Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Tears filled her eyes and cascaded down her face as she surveyed their accommodations. Things were not at all how she’d planned. Nothing was. Nothing had been for the last several months. Not since the surprise visit from Gabriel. The announcement of her unplanned pregnancy had thrown her perfectly laid plans in disarray. The painstaking wedding planning was suspended, the betrothal cut short.  Parenthood loomed before her far sooner than she hoped. Yet still she had hope.

Her mother’s heart had spent these last months planning and working, crafting tiny clothes and carefully stitched blankets. Her house was immaculate, swept, dusted, arranged and rearranged in an attempt to determine the perfect place to lay her precious Child. The midwife had been made aware of the impending necessity of her services. Every possible provision Mary could think of had been made to ensure a perfect, warm, loving birth of her Child. As long as it happened at home. 

She should have known better. Known not to construct air castles. Not to build a store of dreams. Not to create a list of means and methods. She should have expected something unexpected. Something like the decree forcing them to travel from Galilee to Bethlehem so near her due date. It was an ill-advised journey in the late stages of her pregnancy. A long journey. Ninety miles of tiresome schlepping. Days of wondering, worrying. Every pain making her heart stutter. Every ache causing her mind to wonder. 

Consistent pains had started a few hours ago. She hadn’t told Joseph. What little she’d heard in whispered confidences had her hoping they would stop, hoping it was just a practice session for the real thing. Her situation forced her to assume it wasn’t. Damp eyes glancing around the ugly space that would house them for the night, Mary sighed. The tears flowed again. It wasn’t what she’d planned. It wasn’t the warm, cozy, inviting atmosphere into which a child should be born. Her carefully prepared blankets and Joseph’s beautifully crafted cradle sat useless in their little cottage ninety miles away. There was nothing here but straw. And dirt. And animals. And a rock hard manger. When she planned to give Him everything she could, all she had to offer the Savior of the world was a drafty, dirty, desolate stable. It simply wasn’t enough.  

Mary wasn’t confused about Who nestled beneath her heart. It wasn’t just a baby sleeping there. It was the Baby. The Messiah. God’s Son. Heavenly royalty. Although she hadn’t heard the description of golden streets and gates of pearl, she knew her coming Child deserved more than she could afford. Grandeur. Magnificence. Splendor. Grand hallways that would echo with childish laughter. Marble floors for sock-encased feet to zoom across. Polished banisters surely made for sliding. Loyal subjects who would recognize His face, bow at His feet, and honor His name. Her heart ached that she couldn’t promise Him those things. None of them. Not at home in Galilee. Certainly not here. Right now she couldn’t even promise Him a decent place to lay His little head. And it was quickly becoming clear they would be needing a place for that very purpose.

The pains she’d hoped were trial runs had not dissipated. Indeed, they had continued into the evening hours with increasing strength and frequency. Resting hadn’t helped. Sleep wouldn’t come. Her body was loudly telling her the Child she carried was planning to appear on His own timetable. No matter how far they were from home. Regardless of their current surroundings. Despite the dearth of soft blankets in which to swaddle Him, Jesus was coming. And He did.

 Into the dark stillness of a dank stable, Jesus was born. A tiny, wrinkly, slightly grumpy newborn who’d just battled His way into the world, He was still the most beautiful thing Mary had ever seen. Wrapped in strips of cloth hastily gathered from a caring and benevolent neighbor and carefully tucked into the scratchy straw of the uncomfortable manger, He still seemed to glow with the light of Heaven. Sweetly slumbering in the poorest possible circumstances–a borrowed stable, borrowed hay, borrowed manger–the Savior of the world willingly left the opulence of Heaven, humbly rested in the poverty of earth, to provide mankind the opportunity to personally know the King of Kings. (Luke 2:1-7)

Admittedly, I wonder at the details. The trip notwithstanding, couldn’t there have been at least someone with space to properly house them? Family? Friends? Acquaintances? Just one tiny room in an inn? Why did it have to be a stable? Why was His first earthly resting place a manger? Why were the ones who witnessed His birth mute animals? What was God trying to tell us when He birthed Jesus in such a nondescript place? What, exactly, is the message echoing from the manger? 

Eloquently spoken by modest actions rather than flowery words, Heavenly royalty became humble humanity in order to offer hopeless mortals the extravagant opportunity to gain Heaven. Jesus’ birth to a dirty stable and cold manger unquestionably signifies there is no limit to the lengths He would go to offer you salvation. Bear the brunt of the elements. Shoulder the disdain of society. Sit in the dirt of humanity. There is no place He wouldn’t go to reach you. There is nowhere too far away. There is nothing too dirty, too evil, too bad. We are the reason He came. The only reason He came. Salvation for everyone, everywhere. No exceptions. His message rings out from the manger where a squalling baby boy wrapped in rags wiggles among a handful of straw. Salvation is for everyone. Those in the humblest of circumstances. Those in the most magnificent. And everyone in between. (II Peter 3:8-10; Acts 10:34; I Timothy 2:4; John 3:16: Romans 10:12-13)

