students of jesus

One day you go to work, encounter an angel, and receive the best news of your life. But it’s too good to be true, so you’re not sure whether to trust your heart to happiness.

Then the angel gives you an assignment: keep silent for nine months and meditate on the work of God. This is the story of Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist. His story is also a part of the Christmas saga. 
 The angel who delivers good news to him is mildly offended at Zechariah’s inability to enter into joy and hope. This angel, Gabriel, has come straight from the presence of God, where the only news is good news. Gabriel’s response to fear and doubt is instructive: keep silent until it comes to pass. Then, nine months and eight days later, Zechariah’s voice returns.

What would you say after nine months of meditating on the goodness of God?
 Zechariah’s first words are recorded in Luke 1: 67-80. Nine months of reflection. Nine months to consider the work of God. Nine months to travel from doubt to insight; from fear to hope.

Here are seven vital words:

         §  Zechariah was “filled with the Holy Spirit.” His perspective had shifted from everyday life to the presence of God. (v 67) How many of us understand our need to dwell in the presence?

         §  The God of Israel is in the business of redemption, both personally and corporately. (vs 68-71). How many of us consider that God’s redemptive purposes extend beyond our own need?

         §  God’s saving action demonstrates his faithfulness to all generations, from Abraham forward. (vs 72-73) How many of us consider that God sees all of humanity before him at any given moment?

         §  The purpose of God’s saving action is so we can “serve him without fear.” (v74) How many of us consider God’s purpose in saving us?

         § John the Baptist’s ministry was solely to prepare the way for another. (v76) How many of us view ministry as releasing someone else to be the star?

         §  Isaiah’s fingerprints are all over Zechariah’s words (vs 77-79). How many of us allow the scripture to inform our wondering and meditation?

         §  Finally, the baby was only eight days old. Zechariah’s work was just beginning. (v80) How many of us see the fulfillment of God’s promise as the beginning instead of the end?

Elizabeth’s child wasn’t the only thing gestated during those nine months. Zechariah’s prophetic insight was birthed after it came full term, and we are better for it today.

God comes to us in unexpected ways, which means my expectation can be the very thing that causes me to miss him. This is a lesson from the first Christmas: God came to nation which eagerly longed for his coming, prayed for his return, and placed all their hopes in his presence. Yet most of the nation missed the hour of his visitation.

Is this simply history, or is it a parable for our day?

For centuries the people of God had looked for a day of God’s personal visitation. Suffering under the twin fists of Rome and King Herod (a counterfeit king), the people of the nation remembered the golden age of King David a thousand years earlier. They knew King David was the prototype of God’s chosen vessel, a unifying and conquering King who established Israel in peace, security, and prosperity. After David’s reign many the prophets began to anticipate a day the God of Israel would not rule through a representative king; instead, God would come personally, take his place on earth, and establish Jerusalem as his capital city.

The day of God’s visitation would be both glorious and terrifying. The oppressed (Israel) would be rescued and the oppressor (Persia, Syria, Greece, Rome--or whomever was on top at the time) would be cast down. The people of Israel were looking for their freedom. They expected God to judge the rest of the world as well. They expected God would come to the Temple and establish his throne on the earth. They expected the Day of the Lord would be both great and terrible: great for them, terrible for their enemies. These expectations were based on their understanding of the scriptures and the encouragement of their teachers. These expectations shaped their view of the world, and became the very substance of their hope.

Who could have imagined that when God came to earth personally, he would be dressed in the frailty of an infant child? Who could have imagined that someday God would indeed come to the Temple, only to declare that the true Temple was inside a human body? Who could have imagined that this King would establish his throne in the hearts of men? And perhaps most incredibly, who could have imagined that the Day of Judgment would indeed come, but that the Son of God would take the judgment upon himself in order to save the guilty?

Of course, in our day, we know these things. We are safe from any misunderstanding. We can see clearly. We have the scripture. We have great teachers. We are God’s people. But what if God’s people now are no different from God’s people then?

The first Christmas serves as an Advent meditation today: how do my expectations blind me to the coming of the King?

