Richard Davenport

December 20, 2023 – Advent Midweek 3

Acts 13:13-26, Luke 1:57-80

            When Paul was born, I definitely didn’t know what to make of him.  There was all of this movement, legs and arms going everywhere.  There was crying, both mom and baby.  Then finally a sense of calm.  It was over.  Not over as if everything were done, but that part, that big part, was finally complete. There’s the quote from reformed alcoholic, Charles Dederich who worked to help others overcome their own problems. He said, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.”  I feel like it’s an especially apt statement.

            Once things had settled down a bit, as much as life with a newborn can ever really settle down, you start to take stock of things. Life is going to be very different now. Even if it isn’t your first child, you’re still adding a new person into the mix.  Relationships will change.  The family dynamic will change.  How you spend your time will change.  What will that look like?  What will our family look like in a year, five years, ten years, more?  What kind of person is this little one going to be? What sorts of hobbies will he have? Is he going to gravitate toward the humanities, like his dad, or science and math, like his mom?  Maybe a little of both? 

            The whole story of how John the Baptist came to be is wild and miraculous.  I mean, there’s the visit from the angel.  There’s Zechariah’s doubts and subsequent silencing.  There’s the declaration that his name will be John, unlike any of his relatives.  There’s the angel’s declaration, at least in broad strokes, what kinds of thing John will do.

            Still, it’s hard not to empathize with the family and the neighbors who wonder, “What then will this child be?”  This little bundle has the whole world and a whole life ahead of him.  What will that life be like?  I don’t know. Even if I look at the kind of person I am, the things I like, the personality I have, the things I’m good at, and I look at mom and who she is, any of those things could be here too, or all of them, or none of them.  None of that accounts for what the world around will be like either.  There’s just so much that’s unknown.

            If you dig a little more into Luther’s theology, one of the concepts he explains is that of the hidden and the revealed God.  Not that there are two gods.  Rather, there is one God who relates to the world in two different ways, as a hidden God or as a revealed God.

            God in his hiddenness is how we often relate to him. This is the unknown and unknowable God. The God who is supposed to be out there somewhere but is beyond your ability to find.  You can’t see him.  You can’t hear him.  He may as well not be there at all.  This is the God of uncertainty.  Because you don’t know him, because you can’t know him, you have no foundation.  You have no guarantee of anything good happening. You cry out when you’re scared or in danger but there’s no response.  God is hidden and that means you’re alone.  Like playing hide and seek with someone who is impossible to find, you keep looking and looking but no matter how much effort you put into the search, no matter how desperate you are, you never find what you’re looking for.

            Looking at a tiny baby who is now in your care, that hiddenness is there too, that uncertainty.  I don’t know where this child is going to end up.  Is he going to be good or bad?  Is she going to be kind and compassionate or selfish and vindictive? I can read all of the baby books, I can listen to all of the experts, I can do everything possible to try and bring out one outcome over the other, but there’s still no guarantee.  There never is.

            The same is true of our own lives.  Is taking this job going to be good for me or my family? If I marry this man, will he be the kind of husband who will care for me and my family?  Even when you’re younger, will this school or this apprenticeship get you what you need to take your life in the direction you want to go?

            Unfortunately, you don’t know any of the answers to those questions until you’ve already decided.  The future is hidden and unknowable and because it’s hidden, it’s scary. The hidden God is the God of fear, the God who dispenses his wrath where and when he chooses, the God who calls for vengeance where and when he chooses and there’s nothing at all you can do about it.

            Trying to confront God in his hiddenness is a losing proposition.  You can yell at him, you can cry out to him, you can be angry with him or sad and none of it will change anything.  God will not be found.  You will not find the answers you seek.  You can ask all of these questions about the future, your future, the future of your children, you can demand to know all of these things and you’ll get no response.

            Luther acknowledging how terrible the hidden God is. The God who does not respond to you, who cannot be found by you, is the God of condemnation and hell.  He is the God who has no mercy.

            Luther tells us to flee from the hidden God. Flee from the unknown God. Instead of looking for God in the unknown and unknowable, look for God where he reveals himself.  What does God say about himself?  What does God say about the future?  That’s where you find assurance.  That’s where you find security.  That’s the only place where the uncertainty fades away.

            The story of John’s birth sees these two sides coming into conflict.  The friends, the neighbors, the extended family looks at this tiny little baby boy and wonders “What then will this child be?”  Maybe they didn’t agonize over this or worry about it overly, after all, that’s just how life is.  You don’t know.  Zechariah and Elizabeth didn’t know exactly what the future held for their son.  They didn’t he would eventually be arrested by Herod and executed.  They didn’t know any of that.  But they did know some things.  They knew what God had promised.  God would be with him throughout his life.  He would be doing God’s work.  He would be the one pointing out the arrival of the savior.  God revealed this to them and in revealed this, demonstrated his mercy and love for his people.

            There would be many uncertainties in their future, but this would not be one of them.  God made a promise to Zechariah and Elizabeth and he would not fail to keep it.  He made a promise to John and he would not fail to keep that either.  He makes a promise to you through his preached Word and through his sacraments, that Christ died to save you, that he died to forgive you, that, in Christ, you are righteous once more and made worthy to live in his kingdom forever. He will not fail to keep promise, indeed, he has already given it to you.

            You may not know all of the specifics of what the future holds.  You may not know what job to take or what school to go to or any of those kinds of things.  God doesn’t want you to get lost in all of those details.  He doesn’t want you to get lost in the unknowns.  Instead, look for where he reveals himself.  Look to the promises he makes to you, how he shows you who he is and what he is doing on your behalf.

            As parents, you don’t know what life is going to look like for your family, for your little one, but you know God the Father has claimed him or her as his own through baptism.  He will never abandon his children.  Whether their life is smooth sailing all the way or whether it’s one catastrophe after another, God will be with them.  Their future in Christ’s kingdom is assured.  He has given his promise to them and nothing can take that away from them.