This is about losing your voice—and finding it again. It’s about Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist. We find his story at the beginning of Luke, chapter 1.
Those of us who have lived long enough to have buried a few of our own dreams can easily identify with Zechariah’s dream for a child. Zechariah’s dream slowly set sail without him, until he found himself standing on the shore watching it fade out of sight on the horizon. But then—on one of the best days of his life, when his name was drawn to replenish the incense inside the temple, something that most priests were able to do maybe once a lifetime—something happens that even a religious person like Zechariah would never expect. (Luke 1:8-12)
Zechariah, an elderly religious leader from the priestly line of Aaron, responds with doubt when told by an angel he will have a son, even though his wife is far too old to become pregnant.
Can you sympathize with Zechariah? Our dreams can shrivel to such a tiny spark that when they suddenly blaze like a bonfire, we question and doubt—we don’t want to be hurt with one more false hope. Too much water under the bridge, too many dreams lost over the horizon. And when God DOES intervene, we are flabbergasted and can’t believe it.
The angel Gabriel says: “you will not be able to speak until the day this happens, because you did not believe my words.” So Zechariah has nine months of silence—nine months absolutely alone with his thoughts about what this God he had faithfully worshipped and served all his life is capable of doing.
Finally, John was born. Zechariah was full of joy! Not only was his son born; now he’d get his voice back. But nothing happened. Didn’t the angel Gabriel say he’d speak again “the day this happens?” Imagine how Zechariah must have felt. Did he lose faith again? One more disappointment with God, one more dream unfulfilled?
Zechariah gets a second chance to prove faithful. (Luke 1:57-66). The first time he couldn’t believe what the angel said, but now he acts without hesitation to confirm what the angel told him: “His name is John!”
The nine months of silence have done their work in Zechariah. He acts in faith, even though by this time—eight days after the birth—he must have wondered if he’d EVER speak again!
And when Zechariah unexpectedly finds his voice again, his first words are words praising God. “Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue set free, and he began to speak, praising God.” (Luke 1:64)
Now we finally hear Zechariah’s song. Unlike Mary—who was singing almost immediately after hearing the news of her pregnancy–Zechariah’s song was nine months and eight days in coming.
Then Zachariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied,
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel;
he came and set his people free.
He set the power of salvation in the center of our lives,
and in the very house of David his servant,
Just as he promised long ago
through the preaching of his holy prophets:
Deliverance from our enemies
and every hateful hand;Mercy to our fathers,
as he remembers to do what he said he’d do,
What he swore to our father Abraham—
a clean rescue from the enemy camp,
So we can worship him without a care in the world,
made holy before him as long as we live.And you, my child, “Prophet of the Highest,”
will go ahead of the Master to prepare his ways,
Present the offer of salvation to his people,
the forgiveness of their sins.
Through the heartfelt mercies of our God,
God’s Sunrise will break in upon us,
Shining on those in the darkness,
those sitting in the shadow of death,Then showing us the way, one foot at a time,
down the path of peace.
(Luke 1: 67-79, The Message version)
Just like Mary, Zechariah frames his personal story in the much larger story of what God is doing: fulfilling the promises made through the prophets, showing mercy to his people, remembering the covenant with Abraham.
Maybe in the nine months of silence, Zechariah understood his life was to fit into GOD’S larger purposes rather than the other way around. Maybe Luke wants all of us to see our lives this way.
Zechariah sings of salvation through the coming Messiah: “Deliverance from our enemies and every hateful hand.”
Jesus came as a Jewish Messiah to save a Jewish people who had many enemies. True, he didn’t do it all at once, and their hopes for a political Messiah were frustrated.
But we too quickly jump to images of salvation that are inherently individualistic and forget that Jesus came to not only offer personal forgiveness but social justice, not only personal salvation but a new society called the Kingdom of God. Then, in the final verses Zechariah’s song becomes personal: we are delivered not only from our enemies, but from “the shadow of death.”
Our Song
So where are you and I in this song?
I wonder if some of us have lost our voices, not through an angel’s judgment but because–like Zechariah–we’ve lost our ability to trust in a God who does the impossible.
Maybe we look at all the misery and suffering and injustice in the world or in our own communities and homes this (supposedly) joyful season and wonder, “where is God?” I cannot remember a Christmas season more filled with anxiety and despair. Over a quarter of a million American deaths of covid-19 and perhaps as many more again in the coming winter months.
Or maybe it’s personal. We know Jesus is supposed to be the light, but what we feel most of the time is just darkness. Personal darkness is hard to admit during what is supposed to be one of the “happiest” times of year.
How do we get our voices back?
In watchful silence.
Zechariah spent nine silent months attentively watching Elizabeth’s stomach slowly grow, nine months of slowly believing again.
In this watchful silence, we can see what God is actually doing in our lives that we easily might otherwise miss. We can decide that our lives are intended to fit into GOD’S purposes, rather than the other way around.
Let Zechariah encourage you today. Sometimes the songs we have to wait to sing are the best.
