It is a joy to see young people who love Jesus. But there is something particularly special about the righteousness that comes with age. Like wine, there is a flavor that holiness develops that can only come with years.

There once was a husband, Zechariah, and a wife, Elizabeth, who loved God deeply. They had this kind of beautifully aged righteousness. Zechariah had given his life in God’s service as a priest. Luke says that “they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord.”[i] Few in scripture receive such a high commendation.

“But,” Luke tells us, “they had no child.” Their barrenness was no small thing and certainly not a personal choice. They had yearned for a child and prayed for a child. But no child had come. Any childless couple, any mother who has lost her pre-born child, knows the mark of pain, the empty place that can’t be covered up in the heart. Everyone who has walked through this loss knows the temptation to sin against God in the face of disappointment and shame.

But Zechariah and Elizabeth had walked righteously in the face of grief.

Then, one day, Zechariah had the incredible blessing of being chosen to enter the Holy Place in the temple to burn incense. He never could have anticipated what awaited him.

The angel Gabriel met him face to face. The elderly man fell in fear. “Do not be afraid, Zechariah,” Gabriel consoled him, “for your prayer has been heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John.”[ii] Zechariah couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But the news just kept getting better: “And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great before the Lord.”[iii]

And he would not just be righteous, but he would have an incredible vocation: “And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.”[iv]

This broke the limits of Zechariah’s belief. Even in front of this otherworldly creature of unfathomable glory, his decades of disappointment smothered the wick of hope. In words that strangely echoed the words of the unbelief of Abraham, the grandfather of his people, he replied, “How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.”[v]

Oh, Zechariah. How shall you know this? You mean, other than a holy regent from the very throne room of God appearing to you in the Holy Place? Sometimes, our unbelief becomes so ingrained in us that even an angel from heaven can’t dislodge it.

“I am Gabriel,” the angel responded. “I stand in the presence of God, and I was sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. And behold, you will be silent and unable to speak until the day that these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time.”[vi] 

And so Zechariah reappeared, mute, and he gestured and drew on the ground, and they understood. This was a man who had beheld something otherworldly.

And otherworldly he was. For Elizabeth did conceive, and she rejoiced in God’s gracious gift.

Nine months passed and a handsome baby boy was born to this elderly couple. For nine months Zechariah was mute. And on the eighth day they took their son to be circumcised, and, as was the custom, they gave him a name at his circumcision.

“Will he be called Zechariah?” they asked.

“No,” Elizabeth responded. “He shall be called John.”[vii]

Zechariah scribbled his agreement on a tablet and, as he did, speech returned. And not merely speech, but song. A prophet’s song emerged from the mouth of the man for whom speech had been dormant nine months, each word speaking to the rescue of a God who came for his people, even when they had stopped hoping for him, even when belief that he could come seemed impossible. Even when it seemed as though the womb of this oppressed people could not possibly bear the child of hope.

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
    for he has visited and redeemed his people
and has raised up a horn of salvation for us
    in the house of his servant David,
as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,
that we should be saved from our enemies
    and from the hand of all who hate us;
to show the mercy promised to our fathers
    and to remember his holy covenant,
the oath that he swore to our father Abraham, to grant us
    that we, being delivered from the hand 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
    in the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
    whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
    to guide our feet into the way of peace.”[viii]

 

From the mouth of one who could not believe in the birth of his own son spilled out the promise of the birth of one who would bring salvation, forgive sins, give light to those in darkness, and guide feet in peace.

The songs of Christmas are songs of hope, songs of redemption, and songs of joy. The songs of Christmas are songs that even break through our unbelief and show us that yes, we can dare hope, because the Son of God has come and is coming, and he will bring salvation even to us who struggle to believe it.

 

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel is one of my favorite Christmas carols and beautifully captures the spirit of Zechariah’s song. Enya’s version is lovely.

[i] Luke 1:6

[ii] Luke 1:13

[iii] Luke 1:15

[iv] Luke 1:16-17

[v] Luke 1:18

[vi] Luke 1:19-20

[vii] Luke 1:60

[viii] Luke 1:68-79

You may also appreciate:

Christmas Songs: Mary’s Song

Christmas Songs: Zechariah’s Song

Christmas Songs: The Angels Song

Christmas Songs: Simeon’s Song

Christmas Songs: Song of the Lamb

Photo by Johnny Cohen on Unsplash