Faith Venture

Well, I’m traveling for Christmas. Anticipation of playing with the grandkids. Flying this year. Surprisingly few people flying out of Dayton today.

Mary traveled at this time, too. Don’t know exactly when she traveled and exactly when she arrived in Bethlehem. But she probably walked and rode a donkey, I suppose. Wonder how many of us could make that trip today given our reliance on luxury cars and airplanes?

And she was full of anticipation, too. But even more so. She was about to give birth. She knew the dangers of childbirth, but given the circumstances of her pregnancy, she must have felt confident. She had a clue about this special child she was carrying. Could she have had any premonition of what was to come during then next 32 or so years?

I’m not a woman, so I’ve never experienced all the emotions surrounding pregnancy and childbirth. I can imagine to a degree based on observation and being around it. We know that Mary pondered many things. She must have been quite meditative as the event approached. Talk about anticipation. She must have tested her patience to the extreme.

Today, I’m pondering the excitement, fear, anticipation, trepidation, joy, wonder that she must have experienced. But she grew into being a strong mother–of that I’m sure. And she brought up a strong man.

A full jar is of no further use. An empty jar is ready to be filled.

This is an ancient teaching. If you want the Spirit to enter your life, you must empty yourself in order for there to be room for the Spirit to reside.

It’s just a few days before Christmas. It’s usually a hectic time for Christians in today’s world. Presents to buy. Dinners to plan. Trips to plan. If your mind is constantly filled with all these thoughts, then where is the Spirit to enter?

To use Advent to prepare to celebrate Jesus’ entry into the world, it is useful to find time every day to stop. Stop the busy-ness. Stop the planning. Stop the worries. Just stop. Rest. Empty your mind by focusing on your breathing and allowing thoughts to drift away.

Now you can meditate on some part  of the Christmas story such as I have been exploring this month. Now you are letting the Spirit fill you. Now you can complete your tasks with a new outlook on life. You can plan that dinner in the Spirit of God rather than out of obligation. You can choose and give gifts out of love rather than simply tradition.

Stop now. Take a few deep breaths. Calm yourself. Focus on Mary preparing the manger to receive her baby.

Luke begins with the stories of two women. Elizabeth and Mary. Both became pregnant. Neither was supposed to. Zechariah, Elizabeth’s husband, fits in the story because he saw the vision that foretold Elizabeth’s pregnancy. Joseph is barely mentioned. Joseph is mentioned in Matthew’s Gospel only say that God informed him of what was happening so he wouldn’t bail out.

So, we have two women. Pregnant. Expecting, we call it. When we say that Advent is a season of preparing for the coming of the Messiah in anticipation, expectation, these two had it—in spades, as they say.

Those nine months had to be an agonizing experience. On the one hand, there was the promise each had received of God. On the other hand, childbirth was a scary experience. No doctors, nurses, drugs, hospitals. Could be fatal. It was wonderful anticipation of God redeeming, but also wonder and uncertainty about what it all meant.

For Elizabeth, it meant that the small-town gossips were quieted. She could have a child. She wasn’t a pariah of God. For Mary, on the other hand, it could well have started the small-town gossips to start up. Mary, you remember was supposed to be a virgin (well, we know she was, but you know how people are…).

Have you ever experienced these emotions? You know change is coming. But will it be positive and exhilarating; or will it be pain and suffering? Or, both? Well, either way, if that change is Jesus in your life, you will be able to bear the burden and overcome.

Luke must have liked Hebrew songs. For, in the first chapter of his book, he records another song. This one is from Zechariah, the father of John called The Baptist.

Let’s think about this one a little. Can you imagine Zechariah going home after his tour of duty at the Temple? Remember, he was chosen by lot to go into the Holy of Holies in the Temple to burn incense and offer prayers and sacrifices to God for the people. Instead, he saw an angel sitting there who told him he was about to become a father. Zechariah had some disbelief, so the angel struck him “dumb” that is, he couldn’t speak.

So, he goes home. Then he tries to tell Elizabeth, his wife, that they need to do what it takes to make a baby because God told him to. But he can’t speak. That must have been interesting. See, Elizabeth was most likely past child-bearing years. An American woman would just say, “Oh, right…” (well maybe not, but I could see that on a TV sitcom in my mind anyway).

However it happens, Elizabeth becomes pregnant. But Zechariah has to stay quiet for nine months. Then when the baby is born and is properly named, Zechariah can suddenly speak. All of this is miraculous and the people around are all amazed.

So does Zechariah say, “Wow, you’d never believe what happened to me in the Holy of Holies.” No, he sings a song. When you’ve had a deep spiritual experience, it’s difficult if not impossible to express it in mere prose. I’ve tried it. Just doesn’t happen.

Zechariah’s song is much different from Mary’s. He first recognizes God for fulfilling his promises given since Abraham to his people. Then he announces what the angel told him–that John will become the Prophet of the Most High announcing the forgiveness of sins. Then he announces the coming Messiah who will “give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

I wonder if he, like Mary, went around singing that song as John grew up. After all, somebody remembered it so they could tell Luke. And songs are written to encourage memorization. But only with repetition. And, when you are in the Spirit, you sing truth you didn’t realize you knew.