Answering Our Doubt (Luke 1:5-25)

Big Idea: God's timing and methods often confuse us, but through the gospel, he enters our suffering, redeems our pain, and promises ultimate joy.

This morning, I want to take you on a journey in your imagination to a remote Indian village in Peru. Picture yourself landing in a floatplane, gliding to the riverbank. Our guide takes us along the village's main path, a dirt trail with stilted huts that have palm-thatch roofs swaying in the breeze.

We stop at a small granite marker near the path, a silent witness to a story both heartbreaking and profound. It marks the grave of a young missionary’s six-month-old son, who died suddenly from vomiting and diarrhea. It was a loss that broke the missionary in ways no one could mend. In his grief, he carved the marker by hand, buried his child, and planted a tree beside the grave.

Every day, during the hottest part of the day, the missionary would walk to the river, fill a jug with water, and bring it back to nourish the tree. He would stand by the grave, his shadow falling across it as if shielding it from the relentless sun. Sometimes he wept. He prayed occasionally. Other times, he simply stood there, lost in sorrow. His wife, the Indian church members, and fellow missionaries tried to comfort him, but nothing could ease his pain.

Eventually, the missionary himself fell ill. His mind wandered, and his body weakened with constant diarrhea. He was flown to Lima, where doctors searched for tropical diseases but found nothing. No treatments were effective. Finally, they diagnosed him with "hysterical diarrhea" and sent him and his wife back to the United States.

Today, that crumbling granite marker serves a different purpose. Indian women rest their watering pots on it as they pass by. And as the sun beats down on us, we’re left with haunting questions: Why did this baby die? The missionary brought his family to serve God in the jungle. Was this his reward? He prayed for a sign of God’s presence, for even a whisper of comfort. Why did he feel none?

These questions are relevant everywhere, not just in a distant village. They echo in our own lives. Why does a mother of young children face death by cancer just before Christmas? Why does a woman who longs for children remain barren? Why is a youth pastor tragically killed in a car accident while faithfully serving God? Why is a young Christian diagnosed with a chronic illness?

This morning, we bring these questions with us, questions that weigh on both our minds and hearts. They’re not new, but they are deeply personal. And as we wrestle with them, we long to hear from the God who sees, who hears, and who promises to be with us, even in the silence.

That morning, I want to introduce an older couple named Zechariah and Elizabeth. The record showed that this couple lived honorably before God, followed His commands, and maintained a clear conscience. Zechariah served as a priest.

There was one significant problem they had faced. Like approximately a quarter of couples today, they could not have a baby. They were childless. This was especially painful for Elizabeth, who felt that her childlessness was a disgrace. Not having children deprived them of the personal joy that comes with raising a family. In their culture, it was stigmatized and viewed as a sign of divine disfavor, resulting in social shame.

The prevailing thought was this: if children are a blessing from the Lord, then not having children must mean God had withheld His blessing. There was no one to carry on their family name. This was the reality and frustration of being childless. Scripture tells us they were both childless and advanced in years.

In his goodness, God chose a pivotal moment in Zechariah’s career to intervene. As a priest, Zechariah served at the temple for two one-week periods each year. He was one of 18,000 priests, each of whom officiated a sacrifice only once in their lifetime, chosen by lottery. On one extraordinary day, Zechariah was chosen for the most significant task of his life: offering incense on the altar while the congregation waited outside.

In that sacred moment, God started a new mission to redeem humanity by revealing the forerunner of the One who would remove the world's sins. The passage recounts:

And there appeared to him an angel of the Lord standing on the right side of the altar of incense. And Zechariah was troubled when he saw him, and fear fell upon him. (Luke 1:11-12)

The angel announced the birth of John the Baptist, who would call people to repentance and prepare the way for Jesus Christ. This marked the beginning of the Christmas story in the Gospel of Luke.

