Advent Day 5

" . . . And when his time of service was ended, he went to his home.

After these days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she kept herself hidden, saying, 'Thus the Lord has done for me in the days when he looked on me, to take away my reproach among people.'"

~Luke 1:23-25

Seven is the biblical number of completion, so it feels right to finish this passage on December 7th. As we prepare to turn to Mary, I want to pause and rest with Elizabeth for a moment. 

As he normally would, Zechariah returns home after his time of service. Though he's had a dramatic encounter with God, his life looks normal when he returns. His wife is home and childless just as he left her, and yet I wonder if this journey looked different to him. If the internal changes fueled the external. If he was living in the purpose of the greater hope and joy that were carried in the promise, silencing drudgery and living renewed, bringing life to everything around him.

The passage doesn't tell us if he rushed through the door to share the good news (what a game of charades that would be) with Elizabeth or whether her pregnancy came as a shock to her, but it does tell us that she became pregnant.

Elizabeth received the beginning of all the hopes and desires that she'd held for so long. How does she respond? 

She sits in seclusion, praising the name of the Lord.

Not all miracles are meant to be broadcasted immediately. Sometimes there's wisdom in sitting in stillness with God. In resting in the miracle. 

My inclination is often to rush and jump into sharing. To share because I'm excited or because I need to process. While neither of these are bad, they enter other voices into the equation, which have the potential of burying or distracting me from God's voice. Sometimes sharing creates confusion instead of dissipating it when people don't respond the ways we expect or have their own questions to add to the mix. Sometimes sharing too quickly diminishes the story because we haven't taken the time to sit in it. To see what God is doing more broadly. To see which details would encourage listeners and which details would lose them by only bearing personal relevance. Even when people immediately rejoice with us, our spirit lacks the intimacy gained from sitting in stillness with God, creating space for the fullness of praise and rejoicing instead of getting lost in sharing the story first thing. 

Elizabeth's stillness before God gives us a lot to model. It gives us a chance to rejoice. It gives us a chance to recognize what the blessing means. What it teaches us about God. It gives us a chance to see if God is leading us towards certain people or circumstances to share. It settles our hearts in His glory. Discernment, intimacy, and wisdom are all products of creating stillness.

And what does she learn in that time of stillness?

Elizabeth learns that God sees her, that He hears the cries of her heart, and that He cares for her. The miracle confirms God's character by causing her to dwell on the miracle-worker. But she also learns that God cares about things that seem unworthy of Him.

Elizabeth specifically addresses that God has taken away her disgrace within her community. Barrenness carried with it social shame in a culture centered around the family. And instead of telling her to rise above her shame and ignore the voices of others, God took away her disgrace. He showed her that He cares about the way others look on her with disdain and that He wants to lift her up. 

Every miracle and answer to prayer has a reason, but if we focus on the miracle, the answer, the desire first and foremost, we can lose what's behind it. God performs miracles to ease our suffering, to answer our prayers, to further His Kingdom, to reveal something about Himself. And even if the reason is only another affirmation that He loves us, everything is purposed. We must direct our eyes to see. We must take time to be still before God and to recognize all that He is showing us.