Jesu Juva
Luke 1:5-25
December 3, 2025
Advent Midweek 1
Dear saints of our Savior~
The season of Advent doesn’t begin with hope or expectation. Nor does Advent (the first Advent) begin with joy or peace. Advent begins in silence . . . . (silence)
Meet Zechariah and Elizabeth, an elderly couple. They were “insiders” when it came to matters of faith—priestly professionals, steeped in the Word of the Lord and the traditions of Moses. Zechariah and Elizabeth were devout, pious, and faithful. Yet, behind that well-rehearsed veneer, there was deep sorrow, deep shame, and deep despair. For Elizabeth was barren. The couple had no children. And in a culture where ancestry and genealogy and offspring mattered more than almost anything—a childless couple was always saddled with shame, stigma, and sorrow. This couple had no doubt prayed and hoped and anticipated, only to be met with the silence of God. Advent begins in silence . . . . (silence)
What elderly Elizabeth and Zechariah faced personally, was also faced collectively by Israel. By the time old Zechariah was called up for duty in the temple, Israel had endured 400 years of silence—four hundred years with no prophetic Word from the Lord. Not since the days of Malachi had anyone dared to declare: Thus saith the Lord. Advent begins in barrenness and emptiness. Advent begins in silence. . . . (silence)
And just to amplify the silence—just to make the silence unbearable—the Angel Gabriel hands down a sentence of silence to Zechariah. God made an old man mute. And when this priest couldn’t utter a peep, people scratched their heads. Zechariah made a living with his voice. His priestly vocation was to bless and to pray, to preach and to teach. His vocation was vocal. But there he stood at the altar of incense, like a quarterback without an arm. Advent begins in silence. . . . (silence)
But into this silence God speaks a promise: a child who will prepare the way of the Lord—a child who would be born to Zechariah and Elizabeth. This becomes even more meaningful when you know that the name “Zechariah” means “God remembers.” When God promised Zechariah that Elizabeth would give birth to a son in her old age, God was remembering His people. For when God remembers, He’s not just sifting through the hazy memories of yesteryear. No, when God remembers, He acts. He does something. God was remembering—He was acting—when His messenger told Zechariah that a son of his very own would prepare the way of the Lord. On that day, God remembered. But Zechariah—well, Zechariah forgot.
Zechariah forgot just how good God is. Zechariah forgot how long ago the Lord had helped Abraham and barren Sarah, Isaac and barren Rebekah, Jacob and barren Rachel. And when Gabriel declared that God was about to do the very same thing for Zechariah and barren Elizabeth, Zechariah didn’t believe it. After decades of dashed hopes, He doubted. He was skeptical. He didn’t remember, but forgot, just how good God really is.
Zechariah didn’t expect too much from the Lord; he expected too little. We’re the same way. We certainly don’t expect anything good to come from silence. People avoid silence at all costs today. Look at how ubiquitous earbuds and headphones have become. There’s nothing more dreaded than dead air. This service—Evening Prayer—calls for silence—silence for meditation on God’s word. How many of us find that silence awkward or uncomfortable? Rather than wait on God in silence and faith, we say: cue the playlist; play the podcast.
Our God is the most generous Giver of all. He invites us to ask for what we need and He promises to answer. He invites us to pray and He hears our prayers. He gives us more than we desire or deserve. He’s exceedingly generous. That’s who He is. But, like Zechariah, we forget that. We don’t expect much from Him at all. That’s who we are.
Zechariah may have been a priest by profession. But you’re not so different. You’re a part of the priesthood of the baptized. God has chosen you. God has given you faith in His Son. He’s given you hands and feet and a voice to live each day as His dear child.
With a status like that, you have every reason to pray—every reason to walk by faith—to trust the Lord even in seasons of silence and sorrow. But instead you’ve doubted and despaired. You are secretly skeptical that God will help you and deliver you. You have quietly concluded: God must help those who help themselves. O, you of little faith. Like Zechariah, when we ought to remember God’s goodness and mercy . . . we forget.
But God—God does not forget. God remembers. God gave Zechariah more than he desired or expected. Zechariah hoped for the Messiah, and God gave the Messiah during Zechariah’s lifetime and within his own extended family. Zechariah hoped to become a dad, and God made Zechariah one of the most famous fathers ever—gave him a GREAT son—John, who would point the world to Jesus, the Lamb of God.
God remembers. And when God remembers, He acts. He breaks the silence. When God sent His Son into the world at Christmas, He was remembering His promises. He was acting for your eternal good. Unlike Zechariah, Jesus would be the greatest and most faithful Priest ever. He led a perfect life, fully entrusting Himself to His Father, even in the most hopeless situations. His perfect faithfulness becomes yours through faith.
Jesus would not only be the perfect Priest, but also the perfect Lamb of sacrifice—the Lamb sacrificed for you—the Lamb whose blood would atone for all your doubt and despair. Nails, spear shall pierce Him through. The cross be borne for me, for you.
In the book of Hebrews Jesus is called our “great High Priest.” And great He is. He used His voice to bless, to pray, to instruct and gather sinners. And although He was faithful in all things, He stayed silent before His accusers and died a cruel death in your place. “Father, forgive them,” He prayed. Even then, Jesus remembered His Father’s unspeakable goodness. He never lost hope that His Father would raise Him from the dead as promised.
We must never forget who we are: Poor priestly beggars like Zechariah, who deserve no good thing from the Lord. But we must also never forget who the Lord is: gracious, merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love. God remembered Zechariah and gave Him a son who would level the mountains and fill the valleys to prepare the way for Jesus.
God also remembers you in the barren seasons of your life. He is with you in your silent suffering—and from that suffering gives endurance and hope. For nothing will be impossible with God. Learn from old Zechariah. Listen to the promises of God. Silence can be golden. . . . (silence)
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.