Lessons from Zechariah and Elizabeth

I think this story has application to those of us who question God in the face of suffering. I'm not going to provide any glib answers or formulas this morning, because you're too smart for that. This morning's topic could be the source of volumes of books. I don't have all the answers, and I don't want to dispense meaningless platitudes this morning. I want to highlight some timeless lessons from this passage, based on how Zechariah and Elizabeth reacted.

The first principle is this:

Sometimes righteous people have disappointments in life.

These godly people had lived their lives with deep disappointment, never having the child they longed for. And yet, at the beginning of the story, they're both called "upright people." We can conclude, therefore, that their situation is not a result of personal sin. Nor is it because they don't have enough faith. There are many godly people experiencing hardship, and while we don't know why, it's not just ungodly people who suffer.

In the fall of 1991, a drunk driver collided head-on with Gerald Sittser’s family minivan as they returned from a weekend trip. The crash claimed the lives of his mother, his wife of 20 years, and his four-year-old daughter. Miraculously, Sittser and his three other children survived with minimal physical injuries. Reflecting on the tragedy, Sittser writes, "A pause at a stop sign, a last-minute switch of seats before departure, a slower or faster acceleration after a turn would have spared us all unspeakable suffering."

He continues, "I have often asked the question, 'Why me?' as so many do after experiencing loss… Loss has little to do with fairness. There is often no explanation for the misery of some and the happiness of others. Our universe is far from safe—it is frequently harsh, unpredictable, and unjust, leaving us to ask again and again, 'Why me?'"

"Once I heard someone ask the opposite question, 'Why not me?'…He asked it after his wife died of cancer, acknowledging that suffering is simply a part of life. They had been married for 30 years and had enjoyed many happy moments together. But then the time came to experience another, more painful side of life. He could no more explain why his life had turned bad than he could explain why his life had been so good up to that point. 'Why not me?' is as good a question as any. This man had perspective…"

"So why not me? Why should I expect to live an entire lifetime free of disappointment and suffering? That expectation strikes me as both unrealistic and arrogant."

Why not me? I wonder how you would respond. I have a friend who plays golf, and he jokes when he has a good golf game that God must be pleased with him. But when a friend has a high golf score, he mustn't be walking with the Lord.

Theologians wrestle with the question of why bad things happen to good people. Wrestling with this problem has led some to the misguided conclusion that God is not all-powerful. The Psalms address this problem and basically teach that God will make it right in eternity. And we ask, why not now? Why is life not fair?

God tells us that hardship is not a sign of sin. It's simply the result of living in a life of pain. And the pain is simply a result of the sin that entered the world. Sometimes righteous people have disappointments in life.

A second observation is this:

We should never underestimate God.

And Zechariah said to the angel, "How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years." And the angel answered him, "I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I was sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. And behold, you will be silent and unable to speak until the day that these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time." (Luke 1:18-20)

Zechariah raises doubts about the angel's message, because he and Elizabeth are beyond childbearing age. The angel says to him in effect, "Just be quiet for a while and watch God work." And so a sign of silence is given until God performs his word. Instead of talking, Zechariah must listen to God and trust that he will do what he has promised.

Sometimes underestimating God is as dangerous as rebelling against him. Even though Zechariah was a priest, a holy man, there was obviously some slippage in his life. Zechariah didn't overtly commit a sin. Instead, he was hesitant to accept God's word. What God promises, he will perform. He made the mistake of underestimating God.

There are those of us who resemble the town that was experiencing a drought. The town gathered to pray for rain, but only one little boy brought an umbrella to the prayer meeting. We resemble the early Christians who prayed for Peter's release from prison. When God answered their prayers and freed him, they were so surprised that they thought he was a ghost. We're surprised when God answers prayer.

Don't let any of us ever doubt God's ability to answer prayer. For years now I've been praying for my father. That he would become a follower of Jesus Christ. As a child, I was confident that God would answer my prayers. But now, twenty years later, I'm tired of praying this prayer. In a sense, I'm underestimating God.