Storytellers, poets, songwriters, historians, correspondents, legal scholars, apocalyptic dreamers. Perhaps it’s blindingly obvious: the books of the Bible were written by . . . writers. The Holy Spirit breathed upon each one, opened their hearts and ears and eyes to the spiritual realities around them. But they were still writers. They struggled to capture the inspired moment of clarity and present a finished work capable of blessing generations to come.

Peter described it this way: “the prophets, who spoke of the grace that was to come to you, searched intently and with the greatest care, trying to find out the time and circumstances to which the Spirit of Christ in them was pointing when he predicted the sufferings of the Messiah and the glories that would follow.” (1 Peter 1:10-11) Even though the Spirit was their guide, they searched intently. It was an inspired collaboration.

The prophet Habakkuk (that discontent whining wondering man who in turn inspired the Apostle Paul) recorded the process of capturing a flash of divine inspiration. Although the scripture is complete, inspiration still flashes today. Since we carry the inspired good news, Habakkuk’s words are a lesson for us as well:

"I will stand at my watch 
and station myself on the ramparts; 
I will look to see what he will say to me,
 and what answer I am to give to this complaint. Then the Lord replied: 
 Write down the revelation
 and make it plain on tablets
 so that a herald may run with it. 
 For the revelation awaits an appointed time; 
it speaks of the end 
and will not prove false. 
Though it linger, wait for it; 
 it will certainly come
 and will not delay." (Habakkuk 2:1-3)

Here are four observations capable of making us partners with the Spirit’s inspiration:

“I will stand at my watch and station myself on the ramparts . . .” We ourselves create the space to receive revelation. Habakkuk purposefully took up the position of watchman: he was alone and vigilant, eager and confident that the Lord would speak to him. He was not disappointed; he had prepared himself for when the moment came. When we create space for the Spirit to come, he willingly accepts the invitation.

“Make it plain . . . “ God favors clarity. Beauty and art flow from inspiration, but we must make it plain. Our part is the clear expression of what he illuminates. There is a time to scatter rose petals among our words, but first comes content. Our words should carry a meaning clear enough that others may run with the message.

“The revelation awaits an appointed time . . .” Even revelation requires timing. Strangely, the appointed time is seldom in the heat of battle. When social debate rages back and forth in public media we are exposed to the heat of passion, but not much light. The prophets spoke to their day, but the prophetic message carried eternal weight. Neither human emotion nor intellect equal divine revelation; it comes only from God, and it requires his timing.

“Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come . . .” That's right: wait for it. Habakkuk stationed himself. He also waited. In the rush to say something important we often miss the opportunity to hear something eternal. Waiting is the discipline of writers who speak to generations. You can speak to the moment or you can speak to the ages; you can rarely do both.

I believe in the inspiration of the scripture, but I don’t believe the Holy Spirit used robots to mouth his words. We have a role to play, a role that compliments the word of the Spirit. Habakkuk shows us how it’s done.

Once there was a man who lived a life guided by a checklist. He did not always fulfill each item each day, but each and every day the checklist was his guide. All day long, eyes down, he navigated his life according to the inspired advice on the list. The man gained great wealth, and even some reputation among the people of his town, but at the end of his life he was no wiser than at the beginning, because the checklist was not enough. The checklist was his only friend, and he died alone. The end.

Is there anything handier than a checklist? But they can be deceiving. In the Old Testament the original checklist was ten items long. Eventually it grew to 613.

We cling to our checklists because we like to think they help us manage life. We refine the lists, prioritize the lists, interpret our lists, and look down on other people’s lists. We claim to have special insight into the most important items on the list. The problem is there’s no such thing as a checklist for the desires of our hearts. You could check off every item on your bucket list and still die unfulfilled.

It’s true: we were created for a purpose, but you can be sure the Creator isn’t using a checklist to keep your life’s score. Yet we like to keep score. It’s so much easier for us to keep our eyes on the clipboard. Give to the poor? Check. Relax one day a week? Check. Sacrifice? Pray? Memorize? Check. Check. Check. The checkmarks fall into a neat line from top to bottom. We start a new page each day. We smile at the winning streaks we string together; completely unaware the winning streaks came from playing the wrong game.

