How Does a Weary World Rejoice? We Acknowledge Our Weariness
December 3, 2023
Luke 1:1-23 (NLT)
1 Many people have set out to write accounts about the events that have been fulfilled among us. 2 They used the eyewitness reports circulating among us from the early disciples. 3 Having carefully investigated everything from the beginning, I also have decided to write an accurate account for you, most honorable Theophilus, 4 so you can be certain of the truth of everything you were taught.
5 When Herod was king of Judea, there was a Jewish priest named Zechariah. He was a member of the priestly order of Abijah, and his wife, Elizabeth, was also from the priestly line of Aaron. 6 Zechariah and Elizabeth were righteous in God’s eyes, careful to obey all of the Lord’s commandments and regulations. 7 They had no children because Elizabeth was unable to conceive, and they were both very old.
8 One day Zechariah was serving God in the Temple, for his order was on duty that week. 9 As was the custom of the priests, he was chosen by lot to enter the sanctuary of the Lord and burn incense. 10 While the incense was being burned, a great crowd stood outside, praying.
11 While Zechariah was in the sanctuary, an angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing to the right of the incense altar. 12 Zechariah was shaken and overwhelmed with fear when he saw him. 13 But the angel said, “Don’t be afraid, Zechariah! God has heard your prayer. Your wife, Elizabeth, will give you a son, and you are to name him John. 14 You will have great joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, 15 for he will be great in the eyes of the Lord. He must never touch wine or other alcoholic drinks. He will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even before his birth. 16 And he will turn many Israelites to the Lord their God. 17 He will be a man with the spirit and power of Elijah. He will prepare the people for the coming of the Lord. He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and he will cause those who are rebellious to accept the wisdom of the godly.”
18 Zechariah said to the angel, “How can I be sure this will happen? I’m an old man now, and my wife is also well along in years.”
19 Then the angel said, “I am Gabriel! I stand in the very presence of God. It was God who sent me to bring you this good news! 20 But now, since you didn’t believe what I said, you will be silent and unable to speak until the child is born. For my words will certainly be fulfilled at the proper time.”
21 Meanwhile, the people were waiting for Zechariah to come out of the sanctuary, wondering why he was taking so long. 22 When he finally did come out, he couldn’t speak to them. Then they realized from his gestures and his silence that he must have seen a vision in the sanctuary.
23 When Zechariah’s week of service in the Temple was over, he returned home.
Message
Can you imagine Zechariah’s journey home? I’m thinking his mind would be racing – what would he tell Elizabeth? How would he tell her? What would she think? Parents at their age? Could it be true? Even now, with his inability to talk because of his disbelief, he still wouldn’t quite be able to believe it. He and Elizabeth to have a child after all this time? After all the heartbreaking times when they were hoping for a child and none came? After all the neighbors and friends wondering what sin they must have committed not to be blessed with a child?
Would Elizabeth believe him? Would she think it was some big joke? His coming home speechless – literally – and telling her they were going to have a baby. He could picture the scene. He would come in the door, and she would be working on the evening meal in anticipation of his homecoming. She would ask, “Well, how did it go? Who was chosen to enter the sanctuary, to offer the prayers and light the incense? Was it Benjamin?” She would wonder when he didn’t answer. She would look up from her task, and he would gesture for something to write with. He would pantomime not being able to talk. She would bring him a stick and he would write in the dirt, “I served today.” She would say, “Why can’t you speak? You were chosen today?” He would write, “I saw an angel.” She would say, “What?” He would nod yes, then write, “I was terrified.” “Who wouldn’t be,” she would say. “The angel said we will have a baby!” “That’s not funny, Zechariah.” “Look at me, Elizabeth.” She would look at him, see how serious he was. She would have to sit down. “But we’re old, Zechy. How can this be?” He would shrug.
Somehow he would tell her all the angel had told him. Then they would wait. Would they try to make a baby? They would have to, wouldn’t they? How could they not, when there was even a little bit of hope? Underlying all of his weariness about the conversation he would soon have with his wife – without benefit of a voice – and all of the years of disappointment and pain, Zechariah would have felt this bubbling up in his chest, this feeling of joy – about the experience he had just had – of being chosen to enter the inner sanctuary, of speaking with an angel, of the possibility of a child, a child who would grow to be a man with the spirit and power of Elijah! But could he possibly have hope that it would happen?
Brené Brown in Atlas of the Heart would call Zechariah’s feeling “foreboding joy,” the feeling that joy won’t last, or that allowing himself to experience joy will invite disaster and disappointment. I know I was just speculating about what might have happened, but it makes sense. Zechariah and Elizabeth prayed and prayed for a child and were disappointed again and again. Now an angel appears to Zechariah and says their prayers are being answered. Zechariah has trouble believing their dream is finally coming true and then can’t even tell anyone about it. Should he feel joy? What if it is just a dream and they are disappointed once again?
