Advent Day 2

"In the days of Herod, king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, of the division of Abijah. And he had a wife from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. And they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord. But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.

Now while he was serving as priest before God when his division was on duty, according to the custom of the priesthood, he was chosen by lot to enter the temple of the Lord and burn incense."

    ~Luke 1:5-9

"In the time of Herod . . . " Once again Scripture places us in time, but this passage doesn't only contextualize the historical moment but also the lives the story follows. We know Zechariah was a priest, to which division he belonged, and from whom him and Elizabeth were descended. We learn that they were old, that Elizabeth was barren, and that their lives had been marked by righteousness. 

Elizabeth and Zechariah's age is important for how we understand her inability to conceive. This couple is long past starting a family. Whether or not their lack of children is still marked by sadness, at this point it has to be marked by acceptance. If Elizabeth couldn't conceive as a young women, she definitely won't be able to conceive well past menopause. 

I'm so familiar with this story that I often don't sit in the impossibility of it. Yes, I know John's conception was a miracle, but how did it feel for his parents? What was it like emotionally for the dreams they'd long since given up on to become a reality? What was it like to hold onto the slimmest hope and possibility for so long but eventually have to surrender them to God, knowing that they would never come to fruition? And then to have God grant that desire when not even the slimmest chance still remained? 

Zechariah and Elizabeth never having a child was likely, but it wasn't sure. That's where I get caught up. I take earthly evidence and discount God's ability to do the impossible. In a lot of ways, we are wise to listen to the evidence around us, but I forget that I serve the God who created the earth and everything in it. When all the evidence points to barrenness or whatever the case may be, I am too quick to give up. Too quick to leave prayer behind in favor of reality. But while I wouldn't expect another barren, elderly woman to have a child, the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth is a reminder that I should not be so quick to dismiss my impossible prayers. Even in the midst of accepting the unlikelihood, I can pray. If my desire is never fulfilled, God will hold me in that time of intimacy which prayer cultivates. But if my desire is fulfilled, I can rejoice knowing that it could not have happened without Him. We don't have to hunker down and "be realistic" at the first sign that feels definitive; we can draw into God and believe in Him for impossible prayers. 

When we do so, however, we must start with surrendered hearts. If our desires have become an idol and the fruit of our prayers depend on the answer we want, praying for the impossible is a recipe for disaster. It leads to bitterness and resentment and hopelessness. Only when our hope is in God do we have the freedom to pray so boldly without becoming chained by hope deferred. 

Zechariah and Elizabeth's lives were marked by righteousness. Their hope for a child wasn't their legacy nor was their grief over not having one. Their lives were beholden to God long before their prayer was answered. And while God blesses us so abundantly through His grace even when we are stuck in our sins, when our lives are patterned after pursuing Him, the blessing becomes more beautiful. The gift of a child is held as a gift and not as a right. 

When we put our trust in ourselves, failing to rely on God in seasons of grief and joy and the every day in between, when we fail to surrender our hearts to God, when we follow God as a means to our desires, our faith becomes distorted and lifeless. But Zechariah and Elizabeth's righteousness was not a result of God answering their prayer; their righteousness preceded the gift of a child. They lived for God when they didn't get what they wanted, and their actions flowed from that posture. 

When we come to God with nothing but hearts seeking Him, we are stripped clean and made vulnerable. This is how our hearts are transformed. This is how our obedience to God brings life. This is how we know that our salvation is not in our hands; the onus is on God alone. Our faith starts in humility and dependence. Like the gift of a child, which Zechariah and Elizabeth could do nothing to gain, righteousness is not something to gain but something to receive. And we can only receive it by receiving its source, our Messiah.

When our lives are about receiving and not earning, when our lives are about following God and not being obedient for obedience's sake, we grow in righteousness. We develop patterns of a godly life. We are set up to see God moving in the unexpected places in which He shows up. 

For Zechariah that was his normal circumstances. The moment was not extraordinary until God made it so. 

Zechariah was faithful to his daily calling, and he was chosen in this moment by what appears to be mere chance. But God had a purpose. And while God could have appeared through any interruption of Zechariah's life, He chose to breathe into the habits of Zechariah's life. To work within Zechariah's ongoing faithfulness. He used the day-to-day of Zechariah's life, where we so often live blinded to God's subtle movements, to appear in a bold way. 

Our daily patterns may feel insignificant at times. Sometimes we become discouraged when we can't see how God is moving in each rhythm. We may be tempted to position ourselves before spiritual experiences to try to hear God more powerfully, but He loves to work in the ordinary. He loves to make the ordinary into the extraordinary. He loves to speak into our daily acts of faithfulness. And He loves to show us the moments of chance that were actually evidence of His hand directing our lives. He works in the smallest circumstances and changes our lives in the moments that pass us by and the ones that stop us in our tracks. 

We can read this story as an interruption to Zechariah and Elizabeth's daily lives or as a result of it. An angel might not appear in our midst, but lives surrendered to God and marked by righteousness will always lead us into more of God. That is what will tune our hearts this season to the small moments of His guiding and prepare us for the ones that are extraordinary.