The message is so often lost in the mayhem of commercial Christmas. In the endeavor to gain the best gifts, the biggest tree, the most stunning decorations, we forget that the greatest gift has already been given. A royal baby born in the humblest of circumstances for the most important purpose. Death on a cross. Earthly sacrifice for eternal salvation. Unfathomable love for unworthy humanity. Truly, Christ was born for this. (Romans 6:23)

 Maybe your life choices have put you in a place that seems unredeemable. Maybe your circumstances have you believing you are too far gone. Maybe someone said you weren’t worth saving. Listen closely. The message from the manger says otherwise. The Child there grew up to hang on a cross, atoning for your sins and indiscretions, your bad choices and awful habits. The Babe from the Manger would eventually cry out from the cross, “It is finished,” effectively signifying the end of sins’ reign. You don’t have to live in the place you are. You don’t have to die in your sins. Jesus came to the lowest place on earth. The place animals both eat and defecate. To prove to woefully lost humanity that no one is outside the realm of grace, no one is exempt from the steadfast, unfailing love of God. Not you. Not me. Not one soul. Jesus came for all. (John 19:30; Romans 5:12-21)

We are all sinners in need of a miracle-working Savior. A God that reaches down and rescues us from the dark alleyways of our lives. A loving Father who follows us into the dens of iniquity we can’t seem to avoid on our own. We are all in need of a ransom from sin’s bondage. So Jesus came.  Leaving the golden streets of Heaven, gently closing the gates of pearl behind Him, He willingly stepped into a flawed and failing world of fallen humanity to humbly offer Himself in atonement for the sins of the entire world. All of us. Every. Single. Soul. With His final breath He bestowed on us hope for our dire straits, salvation from our sin, and freedom from guilt’s enslavement. It was the reason He came. (I John 2:2; Romans 5:8)

There are probably a thousand messages we could hear from the manger, but today I hope we hear this one loudest. Jesus came for you. No matter where you are, what you’ve done, or how your rap sheet reads. Jesus came to give you life. Abundant life. Life everlasting. Yes, friend, Christ was born for you. (John 10:10; Matthew 1:21)

It stopped! Finally! It stopped! For the past few weeks a growing cloud of uncertainty hovered over their plodding group. What if the star wasn’t really leading them? What if the alleged movement was simply a desperate ploy by overactive imaginations? What if their fellow scientists, now hundreds of miles behind them, had been right all along? What if it really was just a star? An ordinary star. A star only recently visible due to newly understood planetary movements. A simple star with no great meaning, no significance, not a grand announcement of a miracle Child born to rescue mankind from its certain demise. 

The questions had all been previously posed. They had ignored them. Under the luminous twinkling light of that special star, the wise men gathered camels and supplies, gifts and goods, waved farewell to family and friends, and set out to chase down the one thing they believed would change everything. Jesus. Messiah. Savior of the world. Regardless of how long it took. No matter the expense. In spite of all the naysayers and skeptics. These men devoted the rest of their lives to the journey, should that be the requirement. Not because the star itself was so special, but because the child it signaled was. 

As the star finally glided to a halt above that humble little cottage, their hearts soared in anticipation. It had all been worth it. Every boring mile of dessert. Every monotonous meal of trail fare. Every village and town where their celestial questions were met with ignorance. Every city whose panels of intellect curled their lips in condescension at such an obvious fairytale, such an impossible star, such a magnificently wasted labor. Lesser men would have tucked tail and headed home under such scathing derision. Not these men. So deep was their faith, nothing could turn them around. The people might know nothing. The scholars might claim ignorance. The religious leaders might scorn. But they knew. They always knew. And right then, in that moment, their faith was about to be made sight.  

The house and grounds were of little account. Sawdust littered the front yard. Irregular wood scraps were tossed in a haphazard heap as if a toddler had been attempting his own project. A pile of rough-hewn logs were stacked neatly to the side. There could be no mistake. This was clearly the home of a carpenter, not a king. Yet nothing in their souls doubted the guiding light that had brought them to this place. This was it. They had done it. They had found Him. Emmanuel. God in the flesh, living among His people. God with us. 

Scrambling from the backs of their exhausted camels, the grown men nearly danced with excitement. Their beards split in blinding smiles. A nearly tangible river of relief and joy flowed around them. The star had stopped. This was it! He was here! Even though they hadn’t knocked. Even before Mary hesitantly opened the door. Prior to ever laying eyes on the Christ child Himself, these men burst out in unrestrained rejoicing. Why? Because their faith-full hearts knew, without sight or sound, that they had found Jesus, the King of the Jews. The Hope of the Nations. The Prince of Peace. 

