Zechariah the priest stands alone in the hazy interior of the Holy Place, where he’s about to burn incense to God. He and his wife Elizabeth are childless and old. Nevertheless, the prayer for a child has run through their minds for decades.

Suddenly, an angel appears. Zechariah goes rigid with fear. But the angel Gabriel assures him, “Do not be afraid; your prayer has been heard. Your wife, Elizabeth, will bear you a son. You are to give him the name John… He will bring people back to God and get them ready for the Lord.”

In other words, Zechariah’s child would be the messenger God had promised, 400 years earlier, to send. The messenger that would prepare the way for the Savior.

There, in those holy surroundings, in the startling company of God’s angel, Zechariah has a very human reaction: “How can I be sure of this? I am old and my wife is well along in years.”

Does it surprise you, the doubt that tumbles from the mouth of a lifelong priest? Does it surprise you to think that a priest’s prayers might have become more habit than hope? Does it surprise you… or can you relate?

Sometimes the loudest opposition to God’s promises comes from inside our own heads.

“Will God really provide all that I need, or should I just fudge a little on my timecard and taxes?”

“Does God really forgive this sin that keeps me awake at night?”

“Can God ever turn this horrible, heart-wrenching loss into something good?”

But when Zechariah’s doubts go head-to-head with God’s promises, his doubts are literally silenced. God takes away Zechariah’s voice. And as his elderly wife swells with a miracle child, Zechariah’s inner doubts are silenced too.

When Elizabeth gives birth to a son, her friends and family share her joy. They arrive for the baby’s circumcision and naming. They decide, by committee, to name him after his father Zechariah. But Elizabeth speaks up and says, “No! He is to be called John.”

Elizabeth, who hasn’t had the luxury of discussing with her silent husband all the angel had said about their child, is nevertheless convinced that all of it is true. Every prenatal kick, every twinge, every moment of queasiness during her months of isolation affirmed the miracle. And she is willing to contradict a room full of relatives and friends if it means obeying God.

Her name choice is met with shocked confusion. John? Why?? John isn’t a family name! The group now turns to Zechariah, seeking his mute opinion. To everyone’s astonishment, he writes, “His name is John.”

And immediately, God returns Zechariah’s voice. He begins to speak, no longer in doubt but with praise.

God’s discipline of Zechariah might seem extreme. But I would bet that Zechariah’s spiritual parenting of John was the better for his months of silent contemplation. This Advent, let’s find time to quietly ponder God’s promises, repent of our doubts, and pray for courage to witness to those around us.