Elizabeth's Story

This is a story about faith that I wrestled with and wrote in 2009.  This year, this season, it's been revisiting my heart, reminding me that dreams are worth the wait and hope is worth the heartache...


From Luke 1:5-23:

She blinked in the darkness, fuzzy images receding from her mind even as her heart grasped for them.


It was the second time the dream had visited her.  Her husband had been standing before her, his face alight with excitement and his hands waving wildly towards her.  He was cradling his arms much like he was holding an infant.  She was trying desperately to hear what he was saying, but the dream was strangely quiet.  Too quiet.  


Much like her home, she thought wryly, as she stared at the empty space beside her.  There were no sounds of children laughing, no babies whimpering, no hushed lullabies.  Her home was lonely.  She was lonely.  They were lonley.  Zechariah had been gone for eight days, serving with his division in the Temple of the Lord.  This was the usual custom of a priest and Zechariah had been a faithful one for nearly thirty years.  Thirty years of following the Lord's commands in steadfast obedience, of observing every regulation.  Thirty years of asking God for a child.

Elizabeth realized she no longer asked.  Something inside her had given up on the dream.  She had resigned herself to barrenness.  Years ago the whispers behind furtive glances had marred her soul and bruised her joy.  "God must be displeased with her", the whispers would taunt, "What secret sin has she committed", they would murmur.  She had tried to ignore the speculations and go about her roles as the wife of a priest and a descendant of Aaron with a pure heart and sincere devotion.  But there were many nights her tears would fall in the dark and she would beg God for revelation.  


Was He really displeased with her?  What could she do to earn His favor? 


Her faith was her only answer.  There on her knees she would recount the faithfulness of her Lord and find rest in the knowledge of His lovingkindness.

Time's passing had convinced her heart that her dream would never happen.  And now these unsettling visions were awakening things inside her she would rather let lie, scattering dust from old heartbreak, uncovering wounds she had learned to live with.  They were threatening her carefully constructed peace.

The night had been fitful and Elizabeth woke early to ready her home for her husband's return.  Though the meaning of her dreams still eluded her, she felt an air of expectancy, a quickening in her heart.   A noise outside drew her to the window and the sight she saw made her tremble.  A loud group of people were jostling toward her home, her husband in the middle.  His face exuded serenity and his step was light.  The crowd was calling to him, excitedly asking questions, begging for a response, but he was silent and his eyes anxiously sought hers.

It was then she knew.  God was up to something great.


In only a few short weeks her hopes were confirmed and her soul soared to new heights.

Elizabeth would give birth to her dream.  And she would name him John.

"The Lord has done this for me," she rejoiced.



(the full story of Elizabeth, Zechariah, and the foretold birth of John the Baptist is in Luke 1:5-23)

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Dreams.

I realize that sometimes I give up on them too easily.

God-given dreams require God-given miracles.

In His time.  In His way.

After years of faithfulness, Elizabeth finally raised a son who would prepare the way for our Savior.


Her dream was delayed only because of its greatness.