Brown tells a story of a man she interviewed later in his life “who had always believed that expecting the worst was the best way to live. He described how this outlook made him feel prepared for bad things if they were to happen. Then, his wife died in a car accident and his perspective completely changed. Expecting the worst didn’t prepare him for that loss, and worse, he grieved that so many of his memories with his wife were ones when he was not fully enjoying the moment. He admitted, ‘My commitment to her is to fully enjoy every moment now’ (50, Atlas of the Heart).”
Like with Zechariah, or this man that Brene Brown interviewed, “sometimes weariness can harden us and prevent us from living fully.” [from How Does a Weary World Rejoice sermon guide] So, we need to acknowledge that weariness. Our weariness today might be from the political scene, the way our system of governing seems to be breaking down, the way the people we’ve elected can’t seem to accomplish anything useful. It might be weariness about the way the earth’s resources are being used up and how we can’t seem to turn things around or, for some, weariness of hearing about it all the time. Perhaps the weariness we have is from personal experiences. “We have all had hard journeys. Grief has left its scar.” [from How Does a Weary World Rejoice sermon guide]
In our hearts, perhaps we feel an echo of what the Psalmist said in today’s reading from the Psalter, “How long, O Lord?” We, like Zechariah, may be hardened by disbelief. We, too, may feel silenced, unable to speak of our experience, unable to see how rejoicing is even possible.
In her podcast, We Can Do Hard Things, Glennon Doyle and her wife Abby interviewed author Andrea Gibson, who had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer two years earlier, had gone into remission, but had recently had a scan which revealed the cancer was back and was in her liver. Andrea talked about her experience:
The thing that I was surprised by and I think the thing that I’ve wanted to share is that my whole life, I had this terror. My whole life, I had this idea that as soon as I got news like this, that I would just be in a cave all curled up and devastated and having no access to joy, and the thing that I’ve learned through these last two years is, God, I wasted so much time fearing the emotions that I would have in the future, and that fear that I had in the past is far more than what I’m experiencing right now. The present moment is far more doable than the future or the past… If I have a short time to live, I’m not about to spend that time dying. I’m going to spend it living.
Glennon asked her what that meant, and Andrea answered,
It used to mean something very different to me. It used to mean just going out and doing everything and seeing everyone and having every conversation, but [now] for me, it means opening my heart to gratitude, opening my heart to love, and mostly being present… I refuse to spend the end of my life no matter how much time it is, whether it’s two months or it’s 20 years, I refuse to spend it not loving my life, and that doesn’t mean not feeling. My therapist taught me years ago that you can’t shut yourself off to grief without also shutting yourself off to joy. You have to think of it like a kink in the hose. You stop the flow of sadness, you stop the flow of happiness at the same time. So, I’m crying about twice an hour and then I’m bursting into laughter. So, it’s feeling it all, to be open to this moment and to the aliveness of this moment.
We can experience sorrow and disappointment and weariness alongside joy. That’s something the creators of this worship series, How Does a Weary World Rejoice, emphasized.
They wrote about experiences in their own lives when they experienced joy alongside other harder emotions. Here’s what a couple of them said:
“I lost my grandfather (Poppa) about 10 months ago. He and I called each other soulmates. He died 17 days after my son was born. As I fell onto the floor in grief, all I could think about was the joy I would've experienced seeing them meet. Joy and grief are dancing partners. Darkness and light cannot exist without the contrast between them. My son and I often sit on our porch swing, and one of his favorite things is to watch the wind chimes my grandfather made twirl in the wind and sing improvised songs. The work of my Poppa's hands delights my son, and in that I find an inexplicable joy."—Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman, Director of Branding, Founding Creative Partner
“My first pregnancy was due just days before Christmas. I imagined giving birth amidst the singing of ‘Joy to the World,’ but nine weeks into the pregnancy—the Wednesday after Mother’s Day—I miscarried. I spent the long Texas summer mourning the loss. By the time December finally came, I was four months pregnant with a daughter who would be born on Easter. As I prepared the nursery that winter, my joy was interrupted by a wave of grief for the child I never met, the child who would have been arriving in days, not months. In the midst of what everyone saw
as a joyous season, for me there was this hidden pain I felt I needed to tuck away. My grief felt so unearned, but so did my joy.” —Rev. Anna Strickland, Operations Support & Content Creator
One of the ways we can hold these emotions we have alongside one another is by being “in the moment,” by living life fully, by sensing God’s grace in the midst of whatever is contributing to our sense of weariness, by paying attention. If we live always waiting for the other shoe to drop, we will miss what is right before our eyes. What will you regret not seeing when you look back on your life?
Pray with me.
We are weary, God. Will you rescue us? We are weary, Lord. Will you make haste to help us? We are weary, Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer. Will you make your face to shine down on us and save us? We pray this in the name of the God who sees our weariness and gives us grace. Amen.
An Invitation to Acknowledge Our Weariness
What is making you weary today? What is keeping you from believing God does rescue us, help us, save us? Open your eyes. Look for beauty. See the ways that God is moving and connecting and simply making an appearance in your life, in the life of our community. Let your weariness sit with your joy and be open to God-with-us who is coming and is here now. Amen.