25 March 2026
The Day God Waited for an Answer
Today means it's exactly nine months until Christmas Day, so you have about 275 shopping days until Christmas. No, actually it means something far more important than that. Today marks the moment when Christmas became possible.
The Church calls this the Annunciation of the Lord—the announcement made by the angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary that she would conceive and bear the Son of God. But this isn’t just a sweet pre-Christmas preview. This is the moment everything changed. This is the moment when eternity stepped into time—not in Bethlehem, not at the manger—but here, in Nazareth, in the hiddenness of a young woman’s life, in a conversation that could have gone another way.
And that’s the part we often forget.
We hear this Gospel so often that we start to think of it as inevitable. Of course Mary says yes. Of course this happens. Of course salvation unfolds.
But listen closely—and especially listen through the lens of the first reading from Isaiah and the second reading from Hebrews—and you begin to realize: this was not automatic. This was a moment of decision.
Isaiah gives us that famous prophecy: “The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel.” God-with-us. But in its original context, that prophecy was given as a sign to a king who didn’t trust God. A king who hedged his bets. A king who refused to ask for a sign, not out of humility, but out of fear.
And into that lack of trust, God promises a future where trust will be restored—not through a king, but through a woman.
Fast forward to the Gospel, and now the angel appears—not to a ruler, not to a priest, not to someone powerful—but to Mary. And notice the contrast: where Ahaz hesitated, Mary listens. Where Ahaz refused, Mary questions—but her question isn’t resistance, it’s openness. “How can this be?” She wants to understand, not escape.
And then we arrive at one of the most important lines in all of Scripture: “Let it be done to me according to your word.”
That line is not passive. It’s not resignation. It is an act of total trust, total surrender, total cooperation with God’s will.
Now here’s where the second reading from Hebrews gives us a unique angle—a deeper layer that we often overlook.
Hebrews places words on the lips of Christ as He enters the world: “Behold, I come to do your will, O God.”
So at the Annunciation, you actually have two “yeses” happening at once. Mary says yes. And the Son says yes. Mary consents to receive Him. And Christ consents to become one of us. This is not just the story of a willing mother—it is the story of a willing God.
And that changes how we understand everything.
Because sometimes we think of salvation as something God imposed on the world—as if He forced His way in, as if He overrode human freedom.
But the Annunciation shows us something different: God waits. He sends an angel. He speaks. He invites. And then—He waits for an answer.
The entire plan of salvation, in this moment, hangs in the balance of a young woman’s freedom. God does not bulldoze His way into humanity. He knocks. He proposes. He invites cooperation.
And Mary becomes, not just the mother of Jesus, but the model of what it means to be human in relationship with God.
Which brings us to why this feast matters so much today.
Because the Annunciation isn’t just about what happened to Mary—it reveals what God is always doing. God is always announcing. God is always inviting. God is always waiting for a response.
In your life. In my life. In the quiet moments, the inconvenient moments, the unexpected interruptions—God speaks.
And often, like Mary, we don’t get the full picture.
Mary is told she will conceive the Son of God—but she is not told about Bethlehem, or Egypt, or Nazareth, or Calvary. She is not given a roadmap. She is given a promise.
And she says yes anyway.
That’s the unique angle of this feast: it’s not just about a miraculous conception—it’s about trust without full clarity.
That’s where most of us struggle. We want the details. We want the guarantees. We want to know how it’s all going to work out.
But God rarely works that way.
Instead, He comes to us with an invitation: Will you trust me? Will you let me work in your life? Will you say yes—even when you don’t see the whole path?
And here’s the beautiful part: when Mary says yes, Christ enters the world quietly, hidden, unnoticed. No crowds. No miracles—yet. No fanfare. Just a hidden beginning.
Which means this: the most important things God does often begin in hiddenness.
In a conversation. In a decision. In a quiet act of surrender.
So today isn’t just about looking back nine months before Christmas. It’s about recognizing that God is still speaking—and still waiting.
The question is not whether God has a plan. The question is whether we will say yes to it.
Because the Annunciation didn’t just change Mary’s life. It changed the world.
And God, in His mercy, continues to work that way—through ordinary people, in ordinary moments, with extraordinary consequences.
