Zacharias’ Benedictus (Luke 1:57–80) — The Songs of Advent

By the time we come to the opening pages of the New Testament, the Jews of the first century had not heard the voice of their

God for over 400 years. It was in approximately 435 BC that God had last spoken to his people through the prophets when he did so through Malachi, the final book of the

Old Testament scriptures. And it's in the Gospels of the New Testament that God breaks that silence.

And he does that in fairly remarkable ways through these early chapters of Luke's Gospel. As we saw last week, as we look closer at the

Magnificat, the song of the Virgin Mary after she is told that she'll give birth to Jesus, the Son of the

Highest, the one who will reign as king forever. We saw that this moment in history that divides

Old and New Testament, that divides time itself between BC and AD, represents a major climactic moment.

The birth of Jesus is a world -changing event, and the way in which the Bible presents it is no small matter.

God, as he breaks his silence, does so with a flurry. And last week, as we said, we started in the

Songs of Advent series with Mary's Magnificat because her song is the first in the narrative of Luke chapter 1.

But her encounter with this flurry of intervention from God is not actually the first in the narrative.

Rather, as we'll consider today, and we actually read in our New Covenant reading earlier, the silence was first broken with Zacharias, the husband of Mary's cousin

Elizabeth. And today, we're going to focus primarily on Zacharias' song, his Benedictus, in verses 57 through 80.

Hear the word of the Lord. Now Elizabeth's full time came that she should be delivered.

And she brought forth a son, and her neighbors and her cousins heard how the Lord had showed great mercy upon her, and they rejoiced with her.

And it came to pass that on the eighth day, they came to circumcise the child, and they called him

Zacharias after the name of his father. And his mother answered and said, Not so, but he shall be called

John. And they said unto her, There is none of thy kindred that is called by this name. And they made signs to his father how he would have him called.

And he asked for a writing table and wrote, saying, His name is John. And they marveled all.

And his mouth was opened immediately, and his tongue loosed, and he spake and praised God. And fear came on all that dwelt round about them.

And all these sayings were noised abroad throughout all the hill country of Judea. And all they that heard them laid them up in their hearts, saying,

What manner of child shall this be? And the hand of the Lord was with him. And his father,

Zacharias, was filled with the Holy Ghost, and prophesied, saying, verse 68 here. This is where the song begins.

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he hath visited and redeemed his people, and hath raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant

David, as he spake by the mouth of his holy prophets, which have been since the world began, that we should be saved from our enemies, and from the hand of all that hate us, to perform the mercy promised to our fathers, and to remember his holy covenant, the oath which he swore to our father

Abraham, that he would grant unto us that we being delivered out of the hand of our enemies might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all the days of our life.

And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the highest, for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation unto his people by the remission of their sins, through the tender mercy of our

God, whereby the day spring from on high hath visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.

And the child grew and waxed strong in spirit, and was in the deserts till the day of his showing unto

Israel. Thus ends the reading of God's holy word. May he write it on our hearts by faith. Let's pray.

Father, we thank you again for your word this afternoon and ask your continued blessing in our time,

Lord, that you would, as you only are able, Lord, remove any encumbrances or weights that would distract us from the truths of your scripture this afternoon.

We ask, again, your continued blessing in our time, that your spirit would move mightily here in your people and strengthen us for the work that you have for us.

In Jesus' name, and amen. Amen. Now, by the time that Zacharias opens his mouth in this passage,

God has been silent for centuries, and Israel has had nothing to listen to but the echo of old promises.

The last prophet had laid down his pen, the last word from heaven had been spoken, and then the people of God were left with their

Bibles and their memories. The scrolls still said Abraham, David, covenant, mercy, but history seemed to be saying something else entirely.

Rome was on the throne, Herod was on the throne, Caesar was issuing decrees, and no angel had shown up for a very long time.

And yet, here's the remarkable thing. When Zacharias finally speaks, he does not sound like a man surprised by grace.

He sounds like a man relieved by it. He does not improvise new theology, he does not say, well, no one saw this coming.

Instead, his first word is, blessed. And what follows is not a brand new idea, but a great avalanche of remembered promises.

God, he says, has visited and redeemed his people, and he has done so as he spake by the mouth of his holy prophets, which have been since the world began.

The silence has been broken, but the song is the old covenant song, now at last moving into its final verse.

