13.06 | Silence & Song
Luke 1:57-2:7
‘And they made signs to his father, inquiring what he wanted him to be called. And he asked for a writing tablet and wrote, “His name is John.” And they all wondered. And immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke, blessing God.’
Luke 1:62-64
As soon as our daughter Estie could talk, she started singing.
She’d sing in the bath and in the car, she’d sing while playing and while watching TV. She’d sing when we were out walking or she was climbing trees in the garden. Over a decade later, she’s in the school gospel choir and the end of year musical. Estie’s singing is part of the background soundtrack to our home.
As Luke’s Gospel opens, there’s a lot of outbursts of praise and prophecies that have formed language for the Church’s song for the past two thousand years. Yesterday we had Mary’s song. Tomorrow the angels will sing to the shepherds. And today, old Zechariah bursts into song after his nine months of total silence. Traditionally, it is called the Benedictus—a name again informed by the first word of the song: Blessed.
A word on Zechariah’s silence, and a word on his song.
A word on Zechariah’s silence first. Because it’s easy to read Zechariah being unable to speak as a somewhat arbitrary punishment, after not believing Gabriel’s words in the temple. But the Bible never operates on arbitrary or superficial levels. It always invites us deeper—to deeper truths and deeper understanding. Zechariah’s muteness was not a random punishment for a minor mistake; rather it was in his silence that he healed. It was not merely the taking of his words, but the refinement of them. It was not merely lack, but rather was a beautiful gift.
Because, in those months of silence, Zechariah stopped talking and started listening. And in the quiet of those days, something happened in his heart. Unbeknown to those around him, a steady work of transformation was taking place, moving him from the skepticism of intellect to the graceful wonder at the workings of of God. He was moving from the cynicism of years of disappointment and tradition, to the prophetic openness of a heart that again learns how to relax, let go, and receive the Kingdom.
As he wrote on that tablet, His name is John, his mouth was loosed. And it was loosed with a new song.
It was a song of worship and joy. It was a song of ancient truths overspilling into his contemporary moment. It was a song of rescue and victory. It was a song of a Kingdom of a living God, advancing and moving and invading the territory of all the sickly and deathly enemies of God. It was song of alignment with the words of the angel, no longer skeptical and small, but expansive and rich and glorious.
There are seasons in life when we might feel like we’re muted. Like all those things we want to say and do feel suppressed. There are environments we find ourselves in and seasons we live through, when the message we know is inscribed into our lives feels muted and restrained. Sometimes this lasts months. Sometimes it lasts years.
And yet, Zechariah shows us something. He shows us that these times of muteness can be the very environment in which God sculpts and crafts our words, holding and drawing our attention, refining and inspiring the message of our life, until we’re ready for it to burst out in the tone and texture of heaven itself.
And when it does so, we might find that it is not so much the tidy words of the clever or the refined. We might just find that our words have found a different spirit, animated into the wild and passionate words that ring from heaven itself, introducing new possibilities into the world of noise that could only be found in the wrestling question marks of silence.
Silence is hard. It can feel endless. It can feel hopeless.
But take heart. Give this season to the Lord, day by day by day. He may just be crafting you a Benedictus spirit, as the cry in your heart becomes more and more and more purely,
Blessed be the Lord God of Israel.
Reflect:
How would you describe this season in your life: silence, or song?
Offer it to God. Relax into Him who can transform all seasons for the purification and transformation of your song, until it forms to the ideals of heaven.
Pray:
Father in heaven,
I’ve known seasons of feeling muted.
I’ve known what it is to be undervalued, overlooked, ignored;
I’ve known what it is to be working in the wrong place—
Where my message and ideas and the burnings of this heart
Just didn’t seem to fit in.
And yet,
Father,
I trust you with my steps.
I ask you to invade my seasons of silence
With the deeper refining in this soul
Of a purer kind of song—
Until the expressions of this heart are honed
To be an expression of yours,
Where this life,
Becomes a declaration of your life,
Unto the turning of the world around me
Toward the saving beauty
Of the Messiah King.
In Jesus’ Name,
Amen
Old Testament:
For those also reading the Old Testament this year, your additional readings are here:
2 Kings 16-18 | Psalm 74:1-17