Innermost Interlude

It was sunny and cool in the mountains of western New Mexico as I took my morning walk last August. I left the busy covered area where about a hundred family members had just finished a huge breakfast. I wanted a few minutes alone from the numerous conversations taking place and walked west up the slight incline of a small hill.

I passed the site where I spent hundreds of childhood hours playing in and around the corrals that have long since been torn down. On my left was the house I helped build as a teenage boy; the one which replaced the original house that had burned to the ground just weeks before. 

I crested the hill and turned south. Off in the distance was the tall mountain where I went on my first hunting trip with my dad. Just in front of me was the depression of a dirt tank used to trap the rain water running down from higher ground. When the tank had plenty of water, the cattle used it as a watering hole. As children, we used it as a place to get muddy.

Step by step I walked around the original perimeter of that small ranch my grandparents had homesteaded back in the 1930s. They eked out a life on this little parcel of land that current generations use as a quiet escape from the pace of the "real world." 

I know the hills and the low spots, the fence rows and the dirt roads. Yet, on these too infrequent trips back, I find myself walking. My walks are an amalgamation of long-held memories and the heightened sensory awareness of the tiny things that have changed. I notice the droppings of deer that roam the area. I see where old scrub cedar trees have died and fallen. Insects are everywhere, but primarily down in the soil. 

It is in moments like these, that I reintroduce myself to the long familiar. I find that I often forget to look for the surprises when I walk the trail on a regular basis. 

It's like that with Scripture. It's like that with Christmas. My attempts to climb inside the hearts and minds of the characters in the story are really my attempts to remember. But I want to remember with a fresh vision.

I want the old stories to be just as fresh as the new ones. "Innermost" is helping me do that. I hope it's helping you, too.

Tomorrow, we turn our attention to a girl who has just barely become a woman.

Christmas At Innermost: Zechariah

Part 6

The old woman grew tired as she gazed up the darkening path to hopefully catch a glimpse of her husband. She worried much on these days when he began travel so early and rode until late. A few times he had risked the bandits that frequented the hills and completed his trip well into the night. The clouds high overhead were wrapped in golden orange that was quickly shifting to gray, then black. She decided to go back inside their little home when she looked up the road one last time. She saw his faint image off in the distance. A moment later, she heard the plodding steps of the old burro.

"I'm glad you made it back, husband!" she called out. "How was Jerusalem? Did you enjoy your time with the 'Three Kings?'" He lifted his head and pointed to his throat. "Are you ill? I have some warm soup that will surely help!" She waited until they arrived at the post Zechariah used when he needed to hitch his animal, then she reached up and gave her husband a hug as she said, "Take your beast to the barn and I will have your supper ready on the table."

It was as her husband walked silently into the door that she noticed this slight grin on his face. "What are you so happy about that you smile even when you have laryngitis?"

Zechariah quietly reclined at the table and began to sip his soup, then took a bite of the hard bread. Chewing, he reached down by his side to pick up the small writing tablet which he brought with him from Jerusalem. "I was chosen," he wrote, then looked up to see Elizabeth's expression.

"Chosen? To offer the incense?"

He nodded.

"That is why you have such light in your eyes! Husband, no wonder you don't have a voice. You must have told the story a hundred times already!"

He held up his hand to slow her down. "An Angel visited," he wrote hastily.

"An Angel? In the Holy Place?"

Zechariah nodded again.

"Why? What did he say? No one has seen an Angel in our lifetime!"

Zechariah wrote furiously. "God has heard our prayers!"

"Our prayers? What do you mean, Zechariah? What prayers do you mean?"

Zechariah point to his wife. Then to himself. Then back to the tablet, emphasizing the last two words: "OUR PRAYERS!"

A look of shock covered Elizabeth's face. What did that mean? She pondered it, then looked down to the new words her husband had written: "We will have a son!"

As she read them, she looked up at the tears breaking from the corner of Zechariah's eyes. She bit her lip. Then a little sob escaped from deep within her. "How? What are we to do?"

He reached under the little table where they sat. He pulled out the small bouquet of flowers and handed them to her.

She sobbed again. Then laughed. Then leaped up and broke into a little dance.

