http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/14731479/how-will-diversity-not-destroy-oneness
John Piper is founder and teacher of desiringGod.org and chancellor of Bethlehem College & Seminary. For 33 years, he served as pastor of Bethlehem Baptist Church, Minneapolis, Minnesota. He is author of more than 50 books, including Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist and most recently Providence.
You Might also like
-
Train Them Up in Jesus: The One-Verse Vision for Dads
Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. (Ephesians 6:4)
Following the negative charge to fathers — “do not provoke your children to anger” — Paul captures a positive vision for Christian parenting with two key terms: “discipline and instruction” in the ESV. The Greek words beneath them have been the subject of much discussion and have led to a variety of translations. We might capture the meaning just as well, if not better, with training and counsel — which might help both our clarity of vision and practical application in parenting.
The first concept, “discipline” or “training” (paideia), is the broader and more comprehensive of the two. It likely speaks to the full educational process from infant to adult, and the years of intentionality, initiative, energy, and follow-through it takes to train a child for adulthood. That is, it is a long-term process, like training for the Olympics, but with far more at stake.
We might think of it as whole-life training — body and soul — not mere classroom instruction. “The term paideia,” comments S.M. Baugh, “has rich cultural associations in the Greek world for the training and education of youths in a wide range of subjects and disciplines” (Ephesians, 509–10). This kind of fatherly training, then, involves not only words, but example and imitation.
Training Toward Maturity
Such comprehensive life-training is what Moses received when he was “instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians,” making him, in time, “mighty in his words and deeds” (Acts 7:22). It’s what Paul received, for years, as he was brought up in Tarsus, “educated at the feet of Gamaliel” (Acts 22:3). Such whole-life training, as extended preparation for healthy adulthood, is our calling as Christian parents, training both the outer person and behaviors as well as pressing through to the heart to form and re-form the inner persons of our children.
“Maturity, after all, in any sphere of human life, typically does not come automatically, but through training.”
As Jesus spoke about his disciples being trained during their time with him (Matthew 13:52; Luke 6:40), so we disciple our children toward Christian maturity. Maturity, after all, in any sphere of human life, typically does not come automatically, but through training (Hebrews 5:14). Discipling does something; it changes the disciple — and greatly so over time. And such training is often not easy but requires persisting in moments of discomfort, even pain, to endure on the path toward the reward set before us (Hebrews 12:11).
Work ethic, for instance, is not automatic; we must teach our children to work. Nor does holiness come naturally, but God’s grace in Christ trains us, and our children through us, “to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives” (Titus 2:12).
Well-Equipped to Train Well
We might be so quick to disclaim the proverbial nature of that famous childrearing verse that we neglect to pause and really ponder what training involves. “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6). There may be far more to training — both with the body, and with the more pliable soul — than modern parents tend to recognize.
And our God has made sure that we as parents are amply supplied and fully resourced for these extensive years of training our children: he gave us his Book. At the heart and center of parental training is not our own life experience and acquired wisdom (valuable as that is), but the Scriptures, “breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16–17).
This training doubtless includes what we might more narrowly call discipline (Hebrews 12:3–11), even as we note well the difference between discipline toward a goal and punishment as an end (1 Corinthians 11:32; 2 Corinthians 6:9; 1 Timothy 1:20; 2 Timothy 2:25; Revelation 3:19). Yet the whole process of parental training is comprehensive and constructive, not only responsive; and holistic, not only intellectual.
Specific Verbal Training
The second concept, then, translated “instruction” — or perhaps “counsel” (nouthesia) — is more specific, and included under the broader category of training.
With this second term, the accent is verbal, and less hands-on — specifically about the role of our words as parents. Now we move beyond visionary teaching and demonstration to corrective speech, but still as a means to the child’s long-term good, not as an end. This is how we often use the word counsel today, though not without the sense of “admonishing” or “warning.” And parental counsel typically endures beyond the years of immediate training. Parenting doesn’t end when our children move out of the house. Parental training, at that point, may be essentially complete, but parental counsel, we hope, will long endure.
Such counsel in the New Testament covers a range of circumstances, whether the more positive counsel that Old Testament examples provide for Christians today (“they were written down for our instruction, 1 Corinthians 10:11), or the more negative warnings we extend to “a person who stirs up division” (Titus 3:10). On the whole, we do well to remember the kind of father’s heart — slow to chide and swift to bless — from which such warnings and admonitions issue.
