When Waiting is Not About Us

5 In the days of Herod, king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, of the division of Abijah. And he had a wife from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. 6 And they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord. 7 But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.
(Luke 1:5-7)

… 13 But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John. 14 And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, 15 for he will be great before the Lord. And he must not drink wine or strong drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother's womb. 16 And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, 17 and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.” (Luke 1:13-17)

I’ve been reading a lot of Hannah Brencher’s daily Advent devotionals this year. Some years I gravitate towards one thing to reflect on. This year I have a feeling I’ll be bouncing around.

She says of Elizabeth’s story in Luke:

"It is far too easy to package up the story of Elizabeth and say, "See!? Elizabeth was waiting for something, and then God showed up!" Yes, this is all true. But anyone who has felt the waiting period- the loss of years and time and dreams deferred- knows the feelings, longings, and pain of another day unfulfilled leaves scars. It isn't something you get over instantly (or sometimes ever). It stays with you. It changes you.

The waiting changes us.

It turns us into different versions of ourselves."

The Bible has many stories of barren women seeking the Lord for a child. The first that comes to mind is Hannah. Like Elizabeth, Hannah did receive a child, but their years together were short. From the beginning, the child had a calling that was greater than that of being a son and heir to their birth family.

It’s easy to think of any waiting as a punishment. And in hindsight one often reduces the experience as a time when a lesson was learned. But Brencher argues that both ideas “dismiss the beauty and benevolence of God's character."

This is a bold sentence, but the waiting is not always about us.
If we look closely at the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah (from the perfect view of 2000 years later), we see that their waiting was more about God’s timing.

The baby that would grow up to be John the Baptist needed to be a contemporary of Jesus. Did he need to be the son of Zechariah and Elizabeth? I don't know. Did he need to be related to Jesus by blood? Maybe not.

There are a lot of things I am waiting on and have waited on in my life. And there have been times where I've been gifted with the ability to see why the waiting was important. Yet on this side of heaven, that is not something we are promised.

There’s a passage in Galatians 4, where Paul thinks back to the birth of Jesus and says,
"But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, 5 to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons." (Galatians 4:4-5)

I love that phrase. The fullness of time. It is beyond our understanding. And it holds so much promise.

In whatever we are waiting for, we do know this: God is with us in the waiting. Even the waiting that is only heard in groans from our hearts. When we grow weary from hoping, He does not.

There is a quote I love from author Victor Hugo. And I think it speaks to this:
“Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake.”

Elizabeth's waiting had a finish line. A baby takes nine months to grow. I do not begrudge her for getting what she had hoped for for so long. I'm thankful for her story because it helps me have the courage to wait well. Israel's waiting for the Messiah can sometimes seem so distant and huge. But Elizabeth and Zechariah were people who lived and breathed and waited, just like you and me.