To my readers: the events surrounding the birth of Christ are given extensive coverage in Scripture. The parts we don't always know about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' participants. My attempt this Christmas is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the first few chapters of Matthew and Luke. My hope is that reading my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

 

Christmas At Innermost: Zechariah

Part 5

Zechariah turned to leave...

11 Unannounced, an angel of God appeared just to the right of the altar of incense.
12 Zachariah was paralyzed in fear.
13 But the angel reassured him, "Don't fear, Zachariah. Your prayer has been heard. Elizabeth, your wife, will bear a son by you. You are to name him John.
14 You're going to leap like a gazelle for joy, and not only you—many will delight in his birth.
15 He'll achieve great stature with God. "He'll drink neither wine nor beer. He'll be filled with the Holy Spirit from the moment he leaves his mother's womb.
16 He will turn many sons and daughters of Israel back to their God.
17 He will herald God's arrival in the style and strength of Elijah, soften the hearts of parents to children, and kindle devout understanding among hardened skeptics—he'll get the people ready for God."
18 Zachariah said to the angel, "Do you expect me to believe this? I'm an old man and my wife is an old woman."
19 But the angel said, "I am Gabriel, the sentinel of God, sent especially to bring you this glad news.
20 But because you won't believe me, you'll be unable to say a word until the day of your son's birth. Every word I've spoken to you will come true on time—God's time."
(Luke 1:11-20 The Message)

.......
The wonderment of everyone near the Temple was as distant as yesterday's sunset. Zechariah leaned forward and stroked the neck of his old burro as if the gentle touch might communicate this mystery to the beast. The burro snorted and trudged onward. They were many miles from the beginning of today's journey.

"It's one thing to hope my old four-legged friend will understand," the priest thought to himself. "But I have no voice. How will I tell Elizabeth? What am I supposed to do, O Eternal?" He raised his eyes to notice the cart of a flower merchant on the edge of town. After a brief exchange he climbed back up on the mule, not realizing the twinkle in his eyes.

To my readers: the events surrounding the birth of Christ are given extensive coverage in Scripture. The parts we don't always know about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' participants. My attempt this Christmas is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the first few chapters of Matthew and Luke. My hope is that reading my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Christmas At Innermost: Zechariah

Part 4

Through the smoke of incense, Zechariah could see the long sash from Aaron's robe lying on the floor just outside the veil. From the other side of the thick curtain, he could hear the bells tinkling on the sleeves of the High Priest as he moved about in the Holy of Holies. The voice was that of an old man, muffled in the mist of Zechariah's mind: "Blessed are You, O Etern..." In fear, Zechariah listened again. Nothing! No bells! No voice! His own throat seemed full of cotton as he called the name. "Aaron!" Then, with more urgency: "Aaron!" He bent down, grabbed the long sash and began pulling..."

Covered with perspiration, he sat up in the bed. His night clothes were soaked. The sounds in the courtyard told him that morning was stirring. He smelled a firepot burning outside.

All night, the dream had wafted its way back into his subconscious. He thought of his ancestor, the original High Priest, and how he must have felt when he entered the presence of the Eternal in that wilderness tent of worship. The Almighty gave strict instructions on how to prepare for that occasion. The High Priest had to be washed thoroughly, then dressed in his priestly garments. After the sacrificial goat was killed, he went with blood into the Holy of Holies, the earthly dwelling place of the Eternal. The High Priest entered with a right heart and in sanctified garments. Even then, he might have missed some step. Some flaw, some unconfessed sin might cause the Holy One to strike the High Priest dead. The bells alone announced that the spiritual representative of the people still lived. If they stopped, he was to be removed by dragging him with the long sash that extended outside the veil. For anyone else to go behind that curtain meant death. Even the High Priest went only once a year on the Great Day of Atonement.

Zechariah shuddered again. Today, he would be alone just outside that veil. The glorious power of the Almighty would be that near. "Am I ready?" he thought. The question replayed itself over and over as he joined the other priests on duty for the daily cleansing ceremony.

"Am I ready?" He again pondered the enormity of it as he entered one of the two columns of priests and their somber processional moved into the Hall of Hewn Polished Stones. 

Could it be that Elizabeth's failure to conceive was caused by some sin he had committed? Something he had never confessed?

"Am I ready?"