This is what Advent is for. Advent is not the church playing make -believe with candles while retail stores play

Christmas carols in November. Advent is the season in which we remember what it is like to wait on the covenant

God when he appears to be quiet. And we remember that his apparent quiet is not forgetfulness, but ripening.

The seed of promise is under the soil. The oath to Abraham is still there in the ground.

The house of David still stands in the mind of God, even if the house itself looks more like a shack than a palace.

Zacharias, filled with the Holy Spirit, looks at the birth of his own son, and he sees the whole covenant story coming to a head.

He speaks of the oath which he swore to our father Abraham, of mercy promised to the fathers, of deliverance from enemies, so that the people of God might serve him without fear and holiness and righteousness before him all the days of our life.

This is covenant language from top to bottom. Advent, in other words, is not sentimental waiting.

It's covenant anticipation. It's the church standing where Zacharias stood with one foot still in the long night, and the other foot feeling the first warmth of the coming dawn.

So we notice how he understands the birth of John. John is not the main event. He's the proof that the main event is upon them.

He says, And so as we consider

Zacharias' Benedictus together, I want us to see how this song teaches us to live in that same covenant anticipation.

We're going to consider first that long silence in God's covenant faithfulness, second, John's role as forerunner, and then third, and finally,

Christ as that dayspring who sends us as light into the world. If I could have us to appreciate anything in this

Advent season, it would be how intricately connected the Old and New Testaments are meant to be understood.

Foolishly, much of the Christian church today has unhitched itself from the Old Testament because of confusing passages, strange laws, and difficult histories, but these early saints of the

Christian age didn't make that same mistake. Just as we saw last week in Mary's Magnificat, Zacharias is explicit in his understanding of and appreciation for the

Old Covenant history as he interprets all that's happening to him in faith. And while last week

Mary's and our focus was more on the promises to Abraham and his seed, which is Christ, this week, we're going to be a little bit more focused on the illusions that we see in this text and in the life of Zacharias and in his son,

John the Baptist, to the exodus from Egypt. Again, Advent is all about anticipation, that holy waiting for God to make his move.

And this isn't rare for God. This isn't a new way in which he's interacting with us.

God is patient. His moves are deliberate, right? They're never rushed when it comes to his promises.

To feel the weight of Zacharias' song, we need to feel the weight of waiting like this.

This kind of waiting is not new, again, for God's people, and we do well to remember the words of Peter in 2 Peter 3 at verses 8 and 9.

Peter says, But beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years and a thousand years as one day.

The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness, but is longsuffering.

He's patient toward us, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance.

God is not a stranger to patience. As it suits his purposes, he's pleased even to be patient for the right time to move the fulfillment of his promises along.

Already today, I've mentioned that as we open to the New Testament, we're entering into about 430 years of silence from God to his people.

No prophets, no books, no letters in over four centuries, and yet this type of prolonged waiting is not new.

In fact, as we turn, if you would, to Exodus chapter 12 and verse 40, we find another instance of that near -identical silent period.

As we see the Israelites beginning their exodus from Egypt, we're reminded of the length of their captivity there in Egypt, when

Moses writes, again, Exodus 12, verse 40. Now, the sojourning of the children of Israel who dwelt in Egypt was 430 years.

Again, 430 years. For 430 years, the people of God have found themselves in Egypt in the house of bondage.

They had come out of their land that God had given their fathers to find sustenance and famine, only to never leave and never return home.

Held captive by foreign rulers and wondering whether God still hears them.

In the same way, this is the setting of Zacharias and the Jews of the first century. 430 years of silence from their

God, waiting for redemption, trusting that the promised deliverance from their enemies would someday come.

And what does God do? Well, in Egypt, God meets Moses in the burning bush in Exodus chapter 3.

We read, starting in verse 6, And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look upon God.

And the Lord said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters, for I know their sorrows.

And I come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land and a large, unto a land flowing with milk and honey, unto the place of the

Canaanites, and the Hittites, and the Amorites, and the Perizzites, and the Hivites, and the Jebusites. Now therefore, behold, the cry of the children of Israel has come unto me, and I have also seen the oppression wherewith the

Egyptians oppressed them. Come now therefore, and I will send thee unto Pharaoh, that thou mayest bring forth my people, the children of Israel, out of Egypt.

In the course of all this time, centuries of waiting, the people of God may have become convinced that he had forgotten about them.

But we must know better. We must never lose hope in those seasons of silence and uncertainty.

For God says to Moses, I have surely seen the affliction of my people, and I've heard their cry, and I know their sorrows.

