Trinity Lutheran Church

Luke 1:5-25

5 In the days of King Herod of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly order of Abijah. His wife was a descendant of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. 6Both of them were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. 7But they had no children, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years.
8 Once when he was serving as priest before God and his section was on duty, 9he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to enter the sanctuary of the Lord and offer incense. 10Now at the time of the incense-offering, the whole assembly of the people was praying outside. 11Then there appeared to him an angel of the Lord, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. 12When Zechariah saw him, he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him. 13But the angel said to him, ‘Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. 14You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, 15for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. 16He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. 17With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.’ 18Zechariah said to the angel, ‘How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years.’ 19The angel replied, ‘I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. 20But now, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time, you will become mute, unable to speak, until the day these things occur.’
21 Meanwhile, the people were waiting for Zechariah, and wondered at his delay in the sanctuary. 22When he did come out, he could not speak to them, and they realized that he had seen a vision in the sanctuary. He kept motioning to them and remained unable to speak. 23When his time of service was ended, he went to his home.
24 After those days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she remained in seclusion. She said, 25‘This is what the Lord has done for me when he looked favourably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.’
 
 The church was dark…and a dark church can be a very creepy church.

 Maybe you’ve been in here, in the dark. Back in the eighties, when I was an intern, I’d sometimes come over here to work on something on a Saturday night…but I never stayed long.

 Big, dark churches give you the willies. Even when you’re a grown man. They creak and moan. The shadows dance about as the cars with their headlights drive past. There is something imposing about it, something that can get into your head and make you very uncomfortable…like I said, I never stayed in here too long back then…

 But now, of course, I’ve become immune, I know the sounds, the shadows, and I’ve been here too many times to have my mind tricked into believing anything creepy is going on here. I know it’s ok to be here at night, alone….

 Pastor Nelson knew that, too…he knew the creaks and the moans of his old, dark church, and they had ceased to bother him. What was bothering him was something else. It was the night before the congregational meeting and his congregation was embroiled in turmoil. The reason? The question of whether or not to replace the 40 year-old sanctuary rug.

 But it went, of course, beyond that. Yes, there was a dividing line between the “rug replacers” and those who felt the old rug was good enough for their grandparents and thus good enough for them. But there was another dividing line—three lines, in fact, within the group that wanted to get rid of the rug.

There were the traditionalists: a group that wanted to replace the rug and restore it to its exact pile and color. The same pile and color that it had been when installed in the 60s.

 There were the radicals: those who wanted the new carpet to look like a new carpet. Some of the younger women were even suggesting a shade of blue! A suggestion that was causing some of the older members to blush and pause in the parking lot to engage in conversations beginning with the line, “Can you believe that…”

 And finally, there were the orthodox. Those who had discovered, in their searching of the holy books containing the church’s history, that a hardwood floor existed beneath the rug. This group felt that, no matter what the expense, the rug should be removed and the floor restored. To make matters worse, the organist was in league with this gang—claiming the wooden floors would make her fugues more fearsome and her toccatas more tasty.

 Pastor Nelson entered his church late that Saturday night not sure what he was going to say the next morning. He knew this…he needed a word. A word of GOD.

 And he was completely unprepared for what happened next. As he entered his church from the back, he looked up, and there, standing before the pulpit, shining with the brightest light imaginable, was an angel.

 And for the first time in years, Pastor Nelson felt afraid in his big, dark, church.

 “John,” said the angel. “I have been sent to help you. You want a word to share with your congregation, but you are not looking for the right word.”

 “What…what do you mean?” Pastor Nelson sputtered.

 “You are seeking a word that will take this conflict and make it go away,” the angel continued. “But you, and the people of your church, are missing the point. God does not care about your rug.”

 “But…but it is God’s rug.” Pastor Nelson replied.

 “OF COURSE IT’S GOD’S RUG!” the angel roared. “The point is the argument is foolish and shows the error of your ways.”

 “I’m…I’m sorry,” the pastor said. He was a little frightened now. He had never heard an angel yell before. “What, what am I to do? What should I say?”

 “You shall tell them that they have strayed from the word of God. And that they have confused the truth of Christ with the things of this world.”

 “What?”

 “You shall tell them that their rug is unimportant. That what is important is the gospel.”

 “Really?”

 “You shall tell them that they have confused the decorations of the church with the purposes of God.”

