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.

A Time To Remember

I was working in my yard a few weeks ago and needed some parts for my drip irrigation system.  A local WalMart is just a couple of miles away so I headed over there the night before to purchase the parts and some other items.  I stepped into their large garden center and noticed they had trimmed their selections down to a bare minimum.  To make room for Christmas decorations!

My middle name is NOT Ebenezer.  I love the beauty of this season, even living in a place where many "snowbirds" run around in shorts and tee shirts all winter.  But give me a break.  I found none of my needed parts.  They obviously were back in storage somewhere so the store could sell those decorations.  I had to go out early the next morning and purchase the irrigation parts at a store which specializes in them. I should have started there in the first place.

A couple of years ago, I began to think about the original Christmas.  I tried to separate my thoughts from the cluttered, commercialized version of our current day and go back 2,000 years.  What must it have been like for the very real people whose lives were intersected by angels and thus became the cast of the drama which stands at the center of history?  What did they feel?  What did the unfolding mystery mean to them?  I tried to enter their lives with a story that helps me think about the impact of The Birth as they may have experienced it.

I have called my story Christmas At Innermost.  I hope you will join me this Sunday as it begins...

A Mighty, Rushing Wind

The clear, hot skies of morning surrendered to growing afternoon darkness yesterday. Clouds that had begun boiling up over the mountains east of us gradually covered the heavens. I paid little attention until suddenly...SUDDENLY...a raging torrent of air began to rattle the windows of our office.

Most likely a microburst (they are common here) that lasted maybe a minute. Then someone came to my office door to announce what had happened near the entry to our auditorium.

"The wind blows where it wants to and you hear the sound of it, but you don't know where the wind comes from or where it is going. It is the same with every person who is born from the Spirit." (John 3:8 New Century Version)

In recent times I am seeing it over and over. The wind of God's Spirit blows into the life of a Christ-follower and changes everything. Old norms are turned upside-down and God (not religion, not rules) makes everything new. I never cease being amazed at the power of it.

Raise The Bar

I lifted my arm in a wave as I passed two women on the jogging path at a local park. "I wonder if they noticed how relaxed I am as I zoom past them," I wondered with a bit of pride. I was in fairly good shape and felt great as I glided along. Just after I went around them, I turned on a gravel road to exit the back side of the park and make my way to a canal bank on the way home.

There, blocking vehicle access from the road to the park, was a chain stretched out about a foot above the ground. "I'll just hop over that," I said to myself while taking long strides, "and head down the road. Almost home!"

SPLAT!

The next thing I knew, I was picking myself up from the gravel, road rash on hands, knees and one shoulder. I was still wondering about the people I passed just moments before. "I'm sure they are really impressed now!" I was also hearing a voice in my head say, "Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." Some lesson!

Obviously I'm not the one to talk about today's subject. How can I speak about raising the bar if I can't even jump it when it's ridiculously low? Well, I hope I'm in a little better shape to speak of it as a value we hold at Stone Ridge Church. I'll be careful as I talk about it, though. I remember the thing about pride, destruction and falling.

Our church has sought ways to communicate to people, "Come as you are!" But we try to show the goodness of God not to leave us like we are. Many of us sought God because our lives were a mess. Following Jesus is far more than simply changing our eternal location; it's changing the way we live our lives every day. Most of us, if we are honest, desperately need God to make some changes in us.

Raising the spiritual bar is not God's way of increasing the requirements we must meet to experience His forgiveness. It is, however, a lifetime of spiritual stretching exercises that God Himself often orchestrates to conform us to the image of Christ (Romans 12:2). Inch by spiritual inch, He keeps developing our character, helping us live like the new creation He designed us to be.

Here's the problem and it's the reason we specifically stated "Raise the Bar" as a Stone Ridge value. Far too many churches get stuck in spiritual ruts. Communities that were once vibrant and growing have settled into the spiritual doldrums.

One reason, I believe, is that the requirements for spiritual leaders aren't much different than the requirements for church membership. A few outward signs of commitment (like attending, giving and serving) are enough to be a spiritual leader. No one stops to see if the character of Jesus is being formed in them. No one asks that Biblical requirements for leaders, listed in books like 1 Timothy and Titus, be present for one to lead.

If the leaders don't have spiritual passion, no wonder the church spends most of its time wounded on the gravel road rather than racing along a God-designed spiritual journey.

Don't Stay Where You Are

I knew him when he was in his middle years. The challenges of a growing family, the responsibilities of a high-demand job and the extra load of a side business seemed to occupy his time. His involvement in church was hit and miss, though I could sense that he had an earlier season when his heart burned bright with hope and vision of reaching his community with the love of Christ.

The metaphor of a siding off a major rail line comes to mind. At one time this man had obviously been going down the track with great joy, but the worries and cares of life (along, perhaps, with the deceitfulness of riches) had captured his attention and he chose to dwell on the siding.

The siding can be fine for very short stays. It's where we can be repaired so we can get back on the rail and into fully serving our purpose. But there is something insidious, even diabolical, about the siding as a permanent stop in our spiritual lives.

The ugliness of the siding was seen clearly by the time I knew the man. As he watched the trains of spiritual life roll past him, he used his considerable influence to discourage others around him from getting back on track. His long tenure in the place where he lived had given him the ear of many who, like him, had taken a respite along the side rail. Like him, they lingered there until they considered the siding the normal place for spiritual travelers and voiced their disdain for any and all who dared stay on the main tracks and move past them.

Tragically, the man I have described was real. Sadly I tell you that I believe his heart once burned with desire to keep moving as he followed Christ. With a broken heart, I tell you that I watched him slow (and sometimes stop) the spiritual progress of an entire church.

Unfortunately, he was also an Everyman of sorts. He represents a bloated and ever-growing number of people who have left their first love for an empty life on the side. The siding is deceptive; make sure it doesn't fool you.

"Don't Stay Where You Are." It's our second value at Stone Ridge Church.