Print Details:

• Museum-quality posters made on thick, durable, matte paper.

• Paper is archival and acid-free.

• Unframed prints arrive rolled up in a protective tube.

Frame Details:

• Alder, Semi-hardwood frame

• Black in color

• .75” thick

• Acrylite front protector

• Lightweight

• Hanging hardware included

• Made in the USA

From the Artist:

“She was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.” (Luke 1:29) I’m certain I would have had the same reaction to being called “favored one” by God’s messenger. At an early age, I learned that because I am human, I am sinful, and by my very existence, I am unsuitable to be in God’s presence. Without Jesus to intercede on my behalf, my unworthiness was untenable to God. Needless to say, this was not good for my self-esteem or self-image, and though I have done a lot of work to untangle these lessons from my expanding theology, there is a lot of lingering self-doubt—bordering on self-hatred—that I have yet to root out.

God chooses Mary, a young, unmarried woman—with little value as far as society is concerned—to be the conduit through which Love takes on flesh. “Why me?” I can almost hear Mary’s spiraling thoughts even before she knows the purpose of the angel’s visit. And then the angel pronounces what is to come. I imagine Mary first confused, then nearly crushed by the weight of an impossible burden. How do I square this reading with the fact that Mary is favored by God?

I originally created this image for Sojourners Magazine. I was invited to create an illustration based on Natalie Wigg Stevenson’s reflection on the Annunciation through a queer theological lens.1 Stevenson’s writing stretched me beyond my limits, and once I got past my discomfort, I became grateful for this challenge. Her commentary broke open my perspective and rebuilt it with affirmation, agency, consent, and pleasure. She notes that Mary is affirmed by the angel: “Greetings, favored one!” (v. 28), Mary exhibits agency: “How can this be?”(v. 34), and offers consent: “Here I am . . . let it be with me according to your word” (v. 38). Stevenson’s writing introduced a question I had never considered: What if Mary experienced pleasure? This notion proved incompatible with my internalized shame. It challenged my deep-seated feelings of unworthiness and threatened to overturn the construct of a God who is repelled by anything human—especially the very natural human qualities of pleasure and desire. The exercise of sitting with this thought felt revolutionary.

As I attempted to create imagery to accompany her work, I found myself in tears. What if my fully embodied self, including the most human parts of me, are not only acceptable but beloved by the creator of the universe? What if because of my me-ness, God couldn’t stay away, and chose to come near and take on flesh too? As I drew, I felt a few steps closer to accepting the steadfast, limitless, unconditional love of God that I claim to believe in, but have yet to fully receive.

What resulted was an image of Mary and Gabriel in a warm, intimate embrace. Mary has a peace to her that is like a wave of relief over her whole being. A kaleidoscope quilt pattern surrounds them and patterns Mary’s clothes. If we could open ourselves up to receive the incomprehensible love of God, maybe we would constantly feel wrapped up in a soft, cozy, lovingly-stitched-together quilt. Favored one, God delights in you—every single bit of you. Never forget: you are a blessing.

— Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman