THE STORY OF ELIZABETH – Luke 1:5–7, 13–14 – In the days of Herod, king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, of the division of Abijah. And he had a wife from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. And they 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. …
But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John. And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth.”
The Bible uses a stark word for women who were unable to have children: barren. To be “barren” meant more than an inability to bear children. Barrenness carried shame along with it, as if a woman was not living up to her purpose in life.
A lot has changed in two thousand years, but a lot hasn’t. Sure, we generally avoid the word “barren” today, but the shame remains. Not only for women without children, either. For men and women who remain unmarried into their 30s, 40s, and 50s. For people who struggle, day after painful day, with chronic illness. For everyone who senses that, somehow, they aren’t living up to their purpose.
Many of us can relate to Elizabeth. We feel like something should be different, either in our world or in our own hearts. So we stand before God with feelings of bitterness (God, what have you done?), guilt (God, what have I done?), or both.
I find it encouraging that God chose someone like Elizabeth to begin telling the story of Christmas. The good news of God’s presence, the story of Jesus’ birth, begins in a most unexpected place—in the womb of a barren woman. The very place of Elizabeth’s deepest pain becomes the place God chooses to work. Not in spite of her barrenness, but because of it.
For centuries, God’s people had been waiting for God to come near to them in a special way. To take away their sorrow and replace it with joy. To take away their sin and replace it with forgiveness. To take away the barrenness of death and replace it with abundant life.
And so, God begins with Elizabeth. The life within her acts as a promise of everything God was about to do.
She would receive, in part, what God intended to bring to all of humanity—wholeness, healing, joy.
Elizabeth would not be the one to bring God into the world. But her miracle baby would prepare the way for him. Her son would grow up to be, in Jesus’ words, “the greatest prophet ever born of women” (Luke 7:28). His prophecy, in fact, began before he ever spoke a word. It began before he was even born, because Elizabeth’s pregnancy spoke a prophetic word to all who saw it. Her pregnancy declared, “God is coming to earth to stay.”
Elizabeth rejoiced because God gave her a son. But the enduring joy God brought her—and those around her— was deeper than that of having a longing fulfilled. After all, both Elizabeth and her son would one day become “barren” again in death. What they needed was the assurance of God’s presence with them, in difficulty, in joy, even in death.
That is precisely what Jesus came to be. Born under miraculous circumstances, like Elizabeth’s child, Jesus would not only prophesy about God’s presence, he would embody it. And even though he would never bear a child, he would go on to live the most fruitful and healing life the world has ever known.
Reflect:
How do you feel barren? Where do you fail to meet the expectations others have of you?
Write out a short prayer, giving those expectations to God.
“God, I often feel …”
