Advent 4.5

From just the right angle, and when the front tree has shaken off its leaves, I can see the southern end of the Bridger mountain range from the living room window. This evening, the snow-streaked peaks have a rosy hue, borrowed from the sun that sets on the other side of the Gallatin Valley. I am sitting on the corner of the couch that gives me this view, taking it in, wondering what stories those moutains hold, what glories the reflected sun has wrought on them during days and years and centuries I have not been around to witness.

I am thinking about the promise made to David (a humble shepherd plucked from the fields to become a king), recorded in this week's Old Testament reading and alluded to in the angel's words to Mary (a humble peasant woman plucked from the masses to become the mother of God): a kingdom, forever. This promise is a huge one. Looking out over the mountains, even, tall and solid and glowing, I have a hard time imagining "forever."

But then, the angel says to Mary, God keeps promises. God keeps the promise for an eternal kingdom, the promise that a virgin will conceive, the promise that dear elderly Elizabeth will bear a precious child of her own. "No word from God will ever fail."