Awakening Wonder

Thoughts jolted me awake when I remembered the snow. I jumped up, looked out the window, and saw a light dusting. Satisfied, I brewed coffee and stared out the window, unaware of how the day would unfold.

By mid-day, snow covered my driveway. By dusk, the power was out. For some the interruption stifled holiday plans. For me, the respite proved invigorating, as if the glory of the Lord enveloped our street. 

A rose-colored sky lit the snow and drew me outdoors. Trees fell and power lines blew as almost a foot of snow bent branches to the ground. But hiking our enchanted street in boots and an over-sized Michelin Man stuffed down coat seemed worth the risk.

The best part? No one saw it coming. A week of hype normally precipitates a snow event in the south. While mild predictions grew to 100% the morning of, a local weatherman later posted an apology with an explanation as to why they missed it. 

But I don’t really care. 

Wonder collided with daily life and forced a time out.

The same thing happened to the handful of people recorded in the narrative of Jesus’ birth. Think about it. While they went about their normal lives, heaven interrupted. 

Mary. Joseph. The shepherds. And even the Wise Men. In each instance, an unexpected outpouring changed the course of their every day routine. 

But with only twelve days before Christmas, I want to go back further than the nativity today—to where Luke, the good doctor, begins his gospel the day Zechariah entered the temple to offer sacrifices.  

Zechariah and his wife lived long, blameless lives before the Lord, yet, had no children. As a barren couple, they would’ve garnered looks of shame. 

Which brings me to this... How would you feel if you spent your entire life obeying all of God’s commands, yet couldn’t bear a child in a society that highly regarded off spring? Would you be angry? Disappointed? Numb? Would you give up on God?

I don’t know what Zechariah felt when he was chosen by lot to burn incense that day, but something was up. Because when an angel met him at the altar, “Zechariah was startled and was gripped with fear" (Luke 1: 12 NIV).

To his credit, seeing an angel for the first time would've been overwhelming. Quite overwhelming. So, the angel said to him: “Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to call him John. He will be a joy and delight to you, and many will rejoice because of his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord" (Luke 1: 13 - 15 NIV).

For many, just hearing that your child would be a joy and delight would’ve been enough to stir excitement. No two-year-old drama. No teenage angst.

But the angel went on... and on... “He is never to take wine or other fermented drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit even before he is born.  He will bring back many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. And he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous—to make ready a people prepared for the Lord" (Luke 1: 15 - 17 NIV).

When I read that passage, I get more and more excited. Yet, some of you know the story. How did Zechariah respond? The aging, tired man stood in the presence of a heavenly warrior and asked, “How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years" (Luke 1: 18 NIV).

His knees may have been hurting. Or his eye sight failing. Or maybe, just maybe, after years of longing, the faithful priest had buried his dreams so deep that even a visitor from the throne of God could not wake them.

Or he may have just lost his sense of wonder.

Regardless, the angel didn't respond well to his disbelief, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news. And now you will be silent and not able to speak until the day this happens, because you did not believe my words, which will come true at their appointed time" (Luke 1: 19 - 20 NIV).

And then Zechariah stood alone, unable to verbally explain what happened. 

If a friend told you he asked for proof from an angel, and as a result, couldn’t speak until his old wife gave birth to a baby, what would you think?

It’s kind of funny. Yet all too real. Which is why we must celebrate Christmas.

After eleven months of living, we begin the season of advent. A time set aside to focus on the wonder of God come to earth in the form of a baby. In a stable. Surrounded by animals, yet lullabied by angels. 

It took a snowfall to remind me. A surprising time out to reignite wonder. 

And Zechariah? In just a short period of time, his wife, Elizabeth, was found to be with child. 

Tune in next week for more of her story.