An Abundance of Grace

 Judgment

    In Luke chapter 1 (the introduction to the story of Jesus’ birth) Zechariah the priest enters the temple to burn incense to the Lord. A few minutes later the angel Gabriel suddenly appears to him. He tells Zechariah that his wife, Elizabeth, will have a son, then reveals some details about the child: the name to give him (John, later known as the Baptist), the joy he’ll bring, and the effects of his ministry.

    Zechariah responds with doubt. “How can I be sure of this?” Like many of the people in the Old Testament who were confronted with an unexpected prophecy or command, he wants a sign to confirm the words. Unlike those Old Testament examples, Gabriel has no sympathy for his request. “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 proper time.”

    I’ve always thought this was a bit harsh.

    Look how Moses argued with God at the burning bush. They had an extended conversation before the Lord’s anger finally burned (Exodus 3:1-4:14). Look how Gideon asked for a sign to confirm God’s leading. Not once, but twice. God patiently granted both signs (Judges 6:36-40). Why does Zechariah deserve such severe judgment? I’ve always kind of felt sorry for him, as if God was being unfair.

Justice

    But then I started looking at the context of Gabriel’s words. Zechariah is in the temple for the purpose of burning incense to the Lord. The sweet smoke rising to God symbolizes prayer. Outside, the people are praying, along with the other priests. Inside, Zechariah is praying. What is he praying for?

    One of the first things Gabriel tells him is, “Your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son.” Has Zechariah been praying for a child at this very moment? Standing in the temple. Burning the holy incense. Making a personal, heartfelt request to God. Then questioning the angel sent by the Lord to bring him the news that that prayer has been answered. Maybe he should have had a little more faith.

    Moses and Gideon were both approached in an unexpected time and place. Zechariah is actively seeking God’s intervention in his childless life. Not quite the same circumstances. Maybe God’s judgment is just after all.

Grace

    But maybe there’s also some grace in His response. Zechariah doesn’t specifically say, “Give me a sign.” However, his words, “How can I be sure of this?” are a typical biblical way of expressing that request. Is God, in His grace, giving Zechariah a sign, as He did for Moses and Gideon? Maybe. Maybe Zechariah’s forced silence is not just a judgment, but also the sign that he longs for in order to bolster his feeble faith.

    What if Gabriel had simply announced his news to Zechariah and then disappeared? Would Zechariah have believed? Would he have burst out of the temple, run to the people, sought out Elizabeth, and joyfully shared his vision with anyone who would listen? Maybe. Maybe not.

    Maybe he would have wandered slowly outdoors with a skeptical look on his face, taken his wife aside, hesitantly described what had happened, voiced his doubts, and waited anxiously to see if Gabriel’s words would be fulfilled. And maybe, even if Elizabeth did get pregnant, Zechariah would have toyed with the idea that it was just a coincidence.

    But with his inability to speak, all of his doubts vanish. It’s a powerful, tangible sign that something very real has happened. He hasn’t just imagined his encounter. It wasn’t wishful thinking. His paralyzed vocal cords testify to the solid certainty of the events.

    How often do I read God’s Word and half-consciously question His truth, His goodness, His grace? As with this story of Zechariah, I have a very human tendency to judge the Judge, to lean on my own understanding of what justice looks like. To deem God’s judgment unjust, harsh, inferior to my own sense of fair play.

    But when I do that, I’m not only elevating myself above His perfection, I’m also missing an opportunity to see His grace. Zechariah didn’t deserve to receive a reassuring sign that Gabriel’s words would be fulfilled. He’d just failed a major test of his faith. He’d stood before the holy God, in a part of the temple that only the sanctified and purified priests could enter, asking Him for a child. When the Lord clearly declared that his request would be fulfilled, what did Zechariah do? He refused to believe it.

    Priests could be struck dead for approaching the Lord in an unworthy manner. What could be more unworthy than the hypocrisy of voicing a prayer while hardening his heart against the possibility that God might actually provide what Zechariah so desperately wanted? He hadn’t earned the right to receive a sign confirming the prophecy.

    Yet there it was. In his own body. With him every moment of every day, reminding him of the certainty of God’s promise. A promise Zechariah had openly questioned.

    This is grace. This is the grace I need to see in every passage of the Bible. When I approach God’s Word with my own preconceived ideas of who He should be, how He should act, what He should say, all I see is harsh, undeserved judgment. But when instead I allow the Holy Spirit to open my eyes to His truth, I see an abundance of grace flowing from a compassionate and understanding God.