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I’m writing this article shortly after Christmas, when images of the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future are still dancing around Victorian England in the nightly showings of "A Christmas Carol." I’ve noticed another ghost lately, not one that comes to our house and goes bump in the night, but that haunts every believer: the ghost of Zacharias.
Zacharias, for those not in the know, was Jesus’ uncle. Luke 2 records him making his incense sacrifice in the temple when an angel tells him that he will have a son. His reply is telling: "But how can this be? For I am old and my wife is barren." If we translate the thought behind his words, we get something like: "I want to believe, but I don’t want to be disappointed."

I remember when I was eleven or twelve and had a favorite watch which had picked up a scratch on its face. I’d been saved for several years and knew that God answered prayers, so I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that God would fix my prized toy. When I took a look at the watch face, the scratch was gone – but then I looked at it in better light and saw that the scratch was still there. I was confused and hurt, and it was a long time before I asked God for anything again.
This sort of thing has happened to everyone, and lots of people have never gotten over it. Disappointment has a power over us that most of us would never admit. All it takes is a little discouragement and virtually every person, lost and saved alike, will go running for the door, tails tucked firmly between legs.

I really wish I could go back and slap my twelve-year-old self upside the head, because it took me far too long to shake off my ghost of Zacharias. I went joyless years doubting God’s power before I finally realized my error and began making requests of God again. What happened when I did? Some of them came to pass – and some of them didn’t. But learning how to deal with that disappointment, rather than merely avoiding it, is what sparked the spiritual growth in my life, as well as Zacharias’.

Look at the assumption behind Zacharias’ words. He assumes, as too many people do, that it’s somehow better to avoid getting his hopes up than it would be to dare it and later be crushed. He assumes that avoiding pain equates to achieving happiness. This is a very rational assumption, which is why it completely ruins faith. Faith, Paul says, is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. It doesn’t operate by human reason; it operates by God’s love and grace. When we talk ourselves out of believing in the might and power of God’s hand, we’re not saving ourselves from disappointment, we’re missing out on all the amazing things that God would be doing if only we would open our mouths and ask for them.

And Zacharias? He’d have missed being father to John the Baptist, and uncle to Jesus. He learned, better than most of us ever will, that the fear of being let down is not an excuse to live with your head in the sand. God never promises that we won’t be disappointed, only that He will always be there for us when we are, and will never fail us or forsake us. Disappointment in life is inevitable, which is why it makes no sense to try and avoid it. There will always be pain and disappointment; that’s just the nature of our fallen world. Yet more than those things, there will always be God, and it is He – not our fears, not our desires – that should be guiding us.

Copyright 2007 Jim Barringer