For the cry of the children of Israel has come unto me, and I have seen the oppression. Just as God said these words to Moses, he says them to us, his church, the

Israel of God. Our God is not aloof. He is not out of office, on vacation, taking a break.

He knows the troubles of his people. He sees us, he hears us, and he knows us, for we are his children, and he does not forsake his children.

And again, we see this is much the same that we have in view in Luke chapter 1, as the angel Gabriel visits

Zacharias and says in verse 13, fear not, Zacharias, for thy prayer is heard. God hears his people, and he intercedes for them in history.

And so as God breaks into the silence, he doesn't do so by jumping straight to the

Passover or to the cross, but by first choosing a messenger. In Egypt, it was

Moses and his brother Aaron. In first century Judea, it's Zacharias and his son, John the

Baptist. But for both, they are preparing the way for the Lamb. In Zacharias, God comes to the priest through the angel and gives him gospel.

He gives him good news, that joy and gladness is coming because the Lord is on the move. Go tell everyone what's about to happen, you'd imagine, right?

You're going to have a son. He's going to turn the people back to their God. He's going to be filled with the Holy Spirit, even in his mother's womb.

Go tell everyone before it happens so that they know it's true. But no, that's not what happens, right?

Instead, God silences Zacharias for his doubting of the angel. In verse 18 of Luke 1,

Zacharias replies to all that Gabriel says is going to happen for John. He says, It'd be like holding a plate in a buffet line and asking how

I'm supposed to get this food to my table. You're standing in front of an angel who's in front of you in the temple of God.

You would think that Zach would understand what's going on in front of him. It'd be pretty certain to happen.

This angel is delivering this message. It shouldn't be much confusion. But he doubts, right? And God gives consequence through Gabriel by bringing a light judgment to Zacharias.

What is the judgment? He makes him dumb, meaning he can't speak until the day that these things shall be performed.

And it's ironic to me because, again, God could have had this man proclaim his word well in advance. But instead, he establishes

Zacharias as a kind of silent prophet, God breaking his prophetic silence to his people with this kind of typologically silent prophet.

And, again, we see this similarity with Moses even in that he had his own speech deficiencies.

Exodus chapter 4 and verse 10, Now, if we didn't know any better, we might be tempted to think that maybe there are better choices out there for prophets.

There are better orators, more talented speakers with louder voices and pithier punchlines.

Or even, in the case of Zacharias, prophets who can at least talk and share the message. But does

God not know? How do we, in these critical moments of visitation and deliverance, keep ending up with dumb and doubting prophets?

God responds to Moses in verses 11 and 12, God knows.

He knows who his people are. He knows who he is commissioning. And God wills it. And as he breaks his perceived silence, he's pleased to do so through broken earthen vessels like you and me.

And we'll do well to take note of this. When we doubt whether God can use us, we question the wisdom of God.

And we trust him and trust in his ability to make us ready and to give us the things to say and the things to do.

And so what looks like a strange delay, right, in an odd silent priest in Zacharias, is actually

God staging a living parable. And out of that parable comes Zacharias' interpretation of what

God is doing when he sings later, he hath visited and redeemed his people. Again, Zacharias represents in so many ways for us the silent period, the intertestamental period, where God seems silent, and yet he is saying something quite profound, and it's preparing the way for the one who would come to prepare the way.

Now, as we close the book on this Exodus connection, and the way in which God, the covenant -keeping

God, brings salvation to his people, again, who have gone generations without hearing from him,

I encourage you to think of it in this way. History doesn't repeat itself, but it does often rhyme, as they say.

And God is a God of patterns. He likes to tell the same kind of story twice, only louder the second time.

Israel and Egypt did 430 years in the dark. They went down into Egypt on the strength of a promise to Abraham, and then the promise seems to stall out.

No fresh word, no new covenant document, just a memory of what God had said in the growing ache of slavery.

Their days were full of brick quotas, but their nights were full of old stories about Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

And outwardly, it looked like Pharaoh was in charge, but inwardly, God was quietly counting the years.

And as we fast forward here to Luke, once again, God's people have done roughly 430 years in the dark.

Malachi closed the Old Testament with a promise. A coming messenger and a coming Lord. And then the heavens went quiet.

No prophet, no new scripture, just the synagogue readings and the old scrolls. And outwardly, Rome is in charge,

Herod is in charge, Caesar is in charge. And yet inwardly, God is again quietly counting the years.

