This past Christmas season, my attention was captured by the person of Zachariah. The angel revealed to him that his wife was to have a baby, a child who would be the long-foretold forerunner of the Messiah (Mal. 3:1; Lk. 1:14-17). We all know that, because of his doubt, the Lord forced him to be silent until after the baby was born. Can you imagine being filled with such wonderful news: first, having a baby in their old age, and not just any baby, but one who was to play an important role in the coming of the Messiah? Once he saw it happening, as the baby grew and kicked inside Elizabeth, he must have been near bursting with excitement to share the news with everyone. Yet, the Lord kept him silent for more than nine long months. You may ask why has this part of the historical account taken on such a special meaning for me this year? The answer is that back in midNovember I lost my voice, and the doctors don’t seem to know why. For six weeks before Christmas I was left speechless. Here I am living in a new city, making new friends and I am bursting with the desire to share with them the good news of Christmas, and yet I was forced to stay silent. No Christmas caroling at my neighbour’s place, no Christmas lessons at English corner, just silence. Yet I have to believe that just as God saw fit to bring Himself glory through imposing speechlessness on Zachariah, that He is also fully in control of my vocal situation and can be glorified through these long weeks of silence.
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