Zechariah's Prayer of Expectation

Can’t happen.

No way.

Never!

You gotta be kiddin’ me?!

Gimme a break.

Really?

Zechariah was an old man. A priest, yes, but old. Elizabeth, his wife of decades, must not have been far behind. She had been barren as a young woman. Now she was well passed child bearing age. No children had been born to them. No children would be born to them. So everyone thought.

God works in can’t and won’t. God overwhelms impossible and never. God loves the space between reasonable and unreasonable. God excels at reaching beyond possible into the impossible. God inhabits the realm beyond nature, the supernatural.

When God promises. You can trust it. 

When God says, “Can.” You ask, “When?”

When God says, “Will.” You say, “Yes!”

You can count on Him. He is God. He is Sovereign. He can do what He wants.

Zechariah is burning incense before God in the Temple. You can read this in Luke 1:5 and following. The archangel Gabriel appears. Awesome bunch angels are. They have to skip, “Hello,” and move straight to “Do not be afraid.” Gabriel tells Zechariah that Elizabeth will have a boy. A boy to be named John meaning “God has been gracious.” Oh, yes, in spite of decades of barrenness God had a special, gracious plan. A miraculous plan. John will be a powerful prophet like unto Elijah. Preparing the way for the Messiah will be John’s calling.

“How can this be?,” asks Zechariah, “I’m old. My wife is old.”

Generally, we can agree to the aphorism that “no question is a dumb question,” but I wonder if we need an exemption for questions asked in disbelief of God’s Sovereign will? Our amended rule, not so succinct, would be something like this, “No question is dumb, unless God clearly says something to you and you just as clearly think God can not do it. You’ve just called God a liar. You are in BIG trouble now, Buddy.” That’s the new rule. We’ll call it The Big Trouble Disbelief Rule. You’d do well to follow it. Unless you wanna end up like Zachariah. 

Gabriel shut him up for nine-plus months. No speech. Read Luke 1:19-20. It wasn’t until John was born and taken to be circumcised on the eighth day that Zechariah’s tongue was loosed says Luke 1:64.

When Zechariah offers his amazing praying in song, the Benedictus recorded in Luke 1:68-79, he connects it with the miraculous baby-boy bearing promise of a Sovereign God from verse 13. Zechariah offers an expectant prayer. Expectant of the Messiah. Expectant of his own miraculous son’s role as the forerunner prophet.

Expectant prayers begin with God’s promise. Not hopes. Nor wishes. Not even dreams. But God’s promise. God announced through the angel Gabriel that Zechariah and Elizabeth would have a son. They did have a son.

What is impossible in your life? Who do you think will never change? What do you think can’t happen? That is exactly where God likes to show up. Seek His will. Pray in expectation of His answer. What has God announced for you? Act in faith as He guides you. Find God’s promises for you. Live in all the He has for you.

How can this be?

God said so.

To rescue us from the hand of our enemies, to enable us to serve Him without fear in holiness and righteousness before Him all our days. Luke 1:74-75

Read or listen to this Scripture from Luke 1 in YouVersion. This post is based on the second sermon in my series, The Prayers of Christmas. You can hear the podcast here or subscribe on iTunes.

They Call Me Mr. H

They call me Mr. H. 

I'm a volunteer in my youngest's class. Their teacher, the amazing Mrs. B, is a kindergarten whisperer. I am sure of it. She posses super powers of instruction and order. Kindergarteners can not resist. Enamored as if spell bound. I can see why. She loves them. It shows.

Her own hyphenated surname demanded succinctness for the precious one’s continually calling it. She became Mrs. B. Over the weeks she has gently, with continual modeling, changed my moniker from “John Mark’s Dad” to “Mr. H.” And so I am.  

Yesterday morning I was about my normal volunteer routine. Writing stories for 15 minutes each with three boys. Improvement is evident. Their language skills. Their vocabulary. Their penmanship. I am blessed to observe these changes for just a few minutes each week with each young man. These encounters go something like this.

Little guy comes to my volunteer table. I stand, yet stoop, to give a man-worthy greeting. A fist bump. A high five. A hand shake. We settle into our stubby chairs. I ask him to read me the last story he wrote while assessing if I can decipher his words as he reads to me. Then we engage in Q&A to find a story we might write together. Once the topic is settled, we begin writing one “turtle talk” sounded out letter at a time. In 15 minutes we have recorded a real life story from their own unique kindergarten boy perspective. It’s delightful. 

And then: Lunch. I go too. And then: Recess! I play too. Tag and soccer and anything the kids wanna play. I make a daddyfied fool of myself. It is delightful. Really. 

Hearing, “Goodbye Mr. H,” ring out from little friend’s voices I felt thoroughly satisfied with life. So fortunate. I love my wife. I love my kids. I love my church. I love my town. And what have I done to merit such grace? I am so thoroughly blessed. 

A text, “Have you seen the news?” News app openned. Delight shattered. Sandy Hook Elementary. Newtown, Connecticut. Visceral response. Heart pounding. Mind racing. Face flushing. Spirit bursting. Eyes welling. Guilt crashing.

