Remembering the Past...
        Planning the Future

    Park Christian Church
                                                                    (Disciples of Christ)

December 6, 2009

Scripture:         Luke 1:68-79

Sermon:           “Inside This Box”

            Turning our hearts and minds now to the word of God, let us read together the scripture lesson for the day.  Turn with me to the Gospel of Luke, chapter 1 where we will read together verses 68 through 79.  You can find that easily on page   of the New Testament in the pew Bible.

            As the Christmas story goes according to Luke’s gospel, there were two different people that were visited by angels in order to announce an unusual birth.  We know, of course, that Mary was told she would conceive a child by the power of the Holy Spirit.  And she would name him Jesus.  But, Luke tells that an angel of the Lord also visited with a priest named Zechariah and announced that he would be the father of another child.  His name would be John.  We would later know this child as John the Baptist.

            The way Luke tells it, Jesus and John were related.  Mary and John’s mother, Elizabeth, were related.  But, John was always to be the one who would announce and prepare the way for Jesus, who would be called the Son of God.

            Do you know this part of the Christmas story?  It goes something like this:  Zechariah was chosen as the priest who would enter into the most sacred part of the Temple on a given day.  And when he was there offering incense on behalf of all of the people waiting outside, Gabriel, an angel of the Lord appeared to him and said, “You will be the father of a boy named John.  He will lead many people back to God.  And he will prepare people for the coming of their Savior.”

            Well, Zechariah was an old man.  And his wife, too, was not young.  Zechariah said, “Look here, Gabriel.  My wife is getting on in years.”  Getting on in years.  I like that.  The angel, however, did not like it.  He saw it as a sign of Zechariah’s disbelief.  You don’t disbelieve when visited by an angel of the Lord.  So, the angel made the man unable to speak.

            Zechariah came out of the Temple that day and, sure enough, not a word came out of his mouth.  He was supposed to announce a blessing.  But, he couldn’t speak.  His wife did conceive a child.  Still, that man couldn’t utter a word.  Even when Mary was pregnant, and she came to visit Elizabeth, the unborn John leapt within his mother’s womb.  Zechariah couldn’t say anything.

            Eventually John was born.  Zechariah could not exclaim his joy.  Eight days later the infant was taken to be circumcised, a special occasion in the life of a Jewish boy.  The boy’s name was officially announced by his mother.  But, people wanted the father’s opinion on his name.  Why not call him Zechariah, Jr.?  And the old priest wrote down on a tablet that John should be his name.  That is the moment when Zechariah’s speech returned to him.  And this is what he said…Let us listen to the word of the Lord:

            “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.  He has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David, as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us.  Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors, and has remembered his holy covenant, the oath that he swore to our ancestor, Abraham, to grant us that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies, might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.  And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins.  By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

            I have an idea of what that moment feels like.  Many of us know it.  The birth of a child can be a moment when heaven and earth are no longer two different places.  They are opened up to one another in this magical instant of grace, and hope, and amazement.  I think that the old priest, Zechariah, had one of those moments when his own son was born.

            I’ve known of men that had such powerful experiences at the births of their children that they were completely changed into different people.  It’s like the weight of their lives comes crashing in powerfully and they gather a whole new sense of purpose and responsibility.  They get a whole new depth to what love is all about.  I’ve seen it.  I’ve lived it.

            I called an old friend when my wife was pregnant.  He’d been a father then for a few years.  And I knew that his whole life was different.  It was better.  He let go of so many different ways he had of killing himself slowly.  He said, “Dave, the thing is, my daughter saved my life.”

            Zechariah suddenly began to speak after nine months of silence.  I get that.  His life was different.  He’d witnessed the creative power of God in his own life.  And he was different.

            Now, it seems to me that Gabriel had silenced the man because it doesn’t do anyone any good for a man of the cloth to be a public example of not believing God.  The angel said, “Hush.  You’re a priest, for crying out loud.  And you don’t believe what God is telling you?  We can’t have that.”

            But, the man was different now.  Most of us are when the promise of new life arrives.  Zechariah was changed from disbelief into grand visions for what the future would hold.  It’s a change many of us long for.

            Zechariah’s life had ended up where any of us could find ourselves.  He was going through the motions.  Putting one foot in front of another, you know.  Just punching the clock.  Don’t get the idea that folks in the ministry are immune from that.  They’re not.  And that’s where this man was.

            I know folks that work the assembly line.  And it’s the same thing hour after hour.  You have your one or two duties, you make your hourly wage, you pay your union dues, and you go home.  And if you’re not careful, the monotony of it will start to define your life.  You’re just punching the clock.