They were not disappointed. Their faith was not misplaced. Entering the house, they found Him. And they believed it was Him. Without fanfare. Without a grand introduction. Without requiring proof. The wise men believed that the Child before them, the Child dwelling under that stubbornly stalled star, was Jesus the Christ, the Son of the living God, the promised Messiah sent to save His people from their sins. The Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father the prophet Isaiah had told them was coming, had indeed come. So full was the measure of their faith that they rejoiced with incredible, overwhelming, exuberant joy. Their blind faith had truly become full sight. (Matthew 2:1-11)

It was this same faith that would become one of the basic tenets of Jesus’ teachings. Faith when you cannot see, cannot prove, cannot know in advance. Faith in the hand of Jesus Christ to heal and save, repair and restore. Faith exhibited time and again by people in desperate circumstances with no reason to hope, no promise of rescue, no earthly basis for believing. Men like the leper who approached Jesus in faith, asking to be made clean. And he was. Because he believed. Men like the blind ones following and crying out to Jesus for mercy, unwilling to miss the chance for their faith to become sight. Hearing their desperate cries, Jesus turned and asked them one question, “Do you believe I can heal you?” Their faith-full response echoed through the surrounding crowd, “We believe!” And He did, not because of their cries or the peer pressure of the crowd. He healed them because of their faith. (Matthew 8:1-4)

Crawling her way through the crowd, dodging sandals and sweeping aside voluminous robes, a suffering woman struggled to reach Him. Her 12-year illness had drained her spirit, body and bank account. The doctors were stymied. Options were gone. Except one. She needed to get to Jesus. He could heal her. She didn’t need to look in His eyes or speak directly to Him. She wasn’t asking for a healing hand on her head. She didn’t even need His attention at all. She had no intention of taking up a moment of His time. She didn’t need to. Her faith-full heart believed if she could just brush the hem of His garment, she would be healed. And she was. Not because she touched His garment, but because she had faith in God when the odds were stacked so strongly against her. (Matthew 9:20-22)

Perhaps one of the most moving examples of recorded faith was that of the Canaanite woman. Deeply distressed over the state of her demon-oppressed daughter, she came and begged Jesus to deliver her child. Unlike the other accounts we read, Jesus didn’t answer her. Didn’t acknowledge her presence. Appeared unmoved by her brokenness and pain. Still she continued to beg. Finally, annoyed at her continued petition, the disciples asked Jesus to send her away. In a shocking rebuff, Jesus responds to her wretched pleading with the statement that He came only for the lost house of Israel. The Jews. Not the Gentiles. Not her. Not her daughter. 

Refusing to be dissuaded, the faith-full woman came and knelt before Him. Tears streaking unchecked down the lines of sadness etched in her face she quietly asked again, “Help me!” Again a negative answer came. He wasn’t here for this. He was here for the lost sheep of Israel. She wouldn’t be dissuaded. Her faith in Jesus wouldn’t allow her to walk away. In abject humility, she likened herself to a dog eating scraps from the rich man’s table. Surely some of His great mercy and grace and healing could fall to the place she and her daughter were being held captive. Surely there was a rescue for them. Surely Jesus could ransom them! Couldn’t He just let a little of the blessing fall on her child? Although her argument may have been sound, it wasn’t cunning or eloquence that won her child’s healing. No. It was faith alone. Desperate faith. Helpless faith. Faith that believes without sight, without promise, without signs and wonders. Immense faith that elicits great rewards. (Matthew 15:21-28)

Unfortunately, so many of us miss it. We look for a sign. We stand in skepticism. We embody the people in Jesus’ hometown, seeing what the wise men saw, hearing what the people in the surrounding villages said, but failing to believe. Their hearts were shadowed with doubt. They thought they knew what to expect from the coming Messiah. Grandeur. Royalty. Strength. Governmental overthrow. This Guy wasn’t Him. He was a carpenter’s son. Child of Mary. They knew His brothers. Some of their sons were betrothed to His sisters. They’d known Him since He was an infant. They were absolutely not buying it! He wasn’t the Messiah. It was all a hoax. A wild attempt to get attention. And because they were busy squeezing God into their box of means and methods, they missed it and it cost them. 

Their lack of faith hindered the work that could have been done among them. Amazing things could have happened in their town, their homes, their lives, but they didn’t have faith. Their miracles hung suspended in time because they refused to believe what they couldn’t see or comprehend. Unbelief ran rampant and choked out the tiny seeds of faith that should have been nurtured and strengthened into great roots of unflappable faith. And it cost them. They gained nothing. Jesus left His hometown doing few, if any, miraculous works there because their unbelief scuttled their faith and cost them their miracles. (Matthew 13:53-58)

What if the wise men hadn’t believed enough to set out on that enormous journey? What if the blind and lame and leperous had hemmed and hawed instead of stalwartly stating their faith? What if the hopelessly ill women gave up at the sight of the crowd pressing around Him and the line waiting for His attention? What if the Canaanite woman had stifled her faith in the God of Israel, buried her hope, and walked away? What would they have missed? What would they have given up? What would they have lost due to insufficient faith?

