And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

Luke 2:18-20

A Life of Holy Attention

I have sensed a quiet grace unfolding in our midst—a call to live from God’s faithful love, rather than for it. There is an ache for relationship, not merely for keeping religious duties, but for embracing the deep and miraculous invitation to live in communion with Immanuel, God With Us. By the Father, we are invited to come and receive His wonderfully generous outpouring of love—the love that “lays siege to every soul”, according to Richard Foster. For this gentle presence of divine, holy communion, I am deeply grateful. This is the saving grace of Jesus, beckoning us closer to His heart.

Encountering God’s genuine, wholehearted, devoted love draws us to cherish the Father – our heart’s worship and exaltation a natural response to His humble entrance into a weary world longing for a Savior.

The ache for greater presence and awareness of the quiet wonders before us reminds me of Mary in the days following Jesus’ birth. From her, we receive profound wisdom for our own pursuit of contemplation and loving adoration.

In the moments after her long labor, we glimpse what it looks like for the Lord to become Mary’s sanctuary—her eternal delight and dwelling place. Though the shepherds glorified and praised God after all they had heard and seen, Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. Her attentive posture, treasuring and pondering the faithfulness of God, invites us to turn our gaze upon Him as well.

Here, we’re reminded the vitality of our faith doesn’t rest solely on gaining more knowledge of Him, but growing in our awareness of His presence in our lives.

Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time for everything. In Luke 2, we see that faithfulness takes many forms—some expressed through exuberant praise, while others come through quiet, attentive adoration. Both are sacred expressions of holy attention.

Mary echoes David’s longing in Psalm 27:

One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and to seek Him in His temple.

Her heart found satisfaction in the fulfillment of God’s faithfulness, counting all the ways He had been faithful. In the wake of labor pains and the writhing cries of a newborn, we find Mary in simple, joyful delight—resting peacefully in the promises of God. In Him, she found deep contentment – taking it all in.

Though I often perceive faithfulness as going and telling and doing, Mary reminds us that sometimes our truest faithfulness comes by opening our eyes to see what lay before us. Holy attention draws us in to the present moment, enjoying the promise that dwells in our midst already.

While the shepherds shared the good news with those around them, Mary became deeply present to God’s promises unfolding in real time. She made space to reflect on who God is, what He has done, and the hope, peace, and joy found in Him.

When was the last time you just sat in grateful enjoyment of the Lord’s nearness?

The Ache of God’s Heart

Richard Foster writes,

the heart of God is an open wound of love. He aches over our distance and preoccupation. He mourns that we do not draw near to him. He grieves that we have forgotten him. He weeps over our obsession with muchness and manyness. He longs for our presence.

And he is inviting you — and me — to come home, to come home to where we belong, to come home to that for which we were created. His arms are stretched out wide to receive us. His heart is enlarged to take us in.

For too long we have been in a far country: a country of noise and hurry and crowds, a country of climb and push and shove, a country of frustration and fear and intimidation. And he welcomes us home: home to serenity and peace and joy, home to friendship and fellowship and openness, home to intimacy and acceptance and affirmation.

Prayer, Richard Foster

God’s gazes have always been set upon us. There’s no striving needed for an abiding life in Christ. There’s no need for muchness and manyness – just an open heart ready to receive from the One who created us. To willingly draw near to Him as He draws near to us.

We long to know that God cares for us. Our intermittent hesitation to come to Him reveals our hearts’ despair thinking we have to do or say something more to gain His affections but the truth is –

He’s already for us. He’s already here. He is with us. This is why God sent His Son.

A Life of Listening

If we were only in a hurry to slow ourselves down, I wonder if we’d see how the Lord’s presence has already marked our lives. If we treasured and pondered all that’s happened in our hearts, like Mary, I wonder if we’d experience deep contentment that comes from knowing the ways God has been faithful to His promise of restoration and redemption of this dark, groaning world. If we developed an intentional, habitual life of listening, searching for the still small voice of the Spirit, seeking the Father with holy attention, I wonder if we’d find what our souls have been longing for.

I wonder if it’s not just slowness we need, but divine presence.

This is what we can learn from Mary. Through pondering and treasuring the promises and the fulfillment of God’s faithfulness, we find ourselves living richly in the Father’s love. The awareness of His presence in our hearts and lives draws us forth into a life of overwhelming peace and joy, of gladness not based on circumstance.

There, we begin to live the promised life of abundance – the freedom God’s Spirit has given us through Jesus’ death on the cross.

May we find the satisfaction our hearts desire by loving God as He longs to be loved—with attentive gratitude and genuine affection. Before God ever asks us to go and tell, He first draws us into His arms with a gentle come and see. May we accept the invitation to draw near as He draws near to us.

He has been good, if only our eyes were open to see.

Let us treasure God’s presence, pondering His faithfulness, so that we may gratefully learn to live not for His love, but from it.

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Return, O wanderer, return,
He hears thy humble sigh;
He sees thy softened spirit mourn
When no one else is nigh.

Return, O wanderer, return,
Thy Saviour bids thee live;
Come to his cross, and grateful learn
How freely he’ll forgive.

William Bengo Colher