All because one woman said: Let it be done to me according to your word.
Today means it's exactly nine months until Christmas Day, so you have about 275 shopping days until Christmas. No, actually it means something far more important than that. Today marks the moment when Christmas became possible.
The Church calls this the Annunciation of the Lord—the announcement made by the angel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary that she would conceive and bear the Son of God. But this isn’t just a sweet pre-Christmas preview. This is the moment everything changed. This is the moment when eternity stepped into time—not in Bethlehem, not at the manger—but here, in Nazareth, in the hiddenness of a young woman’s life, in a conversation that could have gone another way.
And that’s the part we often forget.
We hear this Gospel so often that we start to think of it as inevitable. Of course Mary says yes. Of course this happens. Of course salvation unfolds.
But listen closely—and especially listen through the lens of the first reading from Isaiah and the second reading from Hebrews—and you begin to realize: this was not automatic. This was a moment of decision.
Isaiah gives us that famous prophecy: “The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel.” God-with-us. But in its original context, that prophecy was given as a sign to a king who didn’t trust God. A king who hedged his bets. A king who refused to ask for a sign, not out of humility, but out of fear.
And into that lack of trust, God promises a future where trust will be restored—not through a king, but through a woman.
Fast forward to the Gospel, and now the angel appears—not to a ruler, not to a priest, not to someone powerful—but to Mary. And notice the contrast: where Ahaz hesitated, Mary listens. Where Ahaz refused, Mary questions—but her question isn’t resistance, it’s openness. “How can this be?” She wants to understand, not escape.
And then we arrive at one of the most important lines in all of Scripture: “Let it be done to me according to your word.”
That line is not passive. It’s not resignation. It is an act of total trust, total surrender, total cooperation with God’s will.
Now here’s where the second reading from Hebrews gives us a unique angle—a deeper layer that we often overlook.
Hebrews places words on the lips of Christ as He enters the world: “Behold, I come to do your will, O God.”
So at the Annunciation, you actually have two “yeses” happening at once. Mary says yes. And the Son says yes. Mary consents to receive Him. And Christ consents to become one of us. This is not just the story of a willing mother—it is the story of a willing God.
And that changes how we understand everything.
Because sometimes we think of salvation as something God imposed on the world—as if He forced His way in, as if He overrode human freedom.
But the Annunciation shows us something different: God waits. He sends an angel. He speaks. He invites. And then—He waits for an answer.
The entire plan of salvation, in this moment, hangs in the balance of a young woman’s freedom. God does not bulldoze His way into humanity. He knocks. He proposes. He invites cooperation.
And Mary becomes, not just the mother of Jesus, but the model of what it means to be human in relationship with God.
Which brings us to why this feast matters so much today.
Because the Annunciation isn’t just about what happened to Mary—it reveals what God is always doing. God is always announcing. God is always inviting. God is always waiting for a response.
In your life. In my life. In the quiet moments, the inconvenient moments, the unexpected interruptions—God speaks.
And often, like Mary, we don’t get the full picture.
Mary is told she will conceive the Son of God—but she is not told about Bethlehem, or Egypt, or Nazareth, or Calvary. She is not given a roadmap. She is given a promise.
And she says yes anyway.
That’s the unique angle of this feast: it’s not just about a miraculous conception—it’s about trust without full clarity.
That’s where most of us struggle. We want the details. We want the guarantees. We want to know how it’s all going to work out.
But God rarely works that way.
Instead, He comes to us with an invitation: Will you trust me? Will you let me work in your life? Will you say yes—even when you don’t see the whole path?
And here’s the beautiful part: when Mary says yes, Christ enters the world quietly, hidden, unnoticed. No crowds. No miracles—yet. No fanfare. Just a hidden beginning.
Which means this: the most important things God does often begin in hiddenness.
In a conversation. In a decision. In a quiet act of surrender.
So today isn’t just about looking back nine months before Christmas. It’s about recognizing that God is still speaking—and still waiting.
The question is not whether God has a plan. The question is whether we will say yes to it.
Because the Annunciation didn’t just change Mary’s life. It changed the world.
And God, in His mercy, continues to work that way—through ordinary people, in ordinary moments, with extraordinary consequences.
All because one woman said: Let it be done to me according to your word.