How to see a miracle

Sometimes accepting a blessing means giving up life as we know it.

And so Zecharias comes to the temple, carrying with him the echoes of little voices he once dreamed of teaching to pray, the shadows of small hands and feet that would have followed him in his work. He wears the sorrow now as familiar as his priestly robes, disappointment woven through the fabric of his days.

And the angel appears, and in spite of his astonishment he simply cannot will his heart to believe. Hope long ago became too painful.

Living with disappointment is easier than opening his heart again.

But oh, Zecharias, this story is so much bigger than you, and if only you knew how your pain will be transformed into brightest, glorious joy.

And God will take your voice away and give you the gift of simply watching Him work. All your words of reason and doubt will be silenced. Elisabeth’s belly will swell while your own heart fills with the laughter that bursts right out of her, the wife of your youth whose arms have so long been empty. You will watch her eyes shine and see the heads wagging in wonder and you will understand something new.

And God, He will laugh too, holiest joy when all that sorrow blossoms and blooms and lays you open to purest wonder.

He is preparing the way right now, right in your heart, and when your son is placed into your arms, the first words from your new-forged faith will speak his name, the wild truth of it: John. “Jehovah is a gracious giver.”

And you won’t be able to stop them, words flowing from the wonder of this love, words from God Himself who yearns toward us to tell of His love that reached down into the womb of an old woman, this miracle that is only the beginning of miracles, the son whose birth is being proclaimed for miles around even as His own Son swells the womb of another.

And all that sorrow, all those days of pain lie like paving-stones pointing the way to this.

Maybe the pain scoops out the hard places, creates the space for Him to fill. Maybe the tears soften us to receive Him, like rain in the desert.

When we stop asking and only watch and believe, then He comes.