The sacrifice, the cleansing of the Menorah and the preparation of the altar of incense were complete. Zechariah took the pungent incense with him as he walked alone into the Holy Place. His heart beat rapidly as he spread some of incense evenly over the altar. Thoroughly satisfied, he took a flame and began to light the fire. Dark, aromatic smoke rose between him and the veil. It would burn for a long time.

Zechariah paused. On this one day in his life, he was alone just outside the presence of the Almighty. He thought of the faithful whom he had seen praying nearby in the Court of the Women. He watched the cloud of incense, representing the prayers of the people before the Eternal. He felt the sudden urgency to pray the prayer he held in the deepest recesses of his being.

"O Eternal, I confess that I do not understand. I have been given the privilege to burn this incense before You. I have received Your approval to do so as shown by the sacred lot. All my life I have longed for this day. Now that it has arrived, I stand here with a broken heart. O Eternal, please hear my cry! Through the many years of our marriage, my wife Elizabeth has been barren. We have prayed. We have wept and cried out to You. We have sought the help of the physicians. Now, we have been told that it is too late. Please, Eternal, comfort us. We do not understand."

He turned to leave...

To my readers: the events surrounding the birth of Christ are given extensive coverage in Scripture. The parts we don't always know about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' participants. My attempt this Christmas is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the first few chapters of Matthew and Luke. My hope is that reading my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Christmas At Innermost: Zechariah

Part 3

The firelight flickered off the faces of the three kings. "Three kings" was Zechariah's affectionate term for the three priests with whom he had been friends since they were quite young; and that was a long time ago. Zechariah had received his name, meaning "memory of the Lord", because his family line included the Old Testament prophet. His three friends, instead of being given traditional names popular in the lineage of Aaron, were all named for former kings of Judah. Josiah, Asa, and Hezekiah were quick to point out that they were named after some of the few good kings in the nation's pock-marked history.

Two of the three, Asa and Hezekiah, had received the sacred lot for burning incense many years earlier. Josiah and Zechariah were still hoping. As they sat near the fire pot, all of them waited in anticipation for the announcement of those whom The Eternal would mysteriously choose. Every week of duty at the Temple was preceded by this evening of friendly reunions and anxious murmurings; who would be selected this time? Zechariah's stomach was rolling.

"I overheard an argument tonight, Zechariah." Asa leaned in as he spoke in a low voice. "Two young brothers from the north looked ready to fight. One said, 'It is The Eternal who decides the outcome of the lot.' The other angrily pointed to the soldiers nearby. 'Do you believe that The Eternal decides their lot, too? Of course not! If He avoids the lots of the Romans, why would He be concerned about our lots?'"

Hezekiah, obviously listening, turned with a laugh as he burped up his wine. "Remember when we were just like them? We spent many evenings in this very courtyard thinking we could prove our argument once and for all."

"Our arguments mean little now," mused Josiah, "but for Zechariah and me the chances of selection are growing dim."

"Listen," called the court crier, "The lots have been cast and the High Priest will announce the chosen ones!" As one, the entire order rose and crowded near the steps. Each man's eyes and ears were attuned to the solemn announcement. With almost a thousand priests in their order, the four lots per day seemed so few when the priests' service lasted but a week. They only served two weeks a year, meaning that many of them never received the call to burn the incense.

"The first day," recited the High Priest, "the cleansing of the altars and preparation of the fires will be done by Daniel, Uriah from Joppa, Joshua the younger and Eli from Beersheba. The sacrifice, the cleansing of the Menorah and the preparation of the altar of incense will be done by Meshach of Nazareth. The incense burning privilege goes to Nathan the Elder. The altar offerings will be done by Elihu the Bethlehemite."

Day by day the names were read. As each was called out, Josiah's and Zechariah's shoulders slumped even more. Zechariah began to dream of home. At least he could offer his companionship and comfort to Elizabeth.

"On the sixth day, the incense burning belongs to Josiah from Jericho." Zechariah's heart pounded as he watched his old friend began to shake with laughter that quickly turned to deep sobs. At least he could rejoice in the story of Josiah's experience.

"On the Sabbath..." A hush fell over them as they all strained to hear. Every day their ministry was important, but the Sabbath was the holiest day of the week. Selection on that day would be the deepest honor of a priest's lifetime. "And the Sabbath incense burning goes to Zechariah of Hebron." The High Priest paused and look at him. "Our hearts rejoice with you, Zechariah."