 “I’m going to say that?”

 “Yes you are,” the angel said. “And you are going to tell them to repent.”

 The angel’s eyes flashed fire as he spoke. His voiced sounded of thunder and Pastor Nelson’s knees knocked. So he was probably as surprised as the angel when the following words popped out of his mouth:

 “I can’t say that! They’ll, they’ll fire me!”
 

Sometimes, it’s best to keep quiet.

 Now some people believe that angels do not curse, and in a technical sense this is true. They are unable to use bad language. But they most certainly can bring curses and doom and the anger of God when they have not been taken at their word. And that’s what happened next. Pastor Nelson did not really hear it all—he was too busy laying in a ball on the rattling floor, covering his ears in response to the angelic tirade, hoping the very walls of the church would not collapse in the heat of the angel’s anger.

 But eventually, the tirade stopped, and the angel said. “John, look at me.”

 Pastor Nelson did.

 “Because you have not taken me at my word, and because you have placed your purposes before those of God, you have brought punishment upon yourself and this place. A punishment that will, hopefully, teach you the truth.”
 And with that, the angel was gone. And John realized he was no longer standing on the church rug, but rather the crumbling old, foam rubber backing that had been underneath it. But…the rug wasn’t the only thing missing. Pastor Nelson’s greatest love. The thing that gave him his sense of power and security when he spoke to his people was no longer there.

 The pulpit had vanished. And Pastor Nelson felt frightened, and naked, and alone.

Zechariah entered the holy of holies…the most sacred place in Judaism and was met by the angel, Gabriel. Zechariah, a man who knew his bible, knew his stories, who had been raised in the traditions, met Gabriel himself and heard him speak words that should have echoed with truth to the very base of his being: “Your wife will conceive a son…”

These words should have brought joy to his soul. For they are almost the exact words spoken to his forefather Abraham, another old man given an absurd promise, a promise which had been fulfilled, and a promise Zechariah was part of.

But rather than take the angel at his word, the wall of Zechariah’s understanding of human biology, his understanding of “the rules” gets in his way:  “How will I know this is true?”

Sometimes, it’s best to keep quiet.

And Gabriel is insulted. He has come bearing a gift and the foolish old man wants a sign. You want a sign? Here’s your sign. Get used to talking with your hands.

We wrap ourselves up in our ideas about what God does and doesn’t do. What God wants and doesn’t want. But human sin, being what it is, often gets us to mistake what God wants with what WE want.

And the story of Zechariah shows us something very important. God makes God’s own rules and rule number one is, God doesn’t care about the rules.

Nice people do this, but they don’t do that. Respectable folk dress this way, not that way. God only cares about us, not about them.

The pastor should dress a certain way and the sermon should come from the pulpit. Communion has to be taken this way and you can only use this kind of bread. We should sing this kind of song but not that kind.

 The thing with rules is this. They are meant, in the beginning, to give us wisdom, or to teach us, or even to help us get closer to God. But because of human sin they have a terrible tendency to become more important than they should be. They can even get in the way of God.

 Pastor Nelson’s church was in an uproar. Where was the carpet? The dust from the foam was making Aunt Gertrude sneeze. Some of the orthodox were pulling the foam up in the corner, debating how many coats of varnish the floor would take. Others were almost shouting—“Who did this?” And it wasn’t long before someone said—“I’ll bet Pastor did it.”

 Pastor Nelson stood where his battleship, his pulpit, had been. “Please…” he kept saying. “If you’ll just sit down…I can explain.” But the unruly mob paid no heed until, finally, something he had never felt before welled up in the core of his being, “SIT DOWN!”

 The congregation was stunned…but they sat, and they listened. And he told them of the angel…told them of their sin…confessed his own sin, and everybody, on that day, heard the truth. And they realized the truth is bigger than our expectations; mightier than our rules; and completely unconcerned with the color of the carpet in the room, or whether or not a pulpit is even present.

 Hear this with gladness: our prayer has been heard. We have been given a savior, and he has come to break down the walls—even the ones we foolishly construct for ourselves. Hear this with gladness; he has come to you no matter how old you are, or young you are. Hear this with gladness: he comes without our deserving, because God will have it no other way. Hear this with gladness, he comes out of love, bringing love, and knowing love will triumph even over our doubts, selfishness and fear. Hear this with gladness: God has come for us.