I was just in a kindergarten class. My son’s class. And then.

This. Monstrous. Unthinkable. This. Across the country yet so close to home.

Details I do not want to know. Grief I can not imagine. Lives forever changed. And a question to which no answer will ever be enough: Why? 

Our world contains wickedness. Our minds are capable of atrocities. Our hearts betray evil.

Yet this same world contains love. Minds to create solutions. Hearts breaking with compassion.

Come together, My Friends. Grief. Mourn. Wail. Pray. Comfort. Love.

Love others. Love them beyond what is natural. Love them as Christ giving himself. Love them to delight. Love them. And make a difference. To everyone you meet.

They call me Mr. H.

H is for heartbroken.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. 2 Corinthians 1:3-5

Mary's Prayer of Faith

When life is easy—no worries, no troubles, no fears—when we’ve got it under control, we don’t need faith. Faith is what you need when you can’t meet your need. Faith is power when you have no power left. Faith is hope when everything seems hopeless.

Dear Mary, young Mary, virgin Mary was approached by the angel Gabriel. Who spoke to her. Called her highly favored. Told her she was pregnant. Child conceived by the Holy Spirit. To be named God Saves. To be known as God’s Son. To be a the never-ending Messiah King. 

If ever there was a need for faith. With one phrase after another, Gabriel multiplied Mary's need. 

Me? Really? Can’t be? Are you sure? I’m Mary. I’m common. I’m no one special. I’m a virgin.

“For nothing is impossible with God,” says Gabriel (37). I love it.

“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered (38), “May it be to me as you have said.” I love it even more. Wow! 

Humility. Obedience. Faith. Right there. In the midst of crazy uncertainty, Mary responded with humble faith. Don’t you love it?

Don’t you wish it was true of you? 

That you could say, would say, to God, “May it be to me as you have said.” And then do your part and trust Him. Simple, right?

We need faith in impossible situations. Mary's prayer reveals the origins of faith like that. Faith from a heart reverent to God (46-47). Faith from a posture humble before God (48-49). Faith fully trusting in God’s mercy and His might (50-55).

May we ever answer Sovereign God: May it be to me as you have said. 

Read or listen to this angelic encounter of Luke 1:26-56 in YouVersion. Parenthetic references herein are verses in Luke 1. This post is based on the first of my sermons, The Prayers of Christmas. You can hear the podcast here or subscribe on iTunes.

He Knows It

Kind spirit. Broad heart. Discerning mind. Middle aged. Mentally ill. Robert we'll call him.

Robert was passed through school even though he could hardly read. And he knows it. He is on disability because he can't hold down a regular job due to his mental illness. And he knows it. He has few friends because of the way his good nature has been taken advantage of. And he knows it. He is a follower of Christ because he needed salvation from his sin. And he knows it. He has much of the Bible memorized in order to make better choices and show his love for God. And he knows it. Yet he is not a member of a local church because most Christians treat him judge him as lacking. And he knows it.

He knows he is judged. Measured as less than. Considered dependant. And he knows it.

Why?

By no fault of his own. Robert didn't choose mental illness. Who would choose such a life? He didn't. But it is his life.

As a Christ follower, I comforted and counseled Robert, while I boiled on the inside at the treatment of this dear man by so-called Christians. I want to scream to anyone listening: This is not right! He may not be who you think he should be, but he is a wonderful man! 

Robert had no harsh word for anyone. He simply stated his experience with people. Especially church people. And he used only one phrase that might sound negative. That is, if it applies to you. He said that people with jobs, particularly church people, can be so "self righteous." Just because they have a job and he doesn't, they see themselves as better than him. How does he know? Because they have told him so.

Are you a disheartened Robert? Are you a judging self-righteous? Are you an apathetic in between? Or are you a Christ follower that will meet people—every single one created in God's image—where they are at, as they are, and accept them with no self-righteousness?

Robert has been judged for who he is not. He has not been accepted for who he is.

If you are a Robert: The expectations of others do not define who you are. God alone counts.

If you are Self-righteous: You are not better than anyone due to anything. God alone judges.

What would God say of your attitude, Dear Reader? 

He knows it.

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.—Philippians 2:5

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Sometimes "S"

My willbesixbeforeweknowit year old son, the loving linebacker, JM, is learning to read and write in Kindergarten. It’s amazing to watch how his world is expanding. His little world of audible only words is becoming a greater world of written word. Couple those new skills with his God-given problem solving ability and you never know what he is going to come up with. Or when.

A small percentage of his original, oft humorous, offerings have made it to my quotes page as Markese. Read those in a moment.

His most recent, arresting pronouncement and the reason for my post is this: 

Sometimes “s” can be a good thing. Like “friends”. You just add “s” and you have more friends.—JM, age 5

His world, though rapidly expanding through language, is still so simple. Add an “s” and get more friends. He is learning language skills. But that observation reveals so much more about him. What’s important to him. Friends. What we all need more of. Friends. What we could all be more freely for others. Friends.

JM’s childhood logic begs the adult question: If you could add an “s” to anything to have more, honestly, what would it be?

What does that tell you about yourself?