“But the angel said unto him, Fear not, Zacharias: for thy prayer is heard; and thy wife Elisabeth shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John”. (Luke 1:13)
“And it came to pass, that on the eighth day they came to circumcise the child; and they called him Zacharias, after the name of his father. And his mother answered and said, Not so; but he shall be called John. And they said unto her, There is none of thy kindred that is called by this name. And they made signs to his father, how he would have him called. And he asked for a writing table, and wrote, saying, His name is John. And they marveled all”. (Luke 1:59-63) “His name is John”. The world had tried to give him a different name. I can hear his relatives saying “Name him after his father. You’ve got to name him after his relatives. You need to honor his ancestors. Why introduce a new name into the family line? Why go against our religious and social and cultural conventions? Why can’t you just go along with the family traditions and name him Zacharias after his father? That’s the way we do things around here. Don’t make waves. Follow our traditions. Stick with the way things are. They way things are is the way things are supposed to be. This is no time for innovation. Don’t upset the applecart”. But his parents were persistent. His mother said and his father wrote “His name is John”. They knew what God wanted. They knew that God was doing a new thing. They knew that God’s script for what was about to happen was different from the old and predictable script that the family was trying to maintain— and so they said “His name is John”. “Zacharias” means “God remembers”. That would have been a very fitting name for someone who would go before the Messiah to prepare his way. God remembers his people and his promises and is sending his Messiah in fulfillment of His promises. Humanly speaking, it would have been a perfectly good name— but it was not name his parents chose, because it’s not the name that God had chosen. His parents knew better. They knew that a person’s name can easily become his or her calling and destiny. They wanted God to name the child because they knew that God would appoint the child’s destiny. God had told them to call him John, which means “The Lord has been gracious”. The child was ordained to be what God had called him to be— and so they said “His name is John”. God didn’t need another Zacharias in the world. God needed a baby named John, who would grow into a young man who was called John the Baptizer, who would be a man with a mission that came directly from the hand and heart of God; and this mission would be fulfilled in God’s way, in God’s timing, according to God’s perfect plan. God wrote the script. “His name is John”. What name has God given to us? If we are followers of Jesus, then we find the answer in Acts 11:26: “And the disciples were called Christians first in Antioch”. The problem is that we’ve lost the wonder of what it means to be called “Christian”. Depending on our theological persuasion, we may think that being Christian means being a member of one of the world’s major religions, or that it means attending a particular kind of church, or that it means being born in a part of the world where most people call themselves Christians, or that it means being a person who can look back to a time and place where he or she first trusted in Jesus as Savior. All of these definitions fall short of what it really means to be a Christian. They rob us of the wonder of what it means to be identified as a follower of Jesus. I never want to lose the wonder of what it means to be called a Christian, so I think of Jesus, the carpenter’s son who became a traveling rabbi, who went about doing good toward everyone he met. I think of him walking through the streets of Galilee, touching the lives of many people with his love and compassion, healing them of their diseases, freeing them of demons, teaching them how to love God and how to love each other, reminding them of the great love that God has for them. I think of Jesus standing on a hilltop and teaching the people to love their enemies, to forgive those who wrong them, to pray for those who persecute them, to go the extra mile. I stand amazed at who he was and at what he taught and at how he lived. He was an absolutely amazing human being. He’s the kind of person I’d love to have as my mentor, as my neighbor, as my best friend. If I were living in Galilee when Jesus was around, I’d invite him to the Galilean equivalent of Starbucks in hopes of a long conversation over coffee, but I think he’d say “Instead, let’s go grab some food and share it with some homeless friends of mine, and we can talk on the way”. I’d hear about some horrific tragedy that was going on in a nearby town and would want to go and find Jesus so I could pick his brain about the theological and political implications of the event as it was unfolding, but I probably wouldn’t find him at home. He’d be on his way to that town to offer a helping hand, to help with the rescue effort, to offer a smile and a hug and a word of encouragement to those who were suffering from the tragedy, to remind them of the love of their Heavenly Father. I think he would surprise me again and again by his genuine love and compassion and his unselfish desire to help others, his authentic love for all people, and his eagerness to show them that God loves them, despite their ugly sins and sad failures and wretched histories and broken dreams. And then I zoom out to see the bigger picture. I remind myself that God came to earth as a man, and that man was Jesus. He not only taught us how to love, but he showed us how to love. He not only came to teach us about God, he came to show us what God is like. He moved into our little corner of the universe so he could be with us, because God desires relationship with his people. And then, after a lifetime of showing us how to live and love, and how to relate to God as our loving Father, he gathered his friends around a table, he distributed bread and wine, and he told them “Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends”. And then he did just that: He died for his friends. He died for his enemies. He died for us. He died for me. He died so that I could be forgiven, so that I could personally relate to God as my loving Father, so that I could have eternal life. The man Jesus, who spent his whole life teaching us how to love, died as the ultimate act of love. He gave up his life for his friends. Despite my sinfulness, which makes me an enemy of God together with all the rest of humanity, he counts me as his friend. And them I zoom further out to see an even bigger picture: Before time and space exist, God says “Watch this!” and creates for Himself a spectacular universe out of nothing. The world rebels against God. God promises a Seed. God starts to work through Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and their descendants to bring the world back to himself. God sends the prophets. God promises a Messiah. God sends his Son to earth, born of a virgin, to live a sinless live, to die on a cross as a substitutionary atonement for our sins, to resurrect from the dead, to ascend into heaven, to send us the Holy Spirit, to form a Church, which is his Body and Bride. The Church suffers and serves and sings and prays and worships and rejoices. Jesus one day comes back to earth in order to set up his kingdom— a kingdom defined not by the imposition of power over the powerless but by sacrificial love of God toward His people, ruled by the Lion who is the Lamb. I think of those who would come to know him personally, by grace alone through faith alone, experiencing the second birth, who will be forever praising him and worshipping him with grateful and joyful hearts. I then I zoom back into the smaller picture. Here I am sitting at my computer on this little speck called Planet Earth— and God calls me “Christian”. God calls me a follower of Jesus. Jesus calls me his friend, and I am invited to sit at the table and eat the bread and drink the wine with Jesus. I get to walk in the footsteps of the greatest human being who ever lived; the God who became a man, who loved me enough to die for me; the God who loved me enough to befriend me despite my sins and failures; the God who has called me not only to trust in Jesus as my Savior but to follow him as my Lord. I get to be a follower of Jesus, and there is no higher privilege than that! That’s my identity. God has given me a name. God has called me “Christian”. The world may try to give me a different name or a different identity, but I wouldn’t trade in the name “Christian” for anything. That’s why I can be hopeful in 2020 and in 2021. That’s why I can celebrate Christmas as more than just a holiday. Because a baby was born in Bethlehem, I know who God is. Because I know who God is, I know who I am and why I exist and what I will be doing forever— glorifying and enjoying the God who deserves my glory forever— and that’s worth celebrating!
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