What about you? As the carols of hope and life and rebirth echo around you, does your faith spring eternal or are you hesitant, reticent? Is your faith waiting for a sign, a signal that it is safe to believe? Are you waiting for God to fit nicely into your preset parameters, work in the way you have previously determined, act in a manner you attribute to the Almighty? Is your faith precariously teetering on the edge of unbelief? Are you willing to lose what you could gain because the security of unbelief is more comfortable than the freefall of faith? (Matthew 16:4; Isaiah 55:8-11) 

It is of utmost importance that you recognize the desperate necessity of being faith-full. In a world and time when we are tempted to cast our hope, our allegiance in a thousand earthly, tangible things, it is imperative to place our faith in Jesus Christ. He is our hope, our peace, our help. He is our strength, our hiding place, our strong tower. And He rewards those who diligently seek Him. Wise men. Blind men. Ailing women and suffering children. Saints. Sinners. You. Me. Every soul who grasps the importance of being faith-full will find that great faith elicits great rewards. (Matthew 21:22; Hebrews 11:1, 6; Mark 11; 22-24; II Corinthians 5:7;  Psalm 121:1; Psalm 46:1-3; Psalm 32:7; Psalm 62:5-6)

A pent-up sigh of sweet relief floated from his lips at her acquiescence. Although God had sent him to bear this announcement, he hadn’t been completely certain she’d agree. Not because he doubted God. Not at all. He doubted humans. Often leading with their emotions, they had a tendency to be fickle. He’d seen it a thousand times. Humanity grabbing up the torch of God and bolting headlong into His work only to become disgruntled, displeased, disappointed, discouraged, and toss the same torch to the ground in defiance and disobedience. He hoped it wouldn’t be the case this time. 

Watching the wash of emotions float over her countenance as he spoke was reassuring. It was almost as if he could see her mind processing his words. The startled fear that filled her at his sudden appearance dissipated only to be replaced with confusion as she sorted out his greeting. He hadn’t meant to be enigmatic. The words were supposed to calm and comfort. Who wouldn’t want to be told they were favored by God? 

The girl was right to be wary, though. She clearly suspected there was more to the statement than a simple blessing. She wasn’t wrong. He had so much to tell her. So much she wouldn’t understand. So many things she would find nearly impossible to grasp. Her mind would be flooded with answerless questions. Her faith would be tested to its outermost limits. The completion of this task would require her to fully trust the God she had never seen yet in whom she still chose to believe. 

Humanity was fickle that way, too. Trust came hard. They wanted to see before they believed. But faith doesn’t work that way. Faith is believing that the words God speaks are, through His omnipotence, “yes and amen.” No matter how long it takes for their fruition. Regardless of whether it happens the way you hoped. Whether or not you see it happen. Faith is unwavering confidence that what God has promised He will also perform. It is the unabated knowledge that you can trust His heart. Always. (II Corinthians 1:20; Romans 4:20-21)

Mary would need that faith, that confidence, that trust. Gabriel’s next words would reveal the exact reason for his visit. It was not news to be considered lightly. As the astonishing announcement of her impending miraculous conception and heavenly pregnancy washed over Mary, so did the questions. A thousand of them. How? How was she chosen? How would this happen? How would Joseph know she had not been unfaithful to their commitment? How would she share the news with her family and friends? How could she prove it was God’s child, not an illegitimate son conceived outside the bonds of marriage? More importantly, and most confounding of all, was one overarching question. How, exactly, did one parent the Son of God?

Gabriel had few answers, but the ones he did have were indisputable. God would do what God would do. Improbable things. Impossible things. Important things. Things the truly faithful had been waiting centuries to see happen. This Child would be proof, once again, that when God speaks, you can trust Him. And she did. Casting her faith in the God who had never once let her people down, led them astray, or forsaken them, Mary trustingly answered, “Yes!” (Luke 1:26-38)

It wouldn’t be the last time Mary would stand in the balance, weigh the options and answer, “Yes,” to God’s will, His way, His timing at the risk of her own heartache. It wouldn’t be the last time she would be pressed to trust His heart because His hand was horrifically obscured. As socially awkward as her ill-timed pregnancy may have been, harder times were coming. She must have known that. As the shepherds collected around that manger in the shadowy stable the night of Jesus’ birth, Mary looked on with the peaceful knowledge of Who she had birthed. As those men ran out into the streets telling everyone about the new baby in the stable three lanes over, Mary collected those confirming events in her heart for future moments of struggle and doubt. Times when she would need to remind herself that her Son was actually God’s Son, the Savior of the world. He was born for more than carpentry. He was born to save His people from their sins. (Luke 2:15-19)

Not once is it recorded that she breathed a word of His greatness. Not when she brought Him to the temple as an infant. Not when Simeon and Anna rejoiced with recognition. Not when they had to travel three extra days back to Jerusalem only to find Him sitting among the religious leaders listening and asking questions. Not even when His response to their concern for His welfare sounded more like rejection than respect. Even then, Mary simply collected the memories. Cherished the moments. Rested her soul in the treasured proof that her faith, her trust, her confidence had not been misplaced. Never once does she regret her choice. (Luke 2:22-51)

