Stories of underdogs have long fired my imagination. From the Biblical classic “David and Goliath” to Cervantes’ “Man of La Mancha”, I love stories of great courage against impossible odds. I suppose that in my heart of hearts I want to be an idealist. I want to “dream the impossible dream,” “fight the unbeatable foe,” and “run where the brave dare not go.”
But the longer I live, the more I keep stubbing my toes on reality. I’m gradually realizing that there are some aspirations I had during my 20s that probably won’t be realized in my lifetime. There are aspects of my personality that won’t go away, try as I might to change them. The wisdom of accepting things for what they are is sounding more and more sensible.
This is why I can muster a lot more sympathy these days for Zechariah (Luke 1). God’s messenger appears to this aging priest, announcing that his prayers have been heard and that his wife Elizabeth is pregnant with a son. Zechariah, a battle-weary veteran of disappointment, knows better than to get his hopes up. They have been dashed too many times. The reality is, he and Elizabeth are past their child-bearing years. That opportunity is gone. Better to simply accept what is than to foolishly hope.
But of course the story of Advent (the coming of Christ into the world) transcends hands-in-your-pockets, glum-faced resignation, however prudent it might seem. And so the less jaded Mary (Luke 1), who receives a similar birth announcement, humbly embraces the good news despite her inability to understand it. When the God of the impossible is at work, no telling what might happen.
I’m grateful for this season of Advent (the four week period before Christmas that commemorates Christ’s coming) for exactly this reason. The more comfortable I grow with Zechariah, the more I need to be jarred by the improbable story of Mary, Mary’s God, and Mary’s baby. The more resigned I become to a closed and predictable future, the more I need to be surprised by God’s intrusive, unexpected, inexplicable grace. Advent reminds us that God’s future is not one we can logically anticipate, any more than one could have anticipated the creation, the calling of the Hebrew nation, the Exodus, the incarnation, the resurrection, Pentecost, or the Second Coming. May we, like Mary, keep our hearts open and our spirits willing throughout this season of Advent.
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