Consider, then, at least five realities that will accompany godly counsel.
Friends of Fatherly Counsel
The first friends of fatherly counsel are our tears. On the beach at Miletus, when Paul bids farewell to the Ephesian elders, he reminds them that “for three years I did not cease night or day to admonish every one with tears” (Acts 20:31). His apostolic counsel came with tears, not vindictiveness. He did not speak critically, from an angry or distant heart, but in love he spoke his words of correction for their good.
Second, and related, is a good heart. He says to the Romans that he’s confident that they are “able to instruct one another,” because “you, my brothers, . . . are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge” (Romans 15:14). Fullness of both knowledge and goodness coexists in a heart that offers such counsel. It is from such a good heart that our children need our counsel and warnings.
Third, fatherly love. When Paul spoke hard words, as he did to the Corinthians, he did so not “to make you ashamed, but to admonish you as my beloved children.” The reason he gives is his fatherly heart for them: “For though you have countless guides in Christ, you do not have many fathers” (1 Corinthians 4:14–15). General counsel and admonitions may have their place; but our children have special need of corrective words that flow from a father’s peculiar love.
Fourth, teaching and wisdom. Twice Colossians speaks of “warning everyone” and “admonishing one another” (that is, Christian counsel) that is both paired with teaching and accompanied with “all wisdom”:
Him we proclaim, warning everyone and teaching everyone with all wisdom, that we may present everyone mature in Christ. . . . Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. (Colossians 1:28; 3:16)
As parents, we might also observe here the goal of our parenting (Christian maturity), the essential means of our calling (the word of Christ), and the correlation with singing (joy made audible) and thankfulness. Singing, thankful fathers make for good counselors, who both correct and give hope.
Finally, brotherly warning. In 2 Thessalonians 3:15, Paul contrasts the disregard one might have for an enemy with the kind of warning counsel of a brother. And in 1 Thessalonians 5:12–14, this warning counsel is again the kind of speech characteristic of a congregation’s loving fathers — that is, its pastor-elders (verse 12) — and is deserving of the church’s esteem (verse 13). Such warning keeps company with encouraging, helping, and patience (verse 14).
Making Fathering Christian
In Paul’s one-verse vision of parenting, he finishes with one final phrase that is no throwaway. In our efforts at fatherly training and counsel, we dare not ignore it. In fact, this last note is the most important one of all. All our years of training, and all our hard and precious words of counsel, will be for naught in view of eternity without the finishing touch: “of the Lord.”
“Christian parenting aims, in everything, to teach our children Christ.”
Christian parenting aims far higher than competent, seemingly healthy adults. Christian parenting aims, in everything, to teach our children Christ. We want them to “learn Christ.” Which fits with the way Paul warns the church in Ephesians 4:20–21: “That is not the way you learned Christ! — assuming that you have heard about him and were taught in him, as the truth is in Jesus.”
In Christ, we want all our parenting covered by the banner of teaching them Christ. As Charles Hodge comments on Ephesians 6:4, “This whole process of education is to be religious, and not only religious but Christian” (Ephesians, 204). Our parental training is training in Christ. And our parental counsel, however encouraging or corrective, is counsel in Christ. In him, and through him, and for him is all Christian parenting.
As we nourish our children in the training and counsel of our Lord, we make knowing and enjoying him the final focus of our efforts. As we do, we get to be instruments in his hands, and mouthpieces of his words, in his cause for the deep and eternally enduring joy of our children.
-
Losing Christ in Christianity
The question sounds strange at first, but I’ve come to ask it of myself: Am I in danger of losing Christ in my Christianity?
Among those of us who truly know Jesus, love him, believe upon him for eternal life — have we lost our first love? Does the greater light now shine as the lesser in our hearts? Has he traveled unnoticed from his place as the great Object of our souls to an adjective modifying other pursuits? Books on Christian living sell today — books on Christ himself usually remain in stock.
Can we still say in truth, “My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning” (Psalm 130:6)? Is the one thing we ask of our Lord to gaze upon his beauty and converse with him (Psalm 27:4)? If he returned today, would it feel like an interruption, or would he only interrupt us asking each other, “Have you seen him whom my soul loves” (Song 3:3)? Do we feel the pain of his absence? Do we miss him?
