Somewhere Between It Wouldn’t Be The First Time AND Don’t Tell Nobody...
Luke 1:5-25
The season of Advent is upon us, and what a season it is. I love the great expectations that come along with this season. You can hear the buzz of joy, curiosity, expectancy, and traditions brewing. But, perhaps what I love most about this season is how predictable it is. We sing the same songs every year. We watch the same movies (cueing The Preacher’s Wife as I type this), we window shop in the same stores, we go into our attics or basements and pull out our Christmas lights, garland, and ornaments. It’s a predictable season. One that brings out memories that we can treasure for a lifetime.
Yet, also tucked away in the joy of the Advent season are the wow moments we never expected. It’s the blend of what we’re used to and the awestruck wonder that we experience with the unpredictable moments of the season. It reminds me of a portion of Alice Walker’s 4-part definition of womanism: “Traditionally capable, as in: “Mama, I’m walking to Canada, and I’m taking you and a bunch of other slaves with me.” Reply: “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
The first read of that sentence may make it seem that the mother is being harsh and not acknowledging the girls’ brilliance and ingenuity, but that isn’t what’s happening. What’s happening is that the mother is awestruck by the ability of her daughter to fall within the tradition of Black women who have found ways to free ourselves and those around us even amid our individual struggles. “It wouldn’t be the first time” is a reminder to the young girl that while her idea is brilliant, she isn’t the only one with a brilliant idea, nor is she the first. Something about that is beautifully freeing. It reminds us that we don’t carry the weight of revolution alone. Revolution is powerful and awe-producing but rarely does it happen in silos. The story we find in the gospel according to Luke 1: 5-25 is just that. Another tale of awe-striking miracles that are both shocking to Zechariah but not the first time that God has opened the womb of the barren.
As we think about the stories that come before Jesus, Luke 1: 5-25 gives us a story of Zechariah and Elizabeth that seems impossible, yet allows us to meet the story of Mary and Joseph with an, “it wouldn’t be the first time” kind of sensibility. This passage tells the origin story of John the Baptist and breaks down how his parents learned that he would be born to them. In the text, we find these words:
Luke 1:13 But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John.
Luke 1:18-20 Zechariah said to the angel, “How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years.” 19 The angel replied, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. 20 But now, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time, you will become mute, unable to speak, until the day these things occur.”
Luke 1:24 After those days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she remained in seclusion. She said, 25 “This is what the Lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.”
I love that this story that precedes Jesus’ birth is one of an older couple. Jesus is later born to the young virgin Mary, but by the time Mary becomes pregnant with Jesus, she has a precedent from the elders in her life that the impossible is possible.
I want to sit in this nexus between “It wouldn’t be the first time” and “because you did not believe my words, you will become mute, unable to speak…(Luke 1:20).” I find it striking that Zechariah’s prayer is answered, but he is silenced by the angel because he doesn’t believe. For a long time, I saw that silencing as a punishment. I thought it was cruel. Why would he be punished simply because it took him a while to accept the miracle in his life joyfully? But I’ve lived a little while now. I’ve seen some things. I’ve had my share of miracles and blessings. I’ve had my share of answered prayers. Prayers that I thought would never come to pass. And one thing I know is that we can talk ourselves out of our blessings when we don’t feel deserving.
When you’ve been praying for something for a very long time, and it seems God isn’t answering, you can get quite cynical. So cynical that when God finally does answer, you have a hard time believing that anything can change.
Could it be that Zechariah was silenced by the angel not as an act of punishment but as an act of grace? Could it be that the angel silenced Zechariah to prohibit him from talking himself out of his own blessing? Could it be that Zechariah was silenced so that his own doubt would not hinder Elizabeth’s acceptance of what God was doing in her body? Might the silencing of Zechariah symbolize the gift of allowing that couple to simply receive the blessing God was giving them without having to broadcast it and explain it?
It reminds me again of the womanish girlchild who was so anxious to loudly announce her plan of going to Canada and taking the slaves with her to her mother. Could it be that there are some things in our lives that God is doing that require us to process internally before we try to make sense of it for others? Isn’t the mother’s response in the womanism definition a form of silencing? Not silencing to stifle, but silencing incorrect assumptions that the little girl holds? I see the mother’s response as alerting her daughter that she can make her claim but it needs to be rooted in the truth of what has gone before her and what will come after her. In a way, the mother silenced the portion of the girlchild’s sentence that assumed that she is the only one seeking freedom and reframed the possibility of what the girl hoped for while also reminding her that she wasn’t alone.
My bible readers know that Elizabeth is in her third trimester when Mary gets pregnant with Jesus, and Elizabeth is able to encourage Mary in private. The two women go on to birth John the Baptist and Jesus. Zechariah’s ability to speak returns after the baby’s birth.
May I admit that I, too, am somewhere between it wouldn’t be the first time and don’t tell nobody? After nearly two years of a global pandemic, slain black bodies, unjust court trials, acquittals for the guilty, and prison sentences for the innocent, my soul is exhausted. Yet, I’m looking forward to this advent season more than usual because I am in greater need of restored hope & predictable rhythms. The cyclical nature of Christmas hymns, smiling children, and the story of the coming Christ are keeping me going right now. And I don’t think I’m the only one.
I’m somewhere between “it wouldn’t be the first time” every time someone tells me they’re ready to fight for justice and “don’t tell nobody” every time someone gets shocked by the hardship of this long journey of fighting for freedom. So I’m taking courage this advent season in the story of Zechariah that suggests that even when God grants what we’ve been praying for, it can be hard to receive it without tainting its beauty and possibilities. Sometimes we need to silence our disbelief. Silence our need to over-explain. Silence our need to over-function. Silence our need to be the sole example for others. Sometimes we need to celebrate our answered prayers but remind ourselves; this isn’t the first time.
If I were preaching this, this would be my close and my shout. As good as God has been to you. As many prayers as God has answered for you. It’s not the first time. God has been in the business of working miracles long before you. God has been breaking barriers and destroying limitations long before you. And that’s a reason to rejoice. You don’t carry the burden of being God’s only witness. You don’t have to run yourself ragged trying to be all things to all people. God has raised up many people who are praying the same prayers and acting on the things that God is instructing them to do. You aren’t the only one. So every now and again, enter periods of silence when God says yes.
Now and again, give yourself the gift of silence, so you don’t talk yourself out of receiving what God intends for you. Many people use the last two weeks of December as a time of respite, vacation, and reset. I urge you. Take this time to silently respond to the yes’ God has granted you in prayer. Take your rest. Meditate on what God has done. Do what you must do to preserve the hopefulness of your soul. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Pastor Gabby Cudjoe Wilkes works at the intersection of faith, culture, leadership, and strategy. She travels the country as a public speaker and strategist, working with individuals and institutions to dream strategically about the impact they wish to leave on the world. Her work centers storytelling, prophetic imagination, and design thinking as key tools for maximum impact. Pastor Gabby is the Co-Founding, co-lead pastor of The Double Love Experience Church in Brooklyn, New York. Before launching her church, she served on the pastoral staff of New York City megachurch: The Greater Allen Cathedral of New York for five years as a young adult co-pastor.
She's a proud graduate of Hampton University, New York University, & Yale University Divinity School where she serves on the alumni board. Pastor Gabby is currently in her last semester of coursework at Duke Divinity School where she is pursuing her Doctorate in Ministry. She was featured in Forbes in 2020 and Essence in 2019 & 2016. She lives in Brooklyn with her husband Andrew.