All three of my girls have said at one point or another this December that it doesn’t “feel like Christmas.” I usually give them some pushback on this as I rattle off all the reasons it should feel as festive as ever. But truthfully, I’m in the same boat as they are this season. Maybe this is because we’re renting right now and many of our worldly possessions are in storage, so nothing feels quite as familiar or as permanent as in the past. Or perhaps it’s because we’ve allowed December to be hectic and we haven’t been intentional enough about doing Christmasy activities as a family.
I’m not sure of the reason for our disconnect from the wonder. We are not suffering or oppressed, and so I even feel a sense of guilt for not being able to fully embrace the joys of the season. But we are weary and waiting on clarity, on answers to specific prayers, and on the Lord’s movement in several areas of our life that don’t seem insignificant. I wonder if it’s okay to acknowledge that more subtle sort of doubt or disappointment in the midst of a season that’s often measured by our merriment?
I think the answer is a resounding yes because we are all still living in this hard in-between of the already and the not-yet. This tension of acknowledging the light that has come and the light that is yet to fully shine and eradicate all of the darkness around us and in us is the very nature of Advent. To feel both the heartache and the hope of this season is to be fully human.
I relate best to the characters in the Bible who are doubters. If we take only the Christmas story, I’m most in awe of Mary and her faith. But I most understand Zechariah and his doubt. When Gabriel appears to him in the temple and tells him that he and Elizabeth will bear a son in their old age, I think his initial disbelief is completely understandable. This is a preposterous announcement. He is an old man. Elizabeth is a woman of very advanced maternal age. That ship has sailed. Gabriel, though, tells Zechariah that God himself sent him to share this news and because of his unbelief (which he simply expressed in the form of a question) he will be silent and unable to speak until the baby (John) is born.
The punishment seems extreme, but something incredible happens to Zechariah in the many months and the long silence between Gabriel’s announcement and John’s birth. Zechariah’s doubt turns into Zechariah’s profound faith. By the time the baby arrives and everyone is all worked up about why Elizabeth wants to name their son John instead of Zechariah Jr. or something more in line with family tradition, Zechariah is “filled with the Holy Spirit.”
As he scribbles on a tablet that the baby is, in fact, to be named John, his silence is broken and he prophesies in what we now call Zechariah’s Song or the Benedictus:
“Praise the Lord, the God of Israel, because he has visited and redeemed his people. He has sent us a mighty Savior from the royal line of his servant David, just as he promised through his holy prophets long ago…”
(Luke 1:68-70)
Zechariah is like so many of us—a doubter who wasn’t really feeling the angel’s excitement about an unbelievable proclamation of good news. But he stayed the course, allowing God to work in the silence to override his feelings of disbelief with a newfound faith.
I want to be a little more like Zechariah this Christmas. Doubtful but obedient. Not necessarily feeling faithful, but remaining faithful because God is faithful to his promises.
“Because of our God’s merciful compassion, the dawn from on high will visit us to shine on those who live in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:78-79)
Even while we still are still living in this often discouraging in-between time, may we lift our heads and our hearts this weekend and join Zechariah in praising God for the dawn.
Merry, merry Christmas from me (and all of us!) to you.
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