Of late, I have peered less over the walls of this world, waiting for his coming. Instead, I have busied myself with good and even godly pursuits — those that are from him, to him, and through him, but are not him. To my surprise, I realized I began to lose Christ, of all places, in my Christianity. And losing sight of him here seems subtler, easier.
I shall attempt to describe how we can lose sight of him in a few places most precious to us: the gospel, the Scriptures, the pursuit of holiness, and the church.
Have we lost him in the gospel?
I’ve misplaced Jesus in the gospel when the gospel becomes faceless, when it becomes part of an equation where gospel plus faith equals heaven. Michael Reeves gets at this when he writes that Charles Spurgeon
preferred to speak of preaching “Christ” than preaching “the gospel,” “the truth,” or anything else, because of how easily we reduce “the gospel” or “the truth” to an impersonal system. Christ himself is, in person, the way, the truth, and the life; the glory of God; the life and delight of the saints; the Bridegroom that the bride is invited to enjoy. (Spurgeon on the Christian Life, 71)
If I do not keep guard, the gospel and the truth can be reduced to a bloodless, pulseless science. Against this personless scheme, Paul describes God’s gospel as that
which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy Scriptures, concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord. (Romans 1:1–4)
“If I do not keep guard, ‘the gospel’ and ‘the truth’ can reduce to a bloodless, pulseless science.”
Paul did not dedicate his life to a static formula, but God set him apart for the gospel, the gospel “concerning his Son.” This gospel, God’s power for salvation, is the good news of a person — Jesus Christ, the long-prophesied Son of David, crucified for sin, resurrected in power, and ascended to the right hand of the Father, soon to return.
Have we lost him in the Scriptures?
“You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life,” Jesus told the Pharisees, “and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life” (John 5:39–40). Have we learned bad habits of Bible reading that imitate these blind Pharisees?
Ask yourself, What have I seen in the Bible lately? You may answer that you’ve learned about contentment, how to suffer, or how to better love your wife. You may have explored the disciples’ boldness in the book of Acts or gleaned from the minister’s heart in the Pastoral Epistles. You may have bent low in humility while traveling through Philippians or been taught to pray in the Psalms or contemplated your assurance in 1 John. All good lessons.
Next, ask yourself, What have I seen of Christ lately? What about him has emblazoned your heart and satisfied your soul? Which of his words has captivated your attention? Which of his excellencies has harpooned your affections? What about his cross has humbled you, what of his resurrection has sustained you, what of his return fixes your eyes upon the skies, waiting?
I suspect with most of us, the first question will be much easier to answer than the second. We have thought about much — but how much about Christ himself? We speak much of faith — but how much about whom our faith is in? The Pharisees searched out many holy topics but missed seeing the Messiah right in front of them.
Have we lost him pursuing holiness?
When we lose sight of Jesus in our sanctification, Christlikeness comes to mean perfect virtue, and sin a nonpersonal infraction.
Instead of seeing our own love as imitating Christ’s love (John 15:12), we seek to possess a generic love to the full extent, a general patience overflowing, a basic joy and gentleness and self-control to the superlative. Holiness soon becomes ethical math, where we take a positive attribute and calculate how much more of it we need.
And when we think of sin, we come to mean merely breaking a soulless law. Sin happens when the sign said the speed limit was 70 miles per hour, and the speed camera clocked us going 80. We broke the law. The cold eye of justice catches us — a ticket is sent in the mail.
Instead, our holiness looks at Jesus, looks like Jesus. Beholding his glory, we are changed into the same image (2 Corinthians 3:18). The Father predestined us to be conformed to his Son’s likeness (Romans 8:29). We do not attain shining virtues for their own sake; we “put on the Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 13:14). And we obey not an abstract law, but his law: we bear one another’s burdens “and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2). Instead of confessing sin as those who broke the speed limit, we confess sin against our triune God.
Have we lost him in the church?
Our increasingly post-Christian society prefers the Golden Rule to the Golden Ruler. Humanitarianism pats the conscience on the back — love of neighbor remains, though many pretend God is dead.
Yet we can be guilty of a more holy version. We are to be known by our love for each other, it is true, but not merely by our love for each other. We cannot major on horizontal love for other Christians and forget vertical love for Christ, thus taking seriously the second great command to love one another as ourselves while ignoring the first to love God with everything.
