The Christmas season has a way of draping everything in nostalgia. Familiar carols, the warm glow of lights, and the cozy rituals of family traditions tend to stir something deep within us. But more often than not, I hear a song that makes me stop and think—sometimes not for the reasons the songwriter intended.

For me, Mary, Did You Know? is one of those songs.

I can’t deny the fact that it has become one of these beloved modern “classics.” It was written by comedian, and member of the Bill Gaither Band, Mark Lowry in 1984 and paired with Buddy Greene’s melody in 1991. Its haunting tone and reflective questions have made it a staple of holiday playlists and even church specials. But as I listen to it, I find myself asking, “Do we really think Mary didn’t know?”

Mark Lowry, however, for all his talent and humor, isn’t well known as a sound biblical theologian. He’s no Augustine, Matthew Henry, or even an R.C. Sproul. Heck, he isn’t even a JD Greear. He’s a comedian who ventured into songwriting, and Mary, Did You Know? reflects more of an emotional curiosity than a biblically grounded understanding of Mary’s knowledge.

That’s not necessarily bad as far as creative expressions go, but it becomes a problem when a song like this starts to shape people’s understanding of Scripture. And this song, for all its rhetorical flair, presents Mary as though she were fumbling in the dark about who her Son was. Scripture tells a different story.

The lyrics are a series of questions, each seemingly designed to provoke wonder. “Mary, did you know that your baby boy would save our sons and daughters?” “Did you know that your baby boy would give sight to a blind man?” “Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?” The song crescendos with a spectacular vision of Jesus’ divinity and mission. And yet, even still, every question crumbles under the weight of Scripture.

When Gabriel appeared to Mary in Luke 1, he spelled it out plainly. She was to bear the Son of God. He would be great, holy, and would reign on David’s throne forever. This wasn’t a vague riddle for Mary to puzzle out later—this was a divine proclamation.

Did she grasp the fullness of it before Jesus Himself revealed it? No. But Mary did know she was carrying the promised Messiah, the fulfillment of centuries of prophecy.

Her response, the Magnificat, is saturated with an understanding of God’s faithfulness and her Son’s role in His redemptive plan. This was no ordinary mother wondering about her child’s potential. This was a faithful servant of the Lord who understood, in no uncertain terms, that her Son is the Savior.

The song then asks, “Mary, did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?” Of course, she knew. Gabriel had told her He was the Son of the Most High. Simeon’s prophecy in the temple confirmed it further, calling Jesus a light for revelation to the Gentiles and the glory of Israel.

Even the Old Testament, which Mary undoubtedly knew well, testified to the Messiah’s mission. The song asks these questions as if Mary was walking blindfolded through the pages of history, but Scripture paints her as a woman of deep faith and remarkable insight.

I don’t write this to tell you to stop listening to the song. That’s not my point. But I do think it’s important to approach songs like this with discernment and wisdom. Music, especially in the Christian context, isn’t just about what sounds pretty—it’s about what conveys truth.

Good hymns and psalms teach us doctrine and reinforce the truths of Scripture. They build up the church and glorify God. Songs like Mary, Did You Know? fall short of that standard. They may stir the emotions, but they can also plant ideas that are theologically shallow or, worse, misleading.

The fact is, this song assumes that Mary didn’t know. And that assumption not only undermines what Scripture clearly teaches, but it also reflects a lack of care for the historical and biblical context of the virgin birth.

When we sing songs in church, we’re not just making music—we’re teaching, worshiping, and proclaiming truth. What we sing matters. And if we don’t take the time to weigh the words of a song against the Word of God, we risk confusing emotion with truth.

So, the next time you hear Mary, Did You Know?, think about what’s really being asked. Mary knew. She knew because God made it known to her. And we should know, too—because His Word has made it known to us.

So, the song is fine and again I’m not trying to dissuade you from enjoying it. We’re all prone to embellish—even the featured image in this article is embellished. Just approach it, as we should do with any song, with knowledge and understanding. The questions in the song must be viewed as rhetorical, not theological.

In the end, let’s just make sure we pursue discernment and wisdom, and let the truth of the gospel be our guide, even when our favorite Christmas playlist tempts us to let our guard down.