Let me sit with You, and please remind me of those servants from a long time ago that spoke of these great things, and the servants that saw with their own eyes Your paws in that great, to-be-remembered city we celebrate at Christmastime. At that time, when You came here, Your breath was short and quick because You were new, and Your eyes were set in a way that made Your mother love You, and want to feed You with her milk. Tell me, please, while I sit under the warmth of Your chest, this whole true story. Do not cut me with Your claws, but instead embrace me with them so that I might not be cut with anything else.
Read Luke 1:1 - 25.
Zechariah comes to You, and tends to You in obedience. His family of Aaron knows the traditions of his people, and he is a part of that. Does he enjoy this? Does he love this? Does he bring You beautiful images and sweet-smelling stuff to make You grin? Does he delight in You, the way You delight in him?
His wife, Elizabeth, she worships You and is found blameless, too, yet she cries. She hurts. She probably calls out to You, so you listen and we know You hear her. You hear Elizabeth with powerful, soft ears. You listen to cries of embarrassment . You plant the longing to hold an infant. Then, why so long? Why do You wait so long to give them a child of their own? I know women that wait now, and it kills me. You don't make a mistake in giving them the desire to give birth, to hold a baby, to raise a child of their own. So why do You wait so long? To not keep a baby is one thing, to not even make one is another. Answer this, beautiful Beast.
Zechariah comes to You. Others pray outside. Maybe they pray for Your gentle mercy. Maybe they pray that Your dangerous teeth will not snatch them away to be torn apart. But instead of that horrible nightmare, You send beautiful Gabriel, Your messenger. You know this will frighten Zechariah. Why do You do things like this? To remind us that You are a Beast? Your messenger tells Zechariah the news, but like so much of what You say, it is unbelievable. Zechariah simply isn't able to believe in John. What's in a name if the father can't believe he'll exist? We name our lost little ones, too, Lord. Do You assign these names to them? Or do You send Gabriel to give them titles: maybe regal titles reserved for those who have not lived in this world at all.
John is coming in Your story. You know him before he comes. You know him before he is conceived, before he is created, before his little baby heart begins to beat. We value the living because You roar over the lives that have yet to be created. We love Your lion heart, and we long to know what that sort of loving really feels like. Make our hearts ready. Prepare us for Your running down the hill, for Your giant leaps and bounds, for Your rolling around in what is good, and for Your shaking it all over us. It will be a sight that will frighten us, and we will scream out in the thrill that will pour out of us at the sight of You. Glorious, gorgeous You.
There will be people that will not understand what is happening to us. They will stand outside Your holy temple, and ask questions and say things like, "They have seen visions." May it be true of us. May we hear Your angel's voice giving assurance. May we be so overcome with Your beauty, and overcome with a holy fear of You, that we are unable to speak.
Elizabeth waits in seclusion, now. There are many of us that wait in fear of what's growing inside of us. We fear losing the heartbeat, and hide away from others who don't seem to be afraid of their own pregnancies. May we anticipate John, too, and look forward to Your bounding into David's birth city. May we shout at the top of our crying lungs when You are born, and say "The Lord has done this for me. In these days he has shown his favor and taken away my disgrace among the people."
Because You are real, and You are coming soon.