She was young. She was not married yet. She had a plan for how her life was supposed to go.
Her name was Mary.
She lived in Nazareth, a small town in Galilee that no one thought much of. She was engaged to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. In her world, a betrothal was as binding as marriage — the wedding simply hadn’t taken place yet. Her life was ordinary. Her future was settled.
And then an angel appeared.
“Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you” (Luke 1:28).
The text says she was very perplexed at this statement and kept pondering what kind of greeting this was (Luke 1:29). She didn’t fall down in worship. She didn’t cry out. She pondered. She was trying to make sense of something that didn’t fit inside anything she had ever known.
The angel told her not to be afraid. And then he told her something that would change everything — not just for her, but for every human being who would ever live.
“You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name Him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David; and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and His kingdom will have no end” (Luke 1:31-33).
She was not yet married. She was not yet with Joseph. And an angel was telling her she would bear a son — the Son of the Most High — whose kingdom would have no end.
Mary asked the only question that mattered: “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” (Luke 1:34).
It was not a refusal. It was not doubt. It was the honest question of a woman trying to understand something that had no human explanation. The angel answered:
“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; and for that reason the holy Child shall be called the Son of God” (Luke 1:35).
And then:
“For nothing will be impossible with God” (Luke 1:37).
Nothing will be impossible with God.
That was all she was given. No plan for how to explain this to Joseph. No guarantee that anyone would believe her. No protection from what her community would think — or do — when an unmarried girl turned up pregnant. In her culture, a betrothed woman found to be with child by someone other than her husband could be put to death. Mary knew that. She knew what this would look like. She knew what it could cost her.
And she said yes.
“Behold, the bondslave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).
May it be done to me. Not “let me think about it.” Not “let me talk to Joseph first.” Not “can you give me a sign so I can prove this to people.” May it be done to me according to your word.
The most consequential yes in human history came from a frightened young woman in a small town who trusted God with what she could not understand.
She could not see how this would work. She could not see Joseph’s dream, where an angel would tell him the truth and he would stay (Matthew 1:20-21). She could not see the manger in Bethlehem, or the shepherds, or the wise men, or the years in between. She could not see the cross. She could not see the resurrection. She could not see the billions of lives that would be transformed because she carried this child to term.
All she could see was an impossible situation and a God who asked her to trust Him.
And she said yes.
Every woman in this booklet faced a moment where the future was invisible. Hagar couldn’t see the well. Jochebed couldn’t see past the reeds. Hannah couldn’t see the prophet her son would become. Ruth couldn’t see the lineage she was stepping into. Rahab couldn’t see past the walls of a condemned city.
Mary couldn’t see any of it either. But she said yes anyway.
And the child she carried saved the world.