as the outworking of his faithfulness to Abraham’s family. Salvation flows outward through the covenant, not around it. Inside her, God’s oath to her people was coming alive in flesh and blood.
“He has brought down rulers from their thrones but lifted up the humble.”
God chose shepherds over kings—
the outcast over the powerful,
the disregarded over the revered—
those the world had written off or learned to dominate.
God was turning the world right-side up in the most impossible way.
Mary knew it. She knew that every kingdom built on oppression, every throne secured by violence or pride, would one day crumble before the reign of her child.
Every throne of man will one day bow before a Jew.
And so, the Magnificat is no lullaby—its a battle hymn of the lowly made triumphant.
The king had entered the world through the covenant of Israel’s womb.
Advent Reflection | Joining the Song
The story of Israel has always been about restoration. Every law, every festival, every sacrifice embodies the same hope—that God will draw near, cleanse his land, exalt Israel, bless the nations, and dwell with his people forever.
Mary’s song declares that this hope is no longer deferred. The long exile of sin and sorrow is ending. She sang because in her body, Israel’s story was reaching another mountain peak:
The promise to Abraham became tangible.
The throne of David received its heir.
The dwelling of God moved from tent to temple to flesh.
The popular Christmas song Mary Did you Know is answered by her own song with a resounding and unapologetic yes! The covenant she hoped in, the promises she knew all about, became incarnate. And this is how heaven always seem to come—unexpectedly, but faithfully, and through the obedience of the ordinary people who trust in the promises of God.
Christmas exalts global joy—peace on earth, goodwill to all. But if we linger a moment with Mary, we may find the heart of the gospel waiting there: through this family, we too have found God’s life and blessing.
Mary was blessed not simply because she bore the Messiah, but because she believed in the promises to her people. Advent invites us into that same faith: to sing long before any sign of the promise is fulfilled.
Christmas celebrates the truth that God’s mercy is not abstract but ancestral—it has a lineage, a story, a name, and a song. A song Mary already knew, passed down from the blessed women who had sung it for generations.
This December, let us learn her song again.
May we carry her faith on the other side of its moment—
waiting for the day when the son she bore will return to finish what he began:
to restore Israel, exalt the humble,
and fill the world with the knowledge of his glory.
He who is mighty has done great things,
and holy is his name.
This reflection is part of “A Messianic Advent,” a five-part series tracing the songs and voices surrounding the Messiah’s birth. Up next: Simeon’s Blessing | The Consolation of Israel.