The temptation is like the short-term-mission-trip temptation — dig the well; forget the living water. We can cook for the small group, lead the prayer meeting, visit the recluse members, set up the chairs for service, practice for worship, set up a meal train, send a card, attend the funeral — and lose focus on Jesus. Christian community, for it to remain such, must be community founded upon the work of Christ, full of the Spirit of Christ, and existing for the glory of Christ.
Our life in the body is life in his body. Jesus “is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent” (Colossians 1:18). We are not the best version of the world’s social clubs, the best humanistic society with sprinkled platitudes about Jesus. We remain his possession, his sheep, his bride. As the King leaves, so goes our lampstands.
Searching the Unsearchable
“The study of Jesus Christ is the most noble subject that ever a soul spent itself upon,” writes John Flavel. “Those that rack and torture their brains upon other studies like children, weary themselves at a low game; the eagle plays at the sun itself. The angels study this doctrine, and stoop down to look into this deep abyss.” The angels never tire from gazing upon the King in his beauty. Have we?
“The angels never tire from gazing upon the King in his beauty. Have we?”
Christian, “though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls” (1 Peter 1:8–9). To know him is heaven on earth and the very heaven of heavens. The saints’ eternal happiness is to see God in the face of Christ and become like what we see. Heaven orbits him. Will we settle now for a Christianity malnourished of Christ?
Let’s spend our lives beholding his manifold glories. Let’s plunder the riches of Christ until we too verify that they are “unsearchable” (Ephesians 3:8). Let’s make his love — which surpasses knowledge — our all-engrossing subject. Let’s request of our ministers, as the Greeks did Philip, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus” (John 12:21).
We all have more of him to see. Flavel again:
It is the studying of Christ, as in the planting of a new discovered country; at first men sit down by the seaside, upon the skirts and borders of the land; and there they dwell, but by degrees they search farther and farther into the heart of the country. Ah, the best of us are yet but upon the borders of this vast continent!
Travel onward, dear Christian, in the knowledge of him — do not settle for his ethic, his marriage counseling, his worldview without him. You will explore this vast continent for coming ages, for all eternity, and ever have more left to discover.
-
Jesus Came to Save: Ten Great Realities of Christmas
Remember that, in Luke 1:6–7, Luke tells us that Zechariah and Elizabeth “were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord. But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.”
They were too old to have a baby. They had dealt with infertility all their lives. And they were blameless before God: he held nothing against them. They were blameless. They were barren. And they were old. And in God’s way of reckoning, they were the perfect couple to give birth to John the Baptist. Because John the Baptist will be great. Very great. But not as great as Jesus. And that’s the point.
Great and Infinitely Greater
Luke 1:15 says, “He will be great before the Lord.” But Jesus will be the Lord. “Unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11). John would be a great man. Jesus said in Matthew 11:11, “Among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist. Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” If you are a Christian, you are greater than John the Baptist.
He was part of the old order — the waiting, longing, hoping old order — wondering, When will Messiah come? John walked right up to the edge of the new order, the kingdom that Jesus was bringing, and he saw it and prepared the way for it. He pointed to it. But you are in it. He saw a whole new way of salvation opening before him in Jesus. And you are in that salvation. It is a greater thing to be a nobody in union with Jesus than to be the greatest prophet that ever lived.
So John is born from a barren womb of an old woman, through the seed of an old man. And Jesus is born from the virgin womb of a young woman, through the seed of God. What we see unfolding before us in the first chapter of Luke is the greatness of John the Baptist, in order to make plain the super-greatness of Jesus, who so far exceeds John as to make him nothing by comparison. He is not worthy to tie Jesus’s shoes, he said (Matthew 3:11). “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). That’s what we are supposed to see: John, born of barrenness and age, is very great. Jesus, born of a young virgin, is infinitely greater.
Name of Grace
The angel Gabriel comes to Zechariah in Luke 1:13 and tells him that he and Elizabeth are going to have a son. And he says to Zechariah, “You shall call his name John.” The name is Iōannēs in Greek, which is a transliteration of the Hebrew Yochanan, which means “Yahweh is gracious.” Indeed he is. As we are about to see, even toward Zechariah.
Zechariah responds to Gabriel in Luke 1:18 — a response he will very much regret — “How shall I know this?” Not like Mary’s question, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?” (Luke 1:34). She wants help to understand. Zechariah wants more evidence that what Gabriel said is true. Gabriel responds, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I was sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. And behold, you will be silent and unable to speak until the day that these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time” (Luke 1:19–20).