There would be opportunities to do so. Many of them. Surely as she watched the people of Nazareth, their hometown, refuse and reject her Son, she wished to speak up, tell them to wise up. She didn’t. Rejected when she and her sons visited the place He was speaking and asked to see Him, surely her heart was wounded at His response. In pain, she could have whispered frustrated words about His deity conflicting with His humanity. She didn’t. In actions we often find nearly impossible to emulate, Mary calls to mind all the things she knows to be true. She casts her faith and trust in God and, although she probably isn’t always excited about the results, she says, “Yes,” to whatever God the Father is doing through their Son. (Luke 4:16-30)

It’s difficult to imagine. At least for me. My stomach flutters in nervousness right along with hers as I picture Mary frantically searching for her missing 12-year-old in a strange city. My spine stiffens in indignation even as my heart spasms in pain when Jesus speaks those words that seem intent on maternal alienation, “Who is my mother and brothers?” I stand in awe that she could so quietly acquiesce, so calmly take her place, so carefully hold her tongue. I shake my head in amazement that, when every other human mother (myself included) would try to micromanage the situation, Mary, in faith, steps back and says, “Yes, Lord,” staying out of the way and allowing God to be God. Even on the hardest day of her life. (Luke 2:43-51; Matthew 12:46-50)

Hanging by nails painfully plunged through His hands and feet into the rough-hewn wood of the cross, Jesus saw her. The blood dripping from his pierced brow almost obscured her bent head, but His heart would recognize her anywhere. She’d been there through the entire grisly event. Her tear-filled eyes had watched as the soldiers ruthlessly fastened His battered, bruised, broken body to that wood and carelessly jostled it into a standing position. She’d listened to His labored breathing. Watched His pain and agony. Felt it as though it was her own. Although tears flowed in endless torrents down her face, she made not one sound. No cries of anger. No screams of pain. No abusive words to the soldiers. She didn’t fling herself at the foot of the cross to howl out her grief. No. In that dark moment, when her firstborn Son hung dying for no fault of His own so He could offer eternal life to undeserving mankind, Mary’s faithful heart echoed the same word it had repeated over and over again throughout the preceding decades. Mary said, “Yes,” to the will and way of the Father. (John 19:25-27)

My heart breaks at the scene. Not just over the immense injustice and unmitigated brutality. It breaks over the woman at the foot of the cross. The woman who has spent her entire motherhood yielding to a power greater than her own. A mother standing by and saying, “Yes,” when her mind was most assuredly screaming, “No!” I have no idea how she did that. My heart is filled with immeasurable respect for the woman we so often brush off as simply “Jesus’ mother”. We pay her no mind, give her no credit. Yet she could teach us so much. Her unending hope and faith and trust in the great plan of God vastly trumps our own. 

So often we stand on the sidelines of our lives attempting to yell instructions at God, inaccurately assuming our nearsighted vision is better than His farsighted plan. How frequently we approach His will with carefully planned arguments and attempted bartering tools. How infrequently we come before Him in absolute faith, trusting that He is for us, working on our behalf. So certain are we of our own superiority in planning and doing that we fail to take advantage of the opportunity to simply rest in the knowledge that God is with us, working for us in the midst of the things we don’t understand, the ones that aren’t going according to plan, the things that seem out of control. How rarely are we courageous enough to sit down, shut up, and let God be God. How unusual it is for our hearts to whisper, “Yes, Lord,” even when our heads are screaming something else entirely.

Perhaps it’s just me, though, who finds myself in this situation. Maybe you have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you have been peacefully whispering, “Yes, Lord,” your entire life with no intention of changing. From the bottom of my heart, I applaud you. Stay the course!  Lead the way! But, if you are down here with me, your feet still made of clay, your heart often barely whimpering out an, “Okay,” because the, “No,” in you is so strong, take heart. We can do this! We, too, can be like Mary. Not on our own, but with the help of Almighty God. 

How do I know? Can I prove it? You bet I can! The Word of God says so. It says the One who is in us is greater than the one who inhabits the world. The God who says we can do anything through Him is greater than the one who is against us. The Father who said His strength is sufficient for every problem, every trial, every ounce of suffering has promised and nothing can stop Him from fulfilling His word! So take heart! Anchor your hope and faith securely in the God who never abandons His people. Trust Him. Trust Him to know what you don’t know. Trust Him to do what you can’t do. Rest your soul in His promises, keep your mind stayed on Him, let His peace fill you, and just like Mary, may you confidently whisper, “Yes, Lord!”  (I John 4:4; Romans 8:31; Philippians 4:13; II Corinthians 12:9; Ezekiel 12:28; Deuteronomy 31:8; Isaiah 26:3-4)

With the final stroke of Malachi’s pen, the prophets fell silent. For 400 years they remained such, their tongues and pens still. The people who originally held so much hope of the imminent birth of the Christ-child had passed away. Ensuing generations would gradually grow less and less hopeful. Tired of waiting. Tired of hoping. Tired of wondering if they had misinterpreted the sacred text. 