In both stories, the pattern is the same. A long, grinding wait under foreign power. Egypt then and Rome now.

The people of God apparently forgotten, but in fact remembered down to the last tear. And the covenant promise is apparently stalled, but in fact ripening on God's timetable, not theirs.

And then at the end of the 430, God comes down in both texts and breaks the silence.

In Exodus, he comes down in a burning bush and sends Moses to say, let my people go. And in Luke, he comes down in Gabriel's announcements and in a virgin's womb.

And John the Baptist is sent to cry, prepare ye the way for the Lord. Moses was a deliverer out of Egypt.

Jesus is a deliverer out of sin and death. The first 430 years end with a Passover lamb and an

Exodus from the house of bondage. The second 430 years end with the lamb of God and an

Exodus from the bondage of sin. And so the similarity is not just in the matching numbers, though that is very interesting.

As if scripture was giving us this little bit of Bible trivia. Stick that in your cap, hold it for later.

The point is that God governs history covenantally. He lets his people sit in the dark long enough to learn that they cannot save themselves.

And then right on schedule, he blows the door off. The first time the Red Sea splits, the second time the heavens split, and angels sing over Bethlehem.

Same God, same covenant faithfulness, same deliberate patience, and same thunderclap deliverance. Only the second

Exodus makes the first one look like a dress rehearsal. And so we ought not to miss the way that these two periods preach the same sermon to us.

That in both Egypt and Judea, the central note is that God visits and God redeems. He does not mail in a set of instructions from a distance.

He comes down. He says, I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians to Moses.

And in Zacharias' mouth, it becomes, he hath visited and redeemed his people, and the day spring from on high hath visited us.

The overlap is deliberate. The God who stepped into Egypt's darkness steps into Judea's darkness in the same fashion.

Only now the visitation is not by fire in a bush but by flesh in a manger. The redemption is not just from brick pits and taskmasters but from sin, death, and the devil.

The first Exodus shows us that when God visits, he always comes with a strong arm to redeem.

And the second shows us that when God visits in Christ, he comes with pierced hands to redeem forever.

Now, with that pattern in our minds, right, that this two long nights and this God who visits and redeems his covenant faithfulness in both situations, it's with this in mind that I want us to interpret

Zacharias' song. So in many ways, that was my introduction. We're just getting started. I joke.

But we listen again to the way that Zacharias sings about his own son in the coming dawn. Again, his son has been born, given the name that the angel instructed, that being

John. And Zacharias' tongue is loose. He's able to speak. He's no longer dumb.

He breaks out in prophetic song, the scripture says. It is interesting. John is not the first prophet of the

New Testament. Scripture says that Zacharias prophesied. He was a prophet of God in this

Old Covenant period here in the opening chapter of Luke. He sings him, starting in verse 68.

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he hath visited and redeemed his people. Again, this is that visited and redeemed.

This is a very intentional carryover that Zacharias and the Spirit are employing here. It's connected to those

Exodus themes. He continues in verse 69. And hath raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant

David, as he spake by the mouth of his holy prophets, which have been since the world began, that we should be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all that hate us, to perform the mercy promised to our fathers, and to remember his holy covenant, the oath which he swore to our father

Abraham, that he would grant unto us, that we, being delivered out of the hand of our enemies, might serve him without fear in holiness and righteousness before him all the days of our life.

Just like we saw with Mary last week, Zacharias' blessing is filled with the application of the Old Covenant history and implications.

He understood, and we do well to learn from him in this, that what God is doing in this time was fulfillment, not replacement.

And so he starts with this acknowledgment. He starts with the work of God. When Zacharias opens his mouth after months of providential silence, he doesn't waste breath on small talk.

He goes straight to the covenant, which is exactly where any man with his wits about him ought to go when God shows up to do something.

The first thing out of his mouth is blessing. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel. Not blessed be my son, or blessed be me for finally getting my voice back.

No, the spotlight says where it belongs, or stays where it belongs, excuse me, on the God who keeps his word.

We notice the architecture of what Zacharias says here. He's not inventing anything. He's standing in a long hall of promises, and he's pointing backward and forward at the same time.

He hath raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David. That's kingship language.

A horn is power, strength, military victory. But in this case, it's not brute force.

It's covenantal force. It comes from David's house because God swore that it would.

Again, this isn't plan B. This has been the plan since the prophets started talking, since the world began,

Zacharias says. The salvation that Zacharias has in view is not some abstraction, not some inner glow or therapeutic self -improvement.