And that time comes in our text: Luke 1:57–80. “Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son” (verse 57). The relatives and neighbors gather round at his circumcision and are about to call him little Zechariah, after his father. But Elizabeth says, “No; he shall be called John” (verse 60). So they turn to Zechariah, who is not only dumb but deaf, as they make signs to him (verse 62), and he writes on a tablet, “His name is John” (verse 63). In other words, this baby’s identity and destiny will not be defined by human parentage, but by divine purpose — a gracious purpose. The angel said, “Call him John.” God is gracious.
And the moment that Zechariah obeyed the divine purpose for his son, “immediately,” it says in verse 64, “his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke.” Verse 67 calls this speaking a prophecy and says it is owing to his being filled with the Holy Spirit: “And his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied.” And now we get to listen to the overflow of the Holy Spirit in verses 67–79.
Powerful to Save
There are two parts to Zechariah’s prophecy: verses 68–75 and verses 76–79. In verses 68–75, he describes the redemption accomplished by this “horn of salvation” in the house of David.
Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his peopleand has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David. (verses 68–69)
Luke wants us to know that this “horn of salvation” in the house of David is Jesus, because back in verses 32–33 the angel said to Mary about her son, “The Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”
So, this “horn of salvation” in the house of David is Jesus. The word “horn” is not the kind of horn you blow, like a trumpet. It’s the kind of horn that makes a wild ox so dangerous. It is a symbol of power. And especially God’s power. Listen to Psalm 18:2:
The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
So, according to verses 68–69, God is about to work a great redemption for his people through a horn of salvation — a powerful, triumphant salvation, namely, Jesus Christ. Then, from verses 70–75 that redemption is described.
Then the second part of the prophecy starts in verses 76–77. Zechariah says, “And you, child, [now he’s referring not to Jesus but to his son, John the Baptist] will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people.” And the rest of verses 77–79 describe that salvation.
“John, born of barrenness and age, is very great. Jesus, born of a young virgin, is infinitely greater.”
So, what we have in the two halves of Zechariah’s prophecy are two descriptions of salvation, first described as what Jesus, the horn of salvation, will accomplish, and second as what John the Baptist is preparing for. It’s the same salvation, the same redemption, in both cases — what John prepares for and what Jesus accomplishes. And in this way, Luke shows us again the greatness of John, “prophet of the Most High” (verse 76), but the far superior greatness of Jesus, the very power of the Most High, the horn of salvation (verse 69). The one pointing to salvation. The other accomplishing salvation.
Ten Great Realities of Salvation
I think what is helpful to do for our own encouragement and faith and holiness, is to gather up the realities of salvation in the first half and the realities of salvation in the second half, and put them all together to get a composite picture of what Christ came to do, what Christmas points to.
When Zechariah says in verse 68, “The Lord God of Israel . . . has visited and redeemed his people,” it is true that he is referring to the salvation of the Jewish people. That’s what he has in mind. And I think we could show that these realities of salvation are yet to be fulfilled for the Jewish people in our own day. But that they will be fulfilled when the hardness is removed from their hearts, and the veil is lifted, and they turn to their Messiah Jesus (as many of them have) and are grafted into the body of Christ.
And in the meantime, we know that God, in his mercy toward the Gentiles — that’s most of us — has granted us to be full fellow heirs of the promises made to Israel. If you are in Christ, the Messiah, by faith, you are an heir of the covenant made with Abraham, because “all the promises of God” are yes in Jesus (2 Corinthians 1:20). So, this prophecy of Zechariah is yours in Christ.
Salvation Purchased
So, what are the particular realities of this promised salvation in the first half of his prophecy (verses 68–75)? You can count them different ways, but I’ll point to six.
First, “[God] has raised up a horn of salvation for us” (verse 69a). That’s the first reality, the horn of salvation, Christ.
Second, “as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, that we should be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us” (verses 70–71). So, the second reality is rescue from our enemies.
Third, “to show the mercy promised to our fathers” (verse 72a). The third reality of this salvation is God’s mercy.
Fourth, “to remember his holy covenant, the oath that he swore to our father Abraham” (verses 72b–73). The fourth reality is God’s keeping his covenant, standing by the word of his oath.
Fifth, “that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies, might serve him without fear” (verse 74). The fifth reality is fearless service of God: anxiety-free, glad-hearted participation in God’s service.