Where was God anyway? Never had he been late in fulfilling His promises. What was taking so long? When the captives in Egypt cried out to God for release, He sent Moses and Aaron to rescue them. When the waters of the Red Sea trapped them helpless at the mercy of their captors, He didn’t hand them directions for a year-long bridge-building project. He parted that water then and there. When they needed water and food in their trek through the desert, He didn’t drop down a packet of seeds and a shovel for them to plant and wait for the harvest. He covered the ground in manna and had Moses strike a rock. Over and over again, when faced with unbeatable enemies, God had never needed days or weeks, months or years to invent and implement a strategy for salvation. Not even once. He’d had it ready before they even needed it. All they had to do was ask. (Exodus 7; Exodus 14:21; Exodus 17; Psalm 105; II Chronicles 20)

So what was the hold-up? Centuries had passed since God had promised the Messiah would come and dwell among them. It hadn’t happened. He hadn’t come. No matter how patiently they waited and hoped. Regardless how fervently they prayed and begged. In spite of their constant glances heavenward, the skies remained brass. God remained silent. They couldn’t see His hand at work so, steeped in discouragement, they determined He wasn’t working at all. 

They desperately wished He was. They wished He would send the promised Christ-child. It would make their lives so much easier if only He would come and silence the critics. It would make the embarrassment of unfulfilled waiting more palatable. The scoffers constantly asking where their Messiah was would suddenly be speechless. The naysayers forever wondering what was holding Him up would have their answer. The doubters always questioning if there had been a misinterpretation, if the prophets had simply been too aged to accurately hear the voice of God would know without a doubt that their waiting had not been in vain. As it stood, the continued waiting added up to so much speculation and taunting it was easier to pretend the cynics were right, to agree there could have possibly been a mistake. 

There was no mistake. In that 400 years of alleged silence, God was busy. He was doing what the prophets could never do, what they could never adequately express, what they would run out of ink attempting to record. Kingdoms would rise and fall. Prophecies would be fulfilled. People would be given opportunity after opportunity to place their faith and hope in the promise of God and trust Him for the fulfillment. Even when the answer was a long time coming. Not everyone stayed the course. Religious factions were born. The path to eternal life leaned heavily on works and adherence to the law. People quit believing God was sending a rescue, so they attempted to make one of their own. Because they were so busy being god for themselves, they largely failed to notice when the heavens responded.

When everyone believed God was unmoving, inactive, non-verbal, He moved. Into this silence, He spoke. Words of hope to one of the few still listening, still believing hearts. To Zechariah he sent an angel with the news of a child. To people who had long since relegated their hope of procreation to the rubbish bin, God said, “Let there be life.” And there was.

Born of God’s alleged inaction, John the Baptist came to prepare the way for Jesus Christ. There was little fanfare. The miraculous circumstances of his birth would go unnoticed. It had happened before. Barren births littered their history. Sarah. Rebekah. Rachel. Hannah. God had been speaking life into barren places since the dawn of time. There would be no glory or glamour. No one would revere or respect him. His demise would rest on the evil whim of a wicked woman and her corrupt child. But his work. His work would be imperative. (Genesis 11:30, 25:21, 29:31; I Samuel 1-2; Matthew 14:1-12; Genesis 1-2)

It would be an onerous task. Not only would he have to take on the pagans and infidels, he would have to sway those who already believed they knew the way to God. Those who had chosen to throw in with the idea that forgiveness of sin and eternal life could be earned by legalistic adherence to the law. Those who had chosen to stop waiting for the promised Messiah and create a way to Heaven on their own. Those who mistakenly believed there was a side door, a rear entrance, an unguarded gate through which they could eternally enter the presence of Almighty God. (Matthew 3; Luke 3:1-22)

John the Baptist was tasked with straightening out the crooked paths of twisted human thinking. He was charged with preparing people who now doubted Jesus’ coming, to accept Him when He came. He was assigned the duty of preparing hearts now set in their ways to change for the better when Jesus called them. John was precisely placed in a society poised to reject the Messiah out of hand, to show them that their kingdoms were for a lifetime, but the kingdom of God would have no end. His mission was to convince society to open their eyes, lift up their heads, and be ready. Jesus was coming. Coming to do a work in their day that they would never believe could happen until they saw it. (Habakkuk 1:5; Isaiah 9:6-7; Luke 1:76-79; Mark 1:1-8) 

As a teenager, depressed by the deepening evil of the world around me, I once mentioned to my Dad how scary it was to be living in those times. He vehemently disagreed. “Oh, no,” he said, “These are the most exciting times to be a Christian! Isn’t it exciting to see what God is going to do next?!” Decades later I find myself wholeheartedly agreeing. The angels are not silently waiting for the signal to blow the final trump. The saints are not holding their applause awaiting that rapturous announcement. God is not sitting silently as the world spirals out of control. Oh no, friend. God is still very busy. He is up to something so amazing you wouldn’t believe it even if I had space to type it all.  

