Hope on the Horizon

They walk in the desert, footsteps heavy, bodies weary, running away from the terror behind them. The grabbed what they could carry as they hurried away from the only home they had ever known- a home that was a place of familiarity and also fear and pain and headed into the unknown. Fear pervades their entire experience. Fear of what is behind them. Fear of what is ahead of them. Fear of what might happen to them. And yet they walk, step after step, mile after mile, surrounded by friends and family, and also strangers. They do not know where they are going. Direction, sure, but place? Not really. Knowing a place requires experience, and their whole experience has been limited to where they lived before. All they know about that place is that they aren’t going back. Why would they. It is a place of suffering, pain, and death, and while from time to time in this desolate, scary place they look back and miss the familiarity, they do not miss the terror and insecurity.

So they walk through strange lands towards a promised land. And they follow the God that is on the horizon, alternating between fire and cloud, guiding them each step along the way. And while they are not there yet, while their future homeland is still in the distance, they walk because Hope is on the Horizon.

The story of the people of the bible is bathed in the Exodus experience. If you pay even remote attention, you’ll notice exodus language showing up repeatedly through both the hold and new testaments, and among the prophets especially. It is both an experience and a memory, and also a lens through which they understand their current place. It is something to remember, the intervention of a God who sees, the advent of a God who provides, the inbreaking of hope, of light in the darkness. To understand the Exodus is to understand God, at least as much as it is possible. I always imagine that the hardest part of the exodus was the time in the wilderness. At least Egypt was familiar, even if insufferable. And Canaan was the promised land, even if life there wasn’t perfect. But the Wilderness? The wilderness is in-between, where the familiar is behind, the promises are ahead, and the here-and-now is just a patch of dirt that isn’t home. Those in the wilderness have a choice. To either long for what is behind. Or to hope for what is ahead.

Zechariah was the “hope-for-what-is-ahead” type. He came from a long line of priests- his wife herself was a descendant of Aaron, family of Moses, people of the Exodus some centuries before. And like others before them, he and his wife had gone childless for years and years, and felt doomed to remain so. So when a messenger from God informs him that God has heard their prayer and that his wife will soon become pregnant, he balks. All the hope and lineage and story doesn’t prepare you for being on the receiving end of the inbreaking of God. And because he hesitates, he looses his voice and remains unable to speak for what is likely in the neighborhood of a year, give or take. And Zechariah is stuck waiting. Unable to speak, unable to explain, unable to fully involve himself in either his work or his family life. When his son is born, Elizabeth tells the family that they’re naming him John and the family looses their minds- you can’t name him that, that’s not a family name. What are you thinking? Why on earth would you give him that name? And Zechariah walks over and writes down “HIS NAME IS JOHN” and in that act of trust again finds his voice. And when he realizes hes able to speak, when he realizes that his time in that particular wilderness is done, he speaks, and the first words out of his mouth are powerful, prophetic words about his child, another child to come, and in the inbreaking of God.

The New Revised Standard Version Zechariah’s Prophecy

67 Then his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke this prophecy:

68 “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,

for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.

69 He has raised up a mighty savior for us

in the house of his servant David,

70 as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,

71 that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us.

72 Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors,

and has remembered his holy covenant,

73 the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham,

to grant us 74 that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies,

might serve him without fear, 75 in holiness and righteousness

before him all our days.

76 And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;

for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,

77 to give knowledge of salvation to his people

by the forgiveness of their sins.

78 By the tender mercy of our God,

the dawn from on high will break upon us,

79 to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,

to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

80 The child grew and became strong in spirit, and he was in the wilderness until the day he appeared publicly to Israel.

We don’t really have to wonder about what Zechariah was focused on during his God-imposed silence. A person in the wilderness can either look backwards and long for what is behind, or forwards and hope for what is coming, and Zechariah looks forward to the work of God, looks forward in Hope for something that is not yet here but is certainly on the way. A God who looks favorably on his people and chooses to work on their behalf for their redemption. A God who saves. A God who provides both guidance and sustenance. A God who keeps promises. A God who forgives. A God who brings light, blasting light into dark places. A God who both brings and teaches peace. A God who is near-and-coming-nearer.

Hope drives Zechariah. A Hope that the provision of God and the work of God will result in the Salvation by God of the people of Israel. Zechariah hopes without fully knowing what to hope for, without fully knowing what is to come, without fully understanding the extent to which God’s work will go. But knowing that God is working is enough to keep him hoping. In fact, even though this is still just a promise, even though none of these things has actually come to pass, and even though Jesus is not yet born at the time that Zechariah utters the words, his certainly of God’s fulfillment of God’s promises allows him to act and live as if they have already come to pass. That chaos does not overpower God, and in fact that God steps into the chaos.

The question for us is, are we willing to wait in hope, even when the word around us feels less than hopeful? Are we willing to continue to believe in a God who steps into the Chaos? Are we willing to hope in a God who saves?

So often we lean on our own solutions. And while I’m not suggesting we do nothing and just idly sit around waiting for things to happen, I do think we trust our ideas and solutions more than we do Gods without realizing or consulting God in prayer, Gods word, or Godly people who speak truthful words to us. We balk, much like Zechariah initially does. But he turns to hope. Will we?