Waiting and Wondering

Waiting and Wondering

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. Both of them were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. But they had no children, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years.

Once when he was serving as priest before God and his section was on duty, he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to enter the sanctuary of the Lord and offer incense. Now at the time of the incense-offering, the whole assembly of the people was praying outside. Then there appeared to him an angel of the Lord, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him. But 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. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for 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. He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. With 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.’ Zechariah 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.’ The 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. But 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.’

Meanwhile, the people were waiting for Zechariah, and wondered at his delay in the sanctuary. When 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. When his time of service was ended, he went to his home.

After those days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she remained in seclusion. She said, ‘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.’

Luke 1:5-25

The mother in me always reads the remarkable and wonderful story of Elizabeth’s pregnancy with my heart in my mouth. Elizabeth and Zechariah were God-fearing people. This later-in-life miracle, foretold by angelic announcement, was a sign of God’s favour and power. And baby John was undoubtedly a joy and delight to his parents, great in the sight of the Lord. As an adult, he alone had the remarkable privilege of baptising his own cousin, Jesus.

But I’ve read ahead. I know where this story goes. Not only does John end up in jail, which catalyses a bewilderment of its own (my paraphrase: “can cousin Jesus really be who he says he is, while I’m languishing here in a Roman prison?”) but the brutal ending of John’s life sees his head served up on a platter, all as a part of a depraved party trick. Where is the justice?

Which leads me to reflect on the life of Berta Isabel Cáteres Flores, daughter of Austra Bertha Flores Lopez. Austa was a midwife, social activist, and later a mayor and congresswoman. Berta, inspired by her mother, became a well-known leader within her indigenous community in Honduras, with a particular focus on environmental preservation. In 2015 she even won the prestigious Goldman award for environmental activism. In 2016 she was assassinated, in her own home. Her desire to see justice come for her own land and people had led her to protest against the development of a hydroelectric dam. Corporate greed saw her pay the ultimate price.

Closer to home I think of an incredibly enriching online book circle that I facilitated this year with a small group of climate conscious Australian women (and one wonderful African man). Though we’d only just met, within 25 minutes someone shared their deep heart’s cry. Her dilemma? How much to keep giving to her work in ecological restoration and climate action. “I’d give my very life”, she said, “if I knew it would make a difference, if it would sufficiently shift the dial. But I’m just not sure any more that it will.” In the light of the sacrifices she was making, she longed for some reassurance that her faithful justice-seeking would count.

Longing to see justice flow like a river can come with an ache, and with bewilderment, and at times with a deep sense of mystery. We live in awkward, and sometimes awful, and occasionally awe-filled, times of waiting and of wondering. 

Advent is an appropriate season for naming our waiting, and for believing and trusting (and reminding one another when we forget) that justice is coming.

Our efforts to love justice can understandably seem infinitesimally small and insignificant some days, but just like droplets that contribute to form a trickle then a stream, by joining together we generate a momentum and flow that becomes an unstoppable force for change. And so we press forward in unity, deeply hopeful that despite the myriad troubles of our times, Jesus’ love and perfect justice will one day flow as a never ending stream.

Claire Harvey and her two children attempt to ‘live lightly’ upon Bunarong land, in Melbourne’s South East. She co-authored A Climate of Hope: Church & Mission in a Warming World (a decade ago) and is an active member of The Village Church community in Mount Eliza. Claire also serves on the Ethos and CoPower boards, and was an elected councillor for Frankston City between 2020 and 2024. Claire finds deep joy out in her backyard veggie garden, as well as journeying alongside others as a vocational & climate conscious coach.

This devotional is part of a series of daily email devotionals for Advent 2024 reflecting on the life-giving, thirst quenching justice of Jesus we long to see flow across these lands. A justice overflowing with love and compassion, bringing forth hope, healing, nourishment and flourishing for all.

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