Sixth, “in holiness and righteousness before him all our days” (verse 75). The final stage of this salvation is our own holiness and righteousness in his presence forever.
That’s the picture of salvation, or redemption, from the standpoint of what Christ, the horn of salvation, will accomplish for his people. For us.
Salvation Prepared
Now let’s turn to the second half of Zechariah’s prophecy (verses 76–79) and gather up the realities of this salvation from the standpoint of John’s preparing people for it. I see five. I think only one of them overlaps with the six we saw in the first half. See if you spot it.
First, “You, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins” (verses 76–77). So, the first reality of salvation in this half of the prophecy is the forgiveness of sins.
Second, “because of the tender mercy of our God” (verse 78a). The second reality is God’s mercy. That’s the one that overlaps with salvation in the first half (see verse 72).
Third and fourth, “whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” (verses 78b–79a). There are two effects of this sunrise: light replaces darkness, and life replaces death. Those in darkness no longer sit in darkness. Those overshadowed by death will no longer be overshadowed by death. The third reality is deliverance from darkness. The fourth reality is deliverance from death.
Finally, “to guide our feet into the way of peace” (verse 79b). Peace: all conflict removed, and the full flourishing of life experienced.
Good News of Great Joy
So, in the first half of Zechariah’s prophecy, there are six aspects of this salvation that the horn of salvation accomplishes. And in the second half, there are five aspects of this same salvation that John the Baptist is preparing for. One of them is the same, the mercy of God, which leaves ten aspects of this great work of salvation that is coming to us because of Christmas — because God has visited and redeemed his people. Let’s put them together into one amazing picture of our salvation.
Here’s my attempt to see them all in their proper connection.
Everything is rooted, first and most deeply, in the mercy of God. Zechariah speaks of “the tender mercy of our God” (verse 78) — his “bowels of mercy,” meaning his deeply felt mercy. Not mechanical. Not merely judicial. But emotional. Salvation of sinners begins in the bowels of God. The emotions of God. The heart of God. God did not become this way. He is this way. It all starts here.
His mercy inclines him to keep his covenant and his oath (verses 72–73). It is true that his righteousness inclines him to keep his covenant promises. But that first covenant was all mercy. Abraham did not deserve it. And we don’t deserve to be beneficiaries of it. When God remembers his covenant, it is the fruit of mercy.
To fulfill his covenant, he raises a horn of salvation (verse 69). He sends his Son, Jesus Christ. This Jesus pays for the forgiveness of sins by shedding his own blood (Luke 24:46–47). And that forgiveness of sins (verse 77) becomes the basis for the other blessings in this salvation, because we do not deserve any of them.
This forgiveness unleashes the power of God’s Spirit to take away our blindness and bring us from darkness to light and from death to life (verse 79). Indeed, in the end, all our enemies, and all those who hate us, will come to ruin, and we will be rescued (verse 71).
Rescued from every enemy for what? Peace. “To guide our feet into the way of peace” (verse 79). “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” (Luke 2:14). And fearless service in righteousness and holiness forever (verses 74–75). No worry. No anxiety. No failures. No sin. No regret, ever again. Just doing the beautiful will of God with gladness forever.
Salvation on the Tongue
When the angel Gabriel came to Zechariah and gave the good news that he would have a son and should name him John, Ioannes — God is gracious — the next thing that righteous Zechariah did was sin against God. He doubted God’s word. Gabriel called it unbelief (Luke 1:20). And with holy indignation, Gabriel struck Zechariah dumb and deaf for nine months.
He was nine months cut off from hearing or speaking to another human, to deal in the silence of his heart with God. And at the end of those nine months, when he had come to his senses, and the tablet was handed to him, he repented: “His name is John” (verse 63). And the text says, “Immediately his mouth was opened” (verse 64) — and not just opened, but filled with the Holy Spirit (verse 67) to tell us two thousand years later about this great salvation:
God’s deep, deep mercy
A covenant of promise
A mighty horn of salvation
The forgiveness of sins
Rescue from mortal enemies
Peaceful, fearless service toward a gracious God in holiness and righteousness foreverThere’s not a person in this room who has not sinned the way Zechariah did. And because of Jesus and the forgiveness of sins, you can return from that path of regret, and start over with your mouth full of salvation, like Zechariah.