We like checklists because is it easier to relate to a book of rules than to relate to a living person. Checklists are unchanging and accessible. People are filled with mystery. Checklists are clear and unequivocal. Checklists make plain statements and tell us what to do, but there’s more to life than clarity, because people—even perfect people—present nonverbal hints and clues. Important things are not always listed plainly.

Checklists are easy; people are hard to read. Still, they yield rewards we never imagine. If we successfully keep a checklist, we have ourselves to thank. When we enter into relationships (especially a relationship with the Creator of the universe), we discover a world beyond ourselves.

What if we live our lives according the master checklist, but never meet the Master himself? Here’s one more item for the checklist: “Does anything on this list make an eternal difference?”

A long time ago one of my best friends was having difficulty resting in the grace of God. He was plagued by the memory of sin and tormented by the guilt he carried. He was a Christian--a committed Christian by nearly any standard--yet his heart was not at rest. I had no patience for problems like this. My approach was to confidently (and ignorantly) quote a Bible verse and move on to something more pleasant.

“Seriously man, give it a rest,” I said. “The Bible says ‘Love covers a multitude of sins.’”

“Yes, but how?”

“Who cares how? I’m just glad it does.”

I was selfish: my version of the truth conveniently served me. There seemed only one possible interpretation of this verse--God loved me, and he covered my sin. Like so many things, I was technically right, yet completely missed God's heart.

This one exchange, uttered decades ago, recently found its way to the surface of my thoughts again. How does love cover sin? Whose love? And why? While I was correct that the love of Jesus is adequate for our guilt and shame, it turns out I quoted a verse that has very little to do with the sacrifice of Jesus. Here’s the actual verse in a slightly fuller context:

The end of all things is near. Therefore be clear minded and self-controlled so that you can pray. Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms. (I Peter 4: 7- 10)

Peter was talking not about the sacrificial love of Jesus, but rather the love we are called to demonstrate toward others. Peter expected the imminent return of Jesus, so he instructed us to think clearly, act reasonably, and pray hard. The intended result leads us to love deeply; we can cover the sins of others. The Spirit of God, speaking through Peter, is calling us to do for others what Jesus has done for us.

I can still hear my friend’s voice, “Yes, but how?” Perhaps it’s time to suggest three possibilities from Peter's words:

§ Love covers sin by filling the void: When we see the sins of others we have a choice; we can rush to expose the sinfulness we see, spreading guilt and condemnation, or we can come to the aid of those who are the victims of sin. We can become God's police force and blow the whistle on sinfulness, or we can become God's ambulance and provide triage to the wounded. All sin comes with a price. Someone, somewhere is paying the price. We are called to cover the losses left behind by sin: a husband leaves his wife and child--who will fill the void for a suddenly- single mother? A government exploits the people it should serve--who will serve the unmet needs of the people? We have a choice: crusade against injustice or love those in need.

§ Love covers sin by 'gifted service': In a practical expression of his grace, God himself lavishes gifts beyond reckoning and directs us to employ these gifts in the service of others. Too many believers revel in the crazy generosity of God assuming it's all about them. Do we see God's saving action as a hand-out to us or an invitation to join him in rescuing others? The way of the world is to receive a gift and enjoy it for our own pleasure. That's what consumers do. The way of the kingdom is ask the Father, “what would you like me to do with this?” That's what disciples do.

§ Love covers sin by offering hospitality: God's love serves people, especially strangers. The New Testament word for “hospitality” suggests showing love toward the stranger, the foreigner, and the outcast. It suggests quite literally that we should make a place for others. It's not as if there are a limited number of seats at the Father's banquet table. Our assignment is to joyfully welcome others. When we add another place at the table we prepare ourselves for the day when the Father will say, “you really did it for me.”

Whatever the Father has done for us, he encourages us to do for others. His gifts come with the empowerment for us to give them again and again. Jesus told Peter and the disciples, "freely you've received, therefore freely give" (Matthew 10:8) Every benefit we have ever received from the Father is also an empowerment to give to others. It will cover a multitude of sin--but don't take my word for it, take Peter's.