The three kings surrounded him, laughing, crying and shouting for joy! Could it be? Did he finally receive The Eternal's favor?

To my readers: the events surrounding the birth of Christ are given extensive coverage in Scripture. The parts we don't always know about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' participants. My attempt this Christmas is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the first few chapters of Matthew and Luke. My hope is that reading my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Christmas At Innermost: Zechariah

Part 2

The midday sun shone brightly in the southern sky. Rays of warmth washed over Zechariah's old coat to push out the last molecules of cold trapped there the previous night. The cot in the ancient inn where they always spent the night was comfortable, but Zechariah felt his years that morning as he mounted his burro for the final miles into Jerusalem. 

The increased traffic coming from and going into the Holy City heightened their anticipation. Somehow the business of merchants and pilgrims helped to dull the harsh awareness of the Valley of Hinnom to their right. The smell of the constantly-burning garbage made Zechariah think of the children who had been sacrificed there by the likes of evil Manasseh. The old man cleared his throat and spat, as if he could rid himself of the smell and the thoughts. How could the Eternal give babies to those who hurt them and close the womb of the righteous? Zechariah wasn't sure he would ever understand.

The road grew even busier as they noticed the towers of Herod's Palace above the city's western walls. They turned the corner and followed the curvature of the hill near the Jaffa Gate. Zechariah's heart quickened as he anticipated the renewed fellowship with some of his closest friends. They had all served in the order of their ancestor Abijah since they were young. Today they would meet at the priest's lodgings and catch up with the latest news from their regions and families as they rested from their journeys. Tomorrow they would prepare their hearts for the week of service that would follow.

"I wonder what will be their response when I tell them Elizabeth's sad news," Zechariah mumbled to himself. Some of the more critical in his order would surely say, "One of you has sinned if the Eternal has judged you thus!" Another would add, "What is wrong that the Lord is blocking your prayers, Zechariah?" Still others would quietly come to him and tell him of some new treatment; a 'miracle cure' being done by a physician in their region.

He hoped his three close friends would just grieve with him.

To my readers: the events surrounding the birth of Christ are given extensive coverage in Scripture. The parts we don't always know about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of Jesus' participants. My attempt this Christmas is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the first few chapters of Matthew and Luke. My hope is that reading my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.

Christmas At Innermost: Zechariah

Part 1

He looked over his shoulder to catch a final glimpse of the lamps burning in the windows of the small, flat-roofed houses. His thoughts, as he rounded the hill and noticed the first glimmer of daylight on the eastern horizon, were of his wife. Her sadness at his departures weighed heavily upon him ever since their reality had struck its final blow. 

"It is too late, Zechariah," she had mumbled on that warm, spring evening several months earlier. "The physicians and the midwives have all said that I am past my opportunity. I can never bear us a child." Her tears fell silently and ceaselessly that night. He fought for words to console her, but she wept still.

He thought about the finality of it as he pulled his cloak tighter against the chill. Riding on, his mind jumped to their goodbye a half-hour ago. Would she never feel joy again? Could she never know that his love for her grew deeper as the years passed, whether she bore him a child or not? 

"Steady," he whispered to his old mule as they wound down the hillside. "You know these rocks are loose. That's right, boy, be sure of your footing."

Each minute the darkened shapes of the hills grew richer with color. The purples of the sunrise were being accompanied by the early-morning songs of sparrows. A coney bounded up the trail just ahead of them. One part of Zechariah's heart wanted to leap with the same joy as this waking morning. "I am on my way to the Temple of the Eternal," he said to himself. "It is once again my privilege to serve as a priest!" But his joy was hidden in the shadows of heartache and disappointment.

His thoughts returned to Elizabeth. Always before, she had sent him to Jerusalem with the whisper, "Perhaps this time the Eternal will answer our prayers and we will have a son!" This morning, however, she handed him his cloak and some food and said simply, "Goodbye, husband."

To my readers: the events surrounding the birth of Christ are given extensive coverage in Scripture. The parts we don't always know about are the human elements, especially from the viewpoint of the participants. My attempt this Christmas is to stay true to the Biblical text, while shading in what it may have been like "between the lines." Please distinguish my ruminations from God's Word by reading the first few chapters of Matthew and Luke. My hope is that reading my words impacts you even a tiny percentage as much as writing them has impacted me.