Chris Taylor’s Sermon – 12/2/07

God Comes to Zechariah

Luke 1:8-20

I love this Sunday. I love this season of Advent and the hope and the mystery towards which it points. It embodies so much that is best about our faith, not least the fathomless grace and love evidenced in Jesus’ birth.

There is magic here. For children, it is there in the lighting of a new candle each week, there in this visible countdown – one candle at a time (agonizingly slow!) – that leads to the quiet suspense of Christmas Eve and the unbounded joy (just beyond) of Christmas Day. For adults the magic is there in this encounter with the transcendent; the realm of God breaking in to this world, the presence of God meeting us in the form of this helpless child lying in his straw-stuffed manger.

And, of course, there is hope. The hope we celebrate in our Savior’s birth. The hope we embrace as we await his second coming and the consummation of all history. How we need our hope! It energizes us as we approach each new day. It motivates us as we face those challenges that inevitably come our way. Like a light in the darkness, it guides and beckons ever forward. A football team that gives up hope surrenders its capacity to offer its very best. The patient who loses it significantly reduces his or her chances of recovery.

Perhaps you are struggling with that kind of hope this morning; struggling to hold onto hope in the face of loss or disappointment. It might be around your marriage, or something that is going on at work. Maybe it is an issue of addition, or an overwhelming sense of despair that seems to come over you with the Christmas season.

Our text, this morning, points toward that hope that God offers us. This is a hope that will not disappoint. We find it in that messenger, that angel, whom God sends to Zechariah. It is there in what he does, there in what he says, there in what he promises.

Now if anyone had reason to give up hope it was Zechariah and Elizabeth. To understand their situation here we have to go back a few verses to those that precede our text, “Both of them were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. But they had no children, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years.”

They were righteous and blameless but… What a world of agony is wrapped up in that single word. But they had no children. But Elizabeth was barren. But they were getting on in years. If anyone had reason to feel hope’s absence, it was Zechariah and Elizabeth.

This is what makes this text so relevant for us today. It is at this point of hopelessness that Zechariah and Elizabeth’s story can intersect our own because what they experienced can surely come our way, as well. It can come in that unexpected phone call late one night that changes everything. It can come in that blink-of-an eye moment when some car runs a light and our world is suddenly filled with the sound of screeching metal, of airbags exploding, and of our own cries as our bodies flung violently from one side to another. Chaos. Desolation. Life teaches us, teaches almost all of us at some point, how quickly our world can change.

Zechariah and Elizabeth had done everything right, but still the desolation came. Still, they knew the hardship – and in that culture, the disgrace and shame – of having no children. But now this angel breaks in, and with that angel hope.

First, there is what that angel does: he appears. What does that appearance tell us about God? It tells us that God is there, and that God is active and involved. This isn’t some impersonal, uncaring force that simply is; the collective life-force of all creation that has no consciousness of its own. No, that angel’s presence speaks to us of a conscious God; a God who is aware and very much involved. This is a God who chooses to break in, and actively impact both history and our very lives.

Second, there is what the angel says; “your prayer has been heard.” Now we aren’t sure exactly which prayer he is talking about here. Was it the cry of his heart that emerged out of his life with Elizabeth, or the more formal prayer that Zechariah uttered as he lit the incense? Was it his very personal prayer for a son or for a daughter, or the prayer of his priestly function – a prayer for Israel’s Messiah?

We don’t know. Scripture doesn’t tell us. But truthfully, it doesn’t really matter. The point is that the prayer of this one man, this very ordinary man, was heard by God – heard by that great, creative “I am” who brought all things into being. That boggles the mind, doesn’t it? That the God of all creation could hear the prayer of a single being? Yet it is absolutely in keeping with everything else that Scripture teaches us about prayer. Of the millions and billions of prayers that might be lifted up at a given moment, God hears our own; our own prayers find their way into his consciousness and being. This has nothing to do with finding exactly the right words or putting our prayers in exactly the right form. No, the message here is that God hears and receives the great longings of our hearts.

And then there is the angel’s promise: “Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth.”

What the angel does reveals an active God, very much involved in the circumstances of this world. What the angel says reveals a God who actually hears the prayers we lift before him. And what the angel promises points to a God who does, in fact, respond.

God doesn’t do exactly what we ask. Thank goodness for that. Who would dare to pray if every prayer was answered? But here is hope on this glorious first Sunday of Advent: no matter what we are facing in this life, God is there. As we lift our longings and our hopes before him, God hears and receives virtually every one of them. And as God receives these longings, God chooses to respond – responds out of a wisdom and out of a love that is so much greater than our own.

This season reminds us that we are not alone in this world. God is right here. And Zechariah and Elizabeth? They remind us that there is every reason, regardless of our circumstances… every reason to hold on to hope.