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Today, I am typing from an earth-brown chair by a tame fireplace in Cannon Beach, Oregon where I am attending my final two DMin classes. The day is perfect for writing and I woke up with anticipation, excited to write.

Blogging is a newer focus for me. Honestly, for years I could not come up with a sustainable motivation for blogging until recently when God supplied one: blog for the love of others; blog as a friend, as a mentor, to invest in their spiritual formation. Today my offering toward that end is from barely dry ink in my journal.

For the last ten years, I have been reading the Bible more slowly. The previous two decades of inductive study methodology and reading-through-the-Bible-in-a-year had served my soul well. But I sensed a shift; an invitation to linger longer in words, to rest in them and let them simmer in me. The practice is ancient though I was introduced to it through the writings of a more modern mentor.

So for 3.5 years, I slowly read the book of Mark and in January 2014 my attention turned to the slow reading of Luke. Ten months later, I am still in chapter one because each sentence, each phrase, has been rich for me. For the past few months, I have been lingering in the interaction between Zechariah and Gabriel in the temple (Luke 1.11-20). My thoughts this morning rested upon a small phrase in Lk 1.18:

“I am an old man.”

Though the parallel between Zechariah’s “I am an old man” and Gabriel’s, “I am Gabriel” at first interested me, this small confession from Zechariah captivates me.

zechariahZechariah was a strong man. A few seconds earlier, he was “startled and gripped with fear” (v. 12) and now (v. 18) he is questioning the words of an angel. As I said, he was a strong man: disappointment kept in God’s presence creates such strength.

But I am struck by what Zechariah did not say. He did not say, “God can’t or won’t do that.” Zechariah did not question God’s faithfulness or willingness or ability.

What stood in the way of the miracle, from Zechariah’s perspective, was himself: “I am an old man.”

In other words, “It can’t be done through me because I’m too ______ or not enough _____ and the people I’m with suffer the same constraints. The problem, Gabriel, is specifically that I’m old. There may have been a time when such a wondrous thing could have been done through me, but that day is gone. This container is well past its expiration date of being able to hold that dream.”

“I’m an old man.”

It’s no longer possible.

Who I am stands in the way of a miracle.

Have you ever felt that who you are stands in the way of a miracle?

“I am an old man” are words of one who does not question God’s holiness. These are the words of one whose dearest longing has surrendered to logic, to realism, and to the facts.

However,

when our dream really is God’s dream,

God is not obligated to give it up when we do.

Personally, this all feels very, very familiar. Though not a man and not (that) old, I have a few dear deep longings that have finally over time surrendered to logic, to realism, to the facts. When others kindly mention the possibility of their fulfillment, my God hears me sigh, “Oh, wouldn’t that be beautiful. Other lives can still contain such a miracle. But, it seems that my day for that miracle is past.”

And this small glimpse into Zechariah’s soul warms me. The story confirms once again God’s character, which is the surest place to invest my hope. In effect, Gabriel responds, “Yes, you are an old man…and I stand in the presence of God.” (v. 19)

God holds all my longings whether buried or alive.

Though I have never ended a post this way,

I would like to end this time with a question:

Does Zechariah’s “I am an old man”

feel familiar to you too?

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