            It can happen to anyone.  Folks that sit at desks for hours on end—it starts to all look the same.  The walls of the cubicle have the same photos hanging on them from five years ago because you stop getting excited about where you are.  The papers on your desktop seem to be an endless shuffle of meaningless numbers, meaningless reports.  Does it sound familiar?

            For Zechariah the ministry had become a “job”.  You can have a career, you know.  You can have a calling, a vocation.  That’s different than having a job.  But, the animal sacrifices, the worship services, the prayers—they just seemed to lose their meaning.  He was going through the motions.  And even when he was chosen to enter the most sacred part of the Temple, an honor that might only come once in a lifetime, Zechariah was just going about his duties.  Lighting incense on the altar might as well have been installing knobs on washing machines at the General Electric Appliance Park over in Louisville.

            And he wound up there just the same way any of us ever do.  He saw his whole life as an unfulfilling disappointment.  Mostly, Zechariah had grown old with his wife and the two of them never were able to have children like they wanted to.  That was their dream.  Not everyone dreams of having children.  But, they did.

            And that’s one dream that just crushes people.  You want kids.  Can’t have them.  You want kids.  But, you’ve endured so much heartache along the way.  Miscarriages, perhaps.  And it’s crushing.  Everyone else is celebrating Mother’s Day and Father’s Day.  Your peers are now becoming grandparents.  That’s how you end up where Zechariah was.  Life outside of work made his whole life feel incomplete.

            That’s not the only dream that crushes people.  I know.  Get your heart broken and the rest of your life can feel pretty mundane.  Endure the grief of losing a friend, or the love of your life, and not much else will feel very rewarding.

            That’s how Zechariah ended up where he was.  But, he was different now.  And he began to speak of the future as if it mattered again.  He began to dream.

            It’s a touching moment as a father whispers in the ear of his infant son.  He said, “You, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High.  You will prepare people for the coming of the Lord.  You will let people know of the forgiveness of their sins.  And I can see light in my life for the first time in years.  You will guide us all in the paths of peace.”

            That is pure love and adoration.   And it is pure hope.  They are words that all children should hear on a regular basis, don’t you think?  “Your life has the potential to change the world.  You have the capacity to lead people to God.  You can impact others in such a way that God’s peace will be given a greater chance to break into our world.”  All children should hear that often.

            But, Zechariah also had something of the anticipation that this season is meant to give to all of us.  His dreams about his son, John the Baptist, and his dreams about the coming of Jesus Christ, they ought to be what we are feeling, too.  In the great wisdom of the church, all those who have gone before us over the centuries, believers like you and me learned that looking forward to and celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ every single year was a renewing thing to restore anticipation and hope to our lives.

            It is exactly because our own lives can look a whole lot like Zechariah’s that the practice of anticipating great things to come is important.  We know what it’s like to have life lose its luster.  We know what’s like to get beat up, lose happiness, lose hope, start going through the motions.  If only we could strip Christmas of its modern stress and recover the anticipation of what God is about to do again!

            I remember a time before I was consumed with getting from this side of town to the other in order to buy the perfect gift.  I remember a time before I worried about spending too little on this person and spending too much on that one.  It was a time before I stood in long lines of unhappy people fighting over the last remaining Zhu Zhu Hamster.  (Have you heard of this thing?  Why get a real hamster when you can get a robotic hamster?  It is apparently the hottest toy to buy this year.)

            Anyway, I remember when I was a child and Christmas was still full of the magic that it is supposed to have.  It was full of the magic for different reasons, though.  I’d spent all my energy, and all my words expressing how important it was for me to have my own bicycle.  My first bicycle.  It is the five-year-old’s equivalent to a driver’s license and a car.  A bicycle meant freedom.  It meant membership in the neighborhood gang of little kids with bicycles.  I could put cards in the spokes and make it sound like a motorcycle, you know.  Oh, I wanted one.  And I put together a case that no defense attorney could argue against.

            One day when I came in the door from school, I looked over at the Christmas tree.  There was a box so big that someone had to stand it up on end behind the tree.  It wouldn’t go underneath.  It had to go behind it.  And I raced over to see if, maybe, my name was on the tag because that could only mean one thing.  A box that big had to have a bicycle inside of it.

            I just stood there with my hand on the box.  The tag said that it was for me.  All of my dreams were about to come true in just 21 short days.  Inside this box, I thought, was the fulfillment of all that I had ever dreamed, all that I had ever needed.

            Now, do you know what is inside of this box?  (referring to the wooden manger)

Rev. David James Brown

Park Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)