In the Hill Country

"In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah, and she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!" (Luke 1:39-42, ESV)

Transcript

For six years Deb and I lived in Houston, Texas, one of the largest cities in North America. It can take an hour and a half – more in rush hour – to drive from one side of the city to the other. It boasts one of the largest medical centers in the world, with close to 10,000 beds and 120,000 employees. Many of the world’s largest companies are headquartered there, including ExxonMobil, Sysco, ConocoPhilips, and HewlettPackard. 

Houston is also very, very flat. It is so flat that from the top of some of its interstate interchanges you can see from one side of the city to the other. It’s also built at sea level, so it’s hot and humid in addition to being flat. A friend of mine once joked about Winnipeg that it was a nice place to live, but you wouldn’t want to visit there. Houston is sort of like that too.

Deb and I were not huge fans of Houston when we first moved there. There was lots of great shopping and restaurants and money, lots of money. But there is a reason why the word in French for “flat” is also the word for “boring.” And the other cities in Texas were sort of the same. Dallas – Fort Worth is known for its size and wealth, not for its beauty. Austin is the state capital, but it’s also quite weird. We wondered why everyone sang the praises of Texas when all the places where the people lived weren’t so great. 

Then we took some advice and travelled out of Houston. We went to a town called Fredericksburg, settled by Germans. It was surrounded by vineyards and wineries. It was quiet, unlike the giant cities like Houston and Dallas. And it was not flat at all. In fact, Texans called the area “the hill country.” Every time I hear about Mary going to visit her relative Elizabeth “in the hill country” I think about Texas. 

I don’t just think about how beautiful the hill country can be. I also think about what the hill country represents. It was not the area where all the companies were headquartered. It was not the capital of the state of Texas, a state with almost as many people as Canada. It was not the wealthiest or most well-known place. But it was quiet, and it was beautiful, and one of the nicest spots we visited. 

The places mentioned in the first two chapters of Luke’s Gospel are all, in some ways, in the hill country. None of them were centers of power or prestige. If you were in Judah, and wanted to be somebody, you wanted to be in Jerusalem. That was the capital of the Roman province and long before that, the capital of the country and the house of David. If you travelled north to the Galilee, the centers of power were Tiberias and Sepphoris. The centers of knowledge and culture were Athens in Greece and Alexandria in Egypt. And of course, the center of the political universe was Rome itself. 

In the Gospels, however, Jerusalem is mentioned, but with mixed feelings. Jesus grieves over it and calls it “the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!” (Matthew 23:37). Tiberias is mentioned once in John’s Gospel, and Sepphoris is not mentioned at all. 

What towns play prominently? Bethlehem, of course, a tiny suburb of Jerusalem. Nazareth, a tiny village on the outskirts of Sepphoris. Capernaum, a small village across the Sea of Galilee from Tiberias. And in today’s reading, a nameless town in Judah that happens to be “in the hill country.”

In whom is the Lord God of the universe working, pray tell, out in the hill country? In kings at court? In the Emperor’s legions? Amongst the great and mighty men of the world? Not at all. The Lord is working in two pregnant women. One too old to be pregnant, the other too unmarried to be pregnant. These two women greet each other with joy, out in the hill country.

And not just these two women, but two unborn baby boys. John leaps in his mother’s womb at the coming of Jesus in Mary’s womb. Two unborn babies – fetuses, if you use our society’s term – and their two mothers – are the center of the Lord’s saving work at that moment. Out in the hill country of Judea.

This is not unusual. This is precisely how the Lord works. Abraham was called out of Chaldea to go to the hill country. Moses only met the Lord at the burning bush in the hill country of Sinai. Before David became king he tended his father’s sheep on the hills outside Bethlehem. The Lord does not come where we think power comes. He comes where he wants to, when he wants to. He comes to two women, two babies in the hill country. And he comes to you now in his Word.

He speaks to you through the prophets, evangelists and apostles. “But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are too little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days.” “By [the Lord’s] will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.” “His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; he has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away.” 

If you are looking for a saving, merciful, gracious, Satan-destroying, death-eliminating, sin-forgiving Lord in Rome or Sepphoris or Tiberias or Jerusalem, you will miss him. If you are looking for him in the House of Commons, in the National Assembly, Buckingham Palace or the White House, you’ll not find him there. You and I must leave human power behind. And seek the Lord – in the hill country. Amen.