And He wants us to be part of it. He wants us to stop looking forlornly around, bemoaning the horrific state of the world in general and our society specifically, and remember that He is not finished working. Instead of clustering together in clandestine meetings encouraging one another to continue white-knuckling until the second coming, we need to place our faith in His word and believe He still wants to do magnificent work in our day. We need to know in our hearts and believe in our heads that He is not through with humanity. He has not quit calling people to Himself. He has not stopped saving souls. In this moment, when we are tempted to believe the shots have all been called, the moves have all been made, God wants to sweep in and do amazing work in our day that will silence the critics, confound the naysayers, and dump the doubters on their heads. Do you believe it? 

Do you believe that into the spiritual silence of recent years, God wants to once again send the saving grace of Jesus Christ? Do you believe He is calling you to prepare the way? He is. He is calling you to repentance, revival, renewal. He is calling you to examine your own heart and life. Clean it out. Clear out any obstructions to the presence of God within you, the work of God in your life. Sow righteousness and love in those places you’ve let lie dormant. Grow attitudes and actions that vibrantly exhibit the grace of God in your life. Let the peace of God so fill your heart and soul and mind that the chaos of this world absolutely cannot shake you. Allow the excitement of the living, present, active Jesus Christ to spill from your soul and flow to the barren lives around you. Step out of your comfort zone, your happy place, your fulfillment center and go be a way-maker. Make way for the glorious work of Jesus Christ! (Hosea 10:2; Joel 2:12-13; Philippians 4:6; Matthew 3:8, 5:16; )

Centuries ago, after centuries of silence, God sent Jesus into a broken, bruised, barren world starving for hope and help and healing. In spite of the valiant work of John the Baptist, so many missed Him. Although Jesus has long since ascended to sit by the Father, He still walks among us. The world today is just as broken and bruised and spiritually barren as it was then. People are still starving for hope and help and healing. Just as John the Baptist was called to prepare the way for Jesus then, we are called to do so now. Called to be way-makers. Called to clear the way for God to work and move among us. May we choose to answer the call. May we choose to be way-makers. May revival fill our land. Isn’t the very thought exciting? (Habakkuk 3:2; Luke 4:16-30; Mark 16:19; Psalm 85:6)

His heart lightened as his gaze fell over the gathered people. The worst of times had finally birthed the best of times. It had been a long time coming. A long, treacherous trek.  Many had been the roadblocks and near-certain cessation of the journey. Some days required every ounce of his God-given courage. Often sleepless nights were spent in broken prayers for wisdom. Hours of instructions and leading and encouraging the people had nearly drained his emotional fortitude. He wouldn’t change a thing. The hardships had all been worth it. The outcome was greater than he could have hoped.

When he’d first been given the report, Nehemiah almost wished he hadn’t asked. Although some of the Jewish exiles had returned to Jerusalem, their life wasn’t better. They were struggling. They were in despair, reproach, shame. The wall around Jerusalem, built to keep out their considerable enemies, was in miserable disrepair. Sections were broken. Stones had fallen out. Part had been consumed by fire. Other places appeared as though no wall had ever existed. They were defenseless. Completely vulnerable. Unprotected. Living in constant anxiety and fear of enemy encounters. More importantly, no one was doing anything about it. It broke his heart. Weighted his soul. Troubled his countenance. Enough to draw the attention of the king. (Nehemiah 1)

Perhaps it wouldn’t have taken much for the king to notice a change in Nehemiah’s demeanor. He was the cupbearer, after all. The man whose life stood between King Artaxerxes and death by poisoned wine. His character was impeccable. His loyalty absolute. Perhaps over time they had forged a bond. A relationship where they could speak freely with one another. The king could bemoan current affairs. The servant could offer insight regarding those outside the palace walls. The Bible doesn’t actually tell us the exact nature of the relationship, but it seems safe to assume Nehemiah had more pull with Artaxerxes than a simple sipper. Maybe the notice came from an oddly formed friendship. Perhaps it flowed from a silence normally filled with chatter. Maybe it sprang from a perceived continual threat of death. Most likely, it was an answer to the prayers Nehemiah had been continually crying out to his God. 

For days he’d been fasting and praying. Reminding himself of who God is. Confessing sin on behalf of himself and the people in Jerusalem. Failures and foibles and outright rebellions. There were no excuses. None could ever be acceptable. They deserved punishment. But God is faithful. Years before, in another time, another place, God made a promise. If they would return to Him and keep His commandments he would gather His people together back to the place He had chosen to place His name. It would be a fantastic work, and Nehemiah wanted to be part of it. He simply needed permission to go. A softened royal heart. A willing kingly hand.

In another time, another place, under a different king, the response to Nehemiah’s grief and outlandish requests might have been different. It would take little time to list kings and leaders whose hardened hearts would have happily refused his appeal. But God was already at work. Artaxerxes rubber-stamped the requests. All of them. Leave of absence. Letters of passage. Leverage with lumbermen. Nehemiah had passed the first hurdle. 

