From the Secret Place of God

This sermon was for the first Sunday of Advent, the Sunday that we traditionally consider how we are called to wait for things to happen in God's time. While I touch on that in this sermon, my goal is to consider how the story of the Messiah begins very small, like many things that begin small but grow to enormous proportions. Have you experienced that in your life?

Everything big begins as something very small. The giant sequoia, for example, a redwood tree that can grow to a towering height, begins life as a seed no larger than a single flake of oatmeal. The story of the Messiah’s birth is something like that. It begins in secret, announced to one man in a private room; but it grows until even the farthest reaches of the world know the story. The story begins in the Jerusalem Temple, a place both expected and surprising. We might expect the story to begin there because the Temple was considered to be the very dwelling of God as he lived among his people. But it doesn’t begin like we think it would. It doesn’t begin as an announcement to a great crowd of worshippers; it begins as a whispered word to an old priest as he goes about his duties. (Luke 1:5-23) That priest’s name was Zechariah; and he had been waiting for God’s Messiah his entire life.

Actually, all his fellow Israelites had been waiting for the Messiah to appear – and they had been waiting for a very long time. After they were conquered by Babylon, the nation of Israel lost its independence. They lost their king, too. In fact, the descendents of King David didn’t even have a throne to sit on, because Israel was always ruled by another country: first Babylon, then Persia, Greece, and finally Rome. Way back when Israel was first conquered by Babylon, the prophet Isaiah started talking about a Messiah, a new king who would be anointed by God. This Messiah wouldn’t just be a king, though; he would be a King! He would not only rule over God’s people; he would restore them, as well. The trouble was, Isaiah had lived over 400 years before Zechariah’s time; and the Messiah hadn’t so much as poked his nose around a corner. Oh, there were plenty of folks who claimed to be the Messiah; but they never turned out to be the real thing. And so, all Israel waited… and waited… and waited. You know what happens when we have to wait for something for a very long time. We give up hope that what we’re waiting for will ever appear at all. And that’s exactly what happened. To many people, the Messiah had become a lovely dream, but not someone who would ever really appear in the flesh.

And so, on that fateful day, Zechariah the priest went to the Temple to fulfill his priestly duties. It just happened to be his turn to burn the incense. A priest offered incense to God daily in the inner court of the Temple, in a room that was called “the Holy Place.” It was right next door to the Holy of Holies, where God himself lived. Only priests were permitted in the Holy Place. Zechariah had burned incense there hundreds of times before, and nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened. But on this day, as Zechariah was sprinkling incense into the fire, he looked up; and there was an angel, standing next to the altar. An angel! And that angel had a message for Zechariah. His wife Elizabeth, who had been barren all her life, was going to become pregnant and have a son – a son who would prepare the way for the Messiah. Oh, the angel didn’t say that in so many words. He described the child as having “the spirit and power of Elijah.” But in Jewish tradition, Elijah had to come back and prepare the way before the Messiah would appear. And that’s just what the angel said would happen. Zechariah’s child was going to prepare the people for God’s arrival. It was all too much for the old man. He was as stunned as if the angel had hit him over the head with a skillet. His barren wife was going to bear a son… and the boy would be the new Elijah? How could that possibly be? Zechariah, not thinking too clearly, blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Oh, come on now! I’m old and so is my wife. There’s no way she could have a child!” He just couldn’t believe that what the angel’s announcement would really come true.

When we hear good news, we frequently don’t believe it, either. We’re just like Zechariah. We’ve lived with bad news for so long that good news seems like so much wishful thinking. If the phone rings one day and it’s a long-lost relative who wants to meet for lunch, what’s the first thing we think? We usually mutter to ourselves, “I wonder what he wants.” We probably wouldn’t rejoice in the possibility that he might want to restore the broken relationship. We’re too cynical to have that kind of hope. We’ve seen too much, and been around the block once too often. But hope is what God is all about; and God sent that angel to Zechariah to offer him the kind of hope that we can’t get on our own.

But Zechariah’s response didn’t sit too well with the angel – who, by the way turned out to be none other than Gabriel, God’s right-hand messenger. “Fine,” said Gabriel, “you don’t believe me? I brought you wonderful news. If you don’t believe it, then you’re not going to get the chance to tell everyone about it!” And in less time than it takes to tell the story, Zechariah was struck as silent as a stone. Gabriel’s secret would remain a secret for nine more months, until Zechariah’s child was born – the child who would grow up to be John the Baptist.

It’s appropriate, if you think about it. The greatest secret of all time was revealed to an old man in a private room in the Temple. How like God to begin the story in one room with one man. It’s just like the story that began with the one man Abraham, or the story that began with the one man Noah, or the story that began with the one man Adam. God always starts small, just like that giant redwood that begins life as a tiny seed. Most of us don’t take little things too seriously, though. If we are presented with a big plan, complete with goals, budget, and implementation timeline, we say, “Wow! That sounds really good!” But if we hear about something small, just the first glimmerings of an idea, we tend to frown and mutter, “Yeah, good luck with that. It’ll never work.” In the end, though, that big plan usually falls over under its own weight. But the things that begin small… they might just flourish and bear fruit. Remember that Jesus compared the Kingdom of God not to a federal budget proposal, but to a mustard seed.

As we begin this year’s Advent journey towards Bethlehem, it’s worth remembering that the story of the Messiah in our own lives begins small, as well. We don’t meet Jesus with the fanfare of a parade and a brass band. We first meet him in the secret places of our own heart. And when we do, it’s a very small thing. Sometimes we don’t even realize that we’ve met Jesus at all – not until long afterwards. But if we receive him and allow him to take root in our heart, his influence grows and grows and grows until it reaches into every nook and cranny of our life. It grows until it’s as big and sturdy and sheltering as a giant redwood tree!

Do we believe that this Christmas, the Messiah will be born again in each one of us? Are we really expecting him to appear? Or are we more like Zechariah? Do we believe that this Christmas will be just like all the others – glittery, commercial, and just a product of Madison Avenue? Well, I can’t answer that question for you. But I can suggest that as you journey through Advent this year, you open your eyes and stay alert. Who knows? When you least expect it, you might encounter an angel who has very good news to announce to you!