It's deliverance from our enemies, and from the hands of all that hate us. Real enemies, real hatred, real rescue.

God is not in the business of leaving his people under the boot. He breaks the boot. That's what kings do when they love their people and they hate injustice.

But here's the point that we more civilized moderns, I think, tend to miss. The purpose of the rescue is not so that we can all go home and watch television in peace.

Look at verse 74. Salvation is for service.

Freedom is for obedience. You're not delivered so you can do whatever you want. You're delivered so you can finally do what you were made for, worship the true

God and the beauty of holiness without some tyrant's sword at your back. And this whole thing, every bit of it, is covenant through and through.

Again, Zacharias calls it the mercy promised to our fathers, the remembering of his holy covenant, the oath sworn to our father

Abraham. God doesn't wake up one morning and decide to be nice. He acts according to oath.

He remembers what he swore. It's not a memory problem on God's part. It's covenant theology.

He binds himself by his word, and then he performs what he promised. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, David, they're not footnotes.

They're load -bearing walls in the house that God is building, and Christ is the cornerstone.

And the upshot is this, that if you want to understand what God is doing in the incarnation, you'd better know your Old Testament.

You'd better know the oaths. You'd better see that the birth of John the Baptist, the virgin birth of Jesus, the manger, the cross, the empty tomb, all of it is

God keeping his word to the fathers. It's not a pivot. It's not a reboot. It's fulfillment.

The horn of salvation in David's house is Jesus, and he comes not to start something novel, but to finish what was promised from the beginning.

This is what Zacharias is celebrating as he sings, particularly in those early verses.

And then he closes his song. He pivots in verse 76. We notice, again, in those early verses, he's singing to God.

He's acknowledging the works of God and God's covenant faithfulness, but, again, pivots his praise into a prayer of blessing over his son in verse 76.

He sings, And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the highest, for thou shalt go before the face of the

Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation unto his people by the remission of their sins through the tender mercy of our

God. In John, the Lord is sending along a messenger to prepare the way, just as the angel had told

Zacharias, and just as the prophet Malachi, excuse me, had foretold in chapter 3 in verse 1 of his book.

Again, Malachi chapter 3 in verse 1, Behold, I will send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me.

And the Lord whom ye seek shall suddenly come to his temple, even the messenger of the covenant, whom ye delight in. Behold, he shall come, saith the

Lord of hosts. And in the final verses of his letter, Malachi reiterates, Behold, I will send you Elijah, the prophet, before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the

Lord, and he shall turn the hearts, the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.

These final words of Malachi, that final prophet before the 430 years of silence, these are the first words fulfilled as we open the

New Testament, just as the angel had told Zacharias in verse 17. He shall go before him. Speaking of the

Messiah to come, the Lord Jesus, he says, John, your son, shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children and the disobedience of the wisdom of the just to make ready a people prepared for the

Lord. This is the way of the Lord in his work. He's certainly able to do all of these things on his own, and yet it pleases him to prepare the way, to proclaim the good news to his people, and all this by his tender mercies.

He's a gracious and merciful God to his people. As the apostle Paul writes in Romans 9, verses 22 through 24, it says, what if God, willing to show his wrath and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction, and that he might make known the riches of his glory on the vessels of mercy, which he had aforeprepared unto glory, even us, whom he hath called not of the

Jews only, but also of the Gentiles. John is a vessel of the mercies of God, no more and yet no less, that the riches of his glory may be made known.

And such also are we. God has fitted us as a people commissioned as vessels of the mercies of God to the world, as Paul says.

John is the forerunner of this ministry to the world, the preparer of the way, but he's not the last. I think this is part of the reason why

Jesus says in Matthew 11, 11, verily I say unto you, among them that are born of women, there hath not risen a greater than John the

Baptist. Notwithstanding, he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

John's ministry prepared the way, the Lord Jesus established it, and now we proclaim it as his ambassadors on earth.

And so as Zacharias prays this blessing over his son, he puts his hope in the promises and the

God who made them, that these were for him and for his children and his children's children forever.

He understands the bridge that his son represents, pulling together the old and new.

And he has this hope. As we see with the close of the song in verses 78 and 79,

Zacharias has this hope because whereby, right, the one that John is pointing to, whereby the day spring from on high hath visited us to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death to guide our feet into the way of peace.

The hope of Zacharias for his son and for the people of God is not in John, but in the one that John points us to,

Jesus Christ, the day spring, the light to a dark world, the dawn to a dark night.