Some of you have been praying for something for a long time. If the truth is told, we're tired of praying. And if God ever answered our prayer, nobody would be more surprised than you. To you this passage says: "Don't underestimate God!"

Zechariah was a slow learner, like some of us are. God had to send him adversity before he could start learning. Maybe you and I will catch on a bit faster. I wonder if that's why some of us have such a hard time praying. We say we believe that God answers prayer, but we don't really believe it. We pray out of obligation, and we pay lip service to prayer.

But let me ask you this morning. Do you really believe that God answers prayer? Or are you underestimating God?

Sometimes righteous people have disappointments in life, but we should never underestimate God.

I learn a lesson from Elizabeth in this passage.

We can take our burden to God and rejoice when it is lifted.

Elizabeth pictures the righteous saint who takes her burden to God and rejoices when that burden is lifted. We can sympathize with Elizabeth in her childlessness. But she is also an example in how she responds. Despite her personal disappointment, she faithfully serves God. Even when the situation is reversed, she doesn't forget God, but instead rejoices in what he has done to renew her.

I love how one version translates Elizabeth's response: "She went off for five months, relishing her pregnancy. 'So, this is how God acts to remedy my unfortunate condition,' she said." God heard their prayers.

This morning, we can take whatever burden we have to God. And if God answers our prayers, we can come to God with our praise. I have two questions for you: When bad things happen, do you abandon God? Is your faith conditional on God treating you the way that you think he should? Are you one of God's fair-weather friends?

Next question: Do you stick around when things are going well? It's like the college student. The only time he ever phones home is when he needs money. Some Christians are like that. The only time they ever pray is when they need something. And when God answers prayer, they're gone. Jesus healed ten lepers, and only one came back to thank him.

Sometimes righteous people have disappointments in life, but we should never underestimate God. We can take our burden to God and rejoice when it is lifted.

There's one more lesson from this passage.

God answers in his way and in his own time.

God's plan filled a long-standing void in this couple's life, turning their years of disappointment into a story of grace. The blessing was even sweeter when it arrived because it was truly appreciated. God answered their prayer by not only fulfilling their personal desire but also giving them a son who would pave the way for Jesus Christ.

Sometimes, God’s timing is not just different from ours, it’s infinitely wiser. What he promises, he will fulfill—but always in his time and often in ways that surprise us. When the moment of fulfillment comes, we begin to see that his timing was not only better but perfect.

I once heard these words that capture this truth so well:

I asked for strength that I might achieve,
he made me weak that I might obey.
I asked for health that I might do great things,
he gave me grace that I might do better things.
I asked for riches that I might be happy,
he gave me poverty that I might be wise.
I asked for power that I might have the praise of men,
he gave me weakness that I might feel a need of God.
I asked for all things that I might enjoy life,
he gave me life that I might enjoy all things.
I received nothing I asked for,
he gave me all that I had hoped for.

Perhaps we sometimes wish we could sit in the boardroom of heaven, advising God on how to orchestrate his plans. But this passage reminds us that his plan has its own design and timing. The Creator of the universe knows exactly what he is doing.

This morning, as we consider suffering and unanswered questions, we should look to the gospel for answers to our pain. God didn’t remain distant from our struggles. In Jesus, he entered into them, bearing our sin and sorrow on the cross. He understands our grief because he experienced it, and his resurrection ensures that one day all suffering will be healed.

The story of Zechariah and Elizabeth reminds us that God’s timing is perfect, even when it feels delayed. Their son, John, prepared the way for Jesus, who would bring the ultimate hope: the restoration of all things. The cross assures us that God is with us in our pain, and the empty tomb guarantees that suffering will not have the final word.

So, as we wrestle with life’s “why” questions, let us remember the “who.” Jesus redeems our pain, transforms our mourning into joy, and assures us of a future without tears. Take your burdens to him, trust his timing, and rejoice in the hope of the gospel.