A Reflection on The Gospel for June 24th, 2018: The Solemnity of The Nativity of Saint John The Baptist

Luke 1:57-66, 80
​
57 Now the time came for Elizabeth to be delivered, and she gave birth to a son. 58 And her neighbors and kinsfolk heard that the Lord had shown great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her. 59 And on the eighth day they came to circumcise the child; and they would have named him Zechari'ah after his father, 60 but his mother said, "Not so; he shall be called John." 61 And they said to her, "None of your kindred is called by this name." 62 And they made signs to his father, inquiring what he would have him called. 63 And he asked for a writing tablet, and wrote, "His name is John." And they all marveled. 64 And immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke, blessing God. 65 And fear came on all their neighbors. And all these things were talked about through all the hill country of Judea; 66 and all who heard them laid them up in their hearts, saying, "What then will this child be?" For the hand of the Lord was with him. 80 And the child grew and became strong in spirit, and he was in the wilderness till the day of his manifestation to Israel.

“John is his name.” Given to his parents as a great miracle, having conceived him when they were getting on in years, John was the work of God’s grace at the outset. And grace flowed through Elizabeth as John grew within her, then leapt at the presence of Christ in Mary’s womb. Like a river to the sea, grace rushed forward—spilling over the obstacles in its path–determined to reach its destination.

Have you ever stood in a river during the spring thaw? I have. And I can feel the unsettling sensation even now. Smooth, slick rocks beneath my feet—the bitterly cold, waist-deep water rushing all around me. It takes all of my strength just to stand upright in the surging current. I’m praying for a branch, or a large boulder to cling to, but there’s nothing. I begin to consider my options: I can try to push my body upstream through the narrower neck of the river, though I fear I will lose my footing and don’t trust I have the strength to oppose the force of the water. Or, I can let my feet be swept out from beneath me and hope for the best. I’m not particularly smitten with either alternative. As I turn to look downstream though, there’s a natural bend in the river’s direction, which means there is a third option. I can move with the current, rather than against it, and it will guide me toward the riverbank—to safe, dry ground. I can cooperate with the force the river provides to move a greater distance with minimal effort.

​In my limited human capacity, I—more often than I care to admit—will respond in the way Elizabeth’s neighbours did when she and Zechariah chose to cooperate with grace and oppose societal norm. I question. But God’s grace knows no bounds; it transcends age, preconceptions, fear, doubt, opposition. Grace moves where God sends it, and the only necessary response from us in order that we may receive it, is ‘yes’. Zechariah responds, ‘yes, Lord, the child will be called John’—unified with his wife and God Himself—and God’s grace spills into him as he receives back his voice. John, whose name means “Yahweh is gracious”, honours his origin and stays the course as a conduit of God’s great grace until he is unified with his Creator for all of eternity.

Let us pray: Heavenly Father and Friend, I repent of all the times I have acted as a dam in the river of grace. By your infinite love, Lord, have mercy on me, and help me to surrender in obedience to Your will, so that I may move with the grace of a gentle stream to the destination you set before me. Amen.

Lori MacDonald

"River of Grace" by  Christy Nockels