He and he alone always has been and always will be the one who can deliver upon his visitation.

He, the Lord Jesus, is the light of the world from the beginning of the ages. Chapter 1 and verse 1 of John the

Beloved's Gospel, we read, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him, and without him was not anything made that was made.

In him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.

And the Lord Jesus testifies of himself as this light of the world in John chapter 8, verse 12. Then he spake

Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world. He that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.

Advent is the season of twilight just before the dawn. Still in darkness, but we know the morning has been promised and we know it's coming soon, and the night is almost over.

And once it comes, the darkness cannot comprehend it, and there's no stopping the advance of that light.

Zacharias and John the Baptist stand at the front porch of the new covenant like two heralds at the door. Zacharias is the old priest who has been forced into silence, a living picture of Israel under centuries of prophetic quiet.

And when God finally looses his tongue, he does not mumble something vague and inspirational. He detonates a psalm.

Out of his mouth pours Abraham, David, covenant, mercy, oath, salvation, visitation, redemption.

And the point is not that God has changed his mind, but that God has kept his word. The priest who doubted now blesses.

The man who asked for a sign has become the sign. His song is a trumpet blast that announces the long night is over, and the

God of our fathers has stepped into the story again. And then there's John. And if Zacharias is that first thunder,

John is the lightning on the horizon. He's not the main event, right? He's the holy disturbance before the main event.

He's the man who knows exactly who he is not. He says later, I am not the Christ, and exactly who

Christ is. His joy is not in center stage, but in the wings. He says in John chapter three, he that hath the bride is the bridegroom.

And the friend of the bridegroom is thrilled just to hear the bridegroom's voice. John says, he must increase, but I must decrease.

When John says these things, and again, John chapter three, that's not a false modesty. It's covenant sanity, understanding who he is and who

God is. John's ministry is to turn up the lights on Jesus and then gladly step back into the shadows.

And this brings it straight to us. The Lord Jesus, the true day spring from on high, has now turned to his disciples in Matthew chapter five, and he says, ye are the salt of the earth, ye are the light of the world.

The light of the world has the audacity to call his people the light of the world. And that means that Advent is not just about candles on a wreath, it's a deployment order.

The one who shattered the darkness now sets his people on a hill and refuses to let them crawl under a bushel.

We are to shine in such a way that our good works are not advertisements for us, but doxology for our

Father in heaven. And how do we do that without turning it into a sanctified ego project, which could be easy to do for people who have a lot of ambition and want to do a lot of things.

We do it by taking up John's posture in Paul's spine. John teaches us the spirit.

A man can receive nothing except it be given him from heaven, this is John chapter three, verse 27. Everything is gift and so there's nothing to brag about.

He must increase and we must happily shrink. And then Paul shows us the shape of it in 2

Corinthians chapter four. He says, we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord and ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake.

God has shown into our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

And he has deliberately put that blazing treasure into earthen vessels like you and I.

And why? Why does God do this? So that when the world sees the light and feels the heat, they do not mistake the clay for the glory.

The cracks are on purpose, right? These earthen vessels, when Paul uses this language, it's because the light that's inside of us, it's meant to expose even our shortcoming so that no one would worship us or say how great we are, that we would look to the light that is inside of us.

And so this is the advent charge. You are not John the Baptist, but you are cut from the same cloth.

You're not the light, but you are under orders from the light. In a world quite content to sit in darkness and call it enlightenment, you do not have permission to dim the bulb.

You have permission to decrease. You have permission to suffer, to be troubled, but not to stress, perplexed, but not in despair, persecuted, but not forsaken, cast down, but not destroyed.

You have permission to die daily so that the life of Jesus might be made manifest in your mortal body.

That is what waiting looks like for Christians. Waiting is not loitering. Waiting is working and sacrifice.

Advent is not a sentimental pause. It's training for the long obedience in the same direction.

And Zacharias teaches us to bless the God who keeps his ancient promises in this way. John teaches us to get out of the way of the

God who fulfills them. In the church, standing between Bethlehem and the final trumpet is called to live as a people who have been visited and redeemed, a people who know that the silence has been broken and will be broken again.

And so our charge, again, is to take up the mantle. Do not pretend to be the bridegroom. You are a friend at the door, grinning from ear to ear because you hear his footsteps coming.

And so let your light so shine that the world cannot miss whose house this is and whose glory fills it.