The Tender Mercy of Our God

December 23, 2022 Georgia Tanner

Zechariah asked the angel, “How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years.”

The angel said to him, "I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news. And now you will be silent and not able to speak until the day this happens because you did not believe my words, which will come true at their appointed time." Luke 1:18-20 NIV

Let us sing the song of Zachariah. Zachariah, old and doubting, his tongue tied so he could not speak. You know this story, don’t you? It is as much a Christmas story as the coming babe in the manger. Read the whole first chapter of Luke, and there you find him, the first one to encounter Gabriel and his good news. His response? Zachariah didn’t just doubt – he challenged God’s own messenger.

He had known his share of heartbreak and disappointment. A priest of the line of Levi awaiting a long life to serve, yet the dice had never rolled his way. His wife, whom he loved, remained childless, their house silent of the laughter of child’s play. And once the miracle had appeared at his doorstep, he doubted God’s goodness, he questioned the angel’s message.

“How do I know? Why should I believe you?” he asked. He listed out for Gabriel the good reasons a miracle could not come his way.

Is that where we find ourselves in this season? Given the opportunity to stand in the presence of one who stands in the presence of God, we hold tightly to reason and reality. I have to admit I have the attitude of Zachariah more often than I have the attitude of Mary. I may be praying for God’s light, but I really am preparing for a long walk in the darkest night. I know those batteries for my flashlight are in here somewhere. The heart-breaking requests I lay before God I carry into my day; my steps fall hard with their impossibility.

Luke begins his story of the light coming into the dark world with the story of an old man who has given up on hope. It is a story of the barrenness of the body and the soul. And maybe of the world. Cue the angel, appearing behind the curtain with old Zachariah telling him his prayer had been heard. Wouldn’t that be enough right there? How often do we cry out to God, assuming our requests go no further than the room we are in? How would we pray if we were convinced God really and truly heard us?

And then there is the answer to the prayer. It had seemed like it would never be coming, but perhaps it was because the answer was so much bigger than the question.

Zechariah and Elizabeth had prayed for a son; God was giving them a son named John who would bring them joy and gladness, yes, but wait, there’s more. Many would rejoice at his birth. “Well, maybe…” Zachariah may have thought fleetingly, but Gabriel isn’t finished with his message. “Many will rejoice for he will be great before the Lord; filled with the Holy Spirit even in his mother’s womb. He will turn many to the Lord their God and he will ‘go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah… to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.’” (Luke 1:17)

Okay. So maybe there was good reason for the long delay, the hopeless nights, the unending waiting. Zachariah had been asking for a son; God was sending a spirit-filled prophet, a voice crying out in the wilderness, preparing the way for something – or someone much bigger, much better.

Today I will skip over the small sleepy town of Nazareth where the young girl Mary will be equally surprised to find Gabriel upending her life and then her immediate journey to find her cousin Elizabeth so they can sing a song to magnify the Lord, as holy babies grow hidden in their wombs. We will skip ahead to when the time comes for dear old Elizabeth to give birth. And eight days later, for all the neighbors and relatives to show up for the ceremony to name the child. Both Elizabeth and the unspeaking Zachariah agree the boy will be named John. "John?" the celebrators question, "Why in the world would you choose that name?"

The words, “I believe; help my unbelief,” have not been spoken yet, but perhaps Zechariah has been living out this strengthening of belief in his silence over the last nine months. He has not spoken for a long time. Was his voice cracked and raspy from lack of use, or did it bellow out with tears of joy? And here it comes, Zachariah’s prophetic psalm praising the Maker of Miracles; “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel!” This was a different declaration from the deep doubt when we last heard him speak.

And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;

for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,

to give his people the knowledge of salvation

through the forgiveness of their sins,

because of the tender mercy of our God,

by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven

to shine on those living in darkness

and in the shadow of death,

to guide our feet into the path of peace." Luke 1:76-79 NIV

Hold onto these prophetic words, these perfect promises of God. Prayers that are heard and answered in ways that will not just change a family but will change the world. The Lord was coming. But before him, one who would prepare the way. Zachariah echoes the announcement of Gabriel. He has arrived!

Not just a son, but a prophet.

Not just to follow in the footsteps of his father Zechariah, but to prepare the path of a coming Messiah, Emmanuel, God with us.

Not just intelligent or wise, but one with the knowledge of coming salvation.

Why? And why now? Was it because of the goodness or the righteousness or the blamelessness from walking in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord? Had Elizabeth and Zechariah been ‘better’, more deserving than everyone else? Had their patient waiting found favor? No. It was because of the tender mercy of our God.

God hears our prayers and answers with better answers than we imagine. We only see our disappointments and unmet hopes and unfulfilled dreams. Our shattered expectations. But God is doing something better. He is bringing light into our darkness. He is bringing life into our death. He is guiding our feet into the way of peace. A peace that will be more than what we can hope for; more than for today and tomorrow, but a peace that will be everlasting.

So, release your prayers into the heavens. God is not distant or silent. We have it on angel authority that God hears. He is unfolding something much more glorious than anything we could imagine. A son named John is preparing the way for a Son named Jesus.