It wouldn’t be the last. Although the letters allowed him to pass, he made no friends on his journey. The governors of the intervening provinces were not pleased to see him or hear of his intent. No one wished him well or offered help. His survey of the dilapidated wall around Jerusalem was even more discouraging than his imagination had dreamed. Broken walls. Burned gates. Crushed rubble. Everything needed rebuilding. It would take weeks of steady work and the hands of many willing workers. It would also take armed guards. (Nehemiah 2)

For so long the city of Jerusalem had sat unprotected, fair game for bandits, marauding kings, and criminals. Easy prey with no wall of protection. Anything of value continually at risk of being carted away. Property. Women. Children. The wall would make it a fortress. A place that could offer at least a modicum of safety and peace to its inhabitants. A place into which no one could sneak for dastardly activities. A place Sanballat and Tobiah weren’t interested in having created. Gathering their cohorts, they concocted a plan to stop the work. 

Seeds of discord, confusion and misinformation spread throughout the surrounding Jewish communities. Some said the builder’s strength was failing. Some thought they would never accomplish such a monumental task. Others begged them to just come live with them. But God is not surprised or stymied by the ridiculous things that flow from man’s lips. He strengthened them through the words of Nehemiah. “Do not fear them. Remember the might and power of your God. Keep fighting. Keep working.” And they did. 

With posted guards and every man armed, they kept working. When the enemy came against them with words and threats, they kept working. When fear held them in a grip so perilous their flight response seemed the best option, they held fast and kept working. Why? Because they knew the words of Nehemiah were true. God was with them. God would be their strength. God would fight for them. And He did. (Nehemiah 3-4)

Fifty-two days from the start of the project, in spite of perils and troubles and threats and feuds, the wall was finished. The harrowing journey was over. Jerusalem was again a walled, gated, protected city. Celebratory excitement filled the air. Rejoicing and praising rang from their lips. For the first time in decades they felt a sense of rest. It was a moment they would never forget. Resounding with words they would never forget, a call to worship came from the lips of the Levites strongly resembling the words of Nehemiah when he first asked for their help in rebuilding the wall, “Get on your feet!” Get up. Get busy. The wall was finished but their job was not. There was more to do. They needed to bless the Lord.

It would have been so easy for the people to settle into their new, more secure life and forget everything that had made it possible. The blood. The sweat. The tears. Their misguided human minds could have put praise where it didn’t belong. Their hardworking selves. Their fearless leader Nehemiah. The generous king Artaxerxes who provided safe passage for Nehemiah and access to lumber for beams and building. In their joyous excitement to have the wall of Jerusalem and the gates of the Temple back in place, it would have been simple to forget God altogether. Except they couldn’t. The Levites wouldn’t let them. 

They wouldn’t let them remember only the most recent victory. No. They took them back to the dawn of time. The moment when their omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent God, the One who exists from eternity to eternity, spoke the earth and all within it into existence. They reminded them that it is only through Him that humanity lives and breathes and is. He is their God. The God who entered into a one-sided covenant with His people. Knowing they were likely to fail at keeping their half, He entered just the same because His love, His longing for them was too great to deny. Time and again their sin had them in bondage, afflicted, abused. But God had rescued them over and over again, ready to forgive, gracious, merciful, full of unconditional love. His guidance and protection had brought them through the desert into kingdoms with great possessions. Eventually, they forgot Him again, but He never forgot them. Every time they cried, He answered. He continually kept His side of the covenant no matter how often they botched theirs. They needed to look back, even if they weren’t going that way, remember the amazing things God had done for His people, and get on their feet in praise and thanksgiving to their magnificent God!  (Nehemiah 5-9)

So do you. At a time when it is easy to look around you and be discouraged, disappointed, dispirited, don’t. Look back! As far back as your mind can remember. Recount the miraculous things God has done. All of them. Go back to the dawn of time. Read Genesis 1. Allow yourself to be amazed that from nothing God made everything. Recount Jesus’ birth. Find the accounts in Matthew and Luke. Read them for yourself. Let the wonder of the virgin birth wash over you again as if it was the first time you’ve heard it. Ponder Calvary. Feel the pain of nails maliciously driven through flesh. Hear the anguished cry of “It is finished!” Watch his chest heave that final time. Accept the responsibility, the knowledge, it was for you. It was all for you. Every tear. Every pain. Every drop of blood. Freedom from guilt and sin and hell. You don’t deserve it. Could never earn it. Yet still it was done. All for you. (Matthew 1-2, 27; Luke 2, 23; Mark15; Romans 5:6) 

So why are you still sitting there? Get on your feet! Get busy! Bless the Lord your God! He is always with you, rejoicing over you with singing. He daily covers you with His blessings, even when you don’t see them. His love for you is eternal, immovable, unmeasurable, even when you don’t feel it. His heart for you is Heaven, even when it seems a long way off. He’ll do anything to get you there, even if it takes a long trek through a dark valley of enemies. God has always been there, will always be there. This absolute truth should make your heart resound, your soul rise up, your voice cry out. The heavens should be exploding with the sounds of your praise. You should be on your feet!  (Zephaniah 3:17; Psalm 68:19; Jeremiah 31:3; II Peter 3:9; Psalm 23:4; Psalm 100; Psalm 150)