Christmas: Past, Present, Future

INTRODUCTION

Christmas always pulls us into memory. We can’t help it. Every song, every smell, every blinking light seems to whisper something from yesterday. I have ornaments on my tree that are so old they have seen better decades. Some are handmade, held together by glue and nostalgia. Others were gifts from people who now live only in my memories. My wife and I can stand there, just looking at a single ornament, and be transported clear back to another chapter in life.

Christmas doesn’t just mark time. It gathers time. It brings our past, our present, and our future all into the same room. We feel joy and ache at the same time. We celebrate and we miss people. We laugh, and sometimes we cry into our cocoa. Christmas wakes up both our longing and our hope.

It is the perfect season to remember a truth God has been singing over the world since Bethlehem:

He came. He comes. He’s coming again.

That’s the heartbeat of Christmas:

• Christmas Past reminds us what God has already done.

• Christmas Present reminds us what God is doing now.

• Christmas Future reminds us where we are heading.

Let’s explore those three tenses of the Gospel, starting where the Christmas story begins… not in a stable… but in a quiet temple, with a startled priest who suddenly has nothing to say.

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CHRISTMAS PAST

When God steps into history, ordinary people step into His story.

Zechariah: The surprise of unanswered prayers being answered

Zechariah is a character who doesn’t appear on many Christmas cards. He doesn’t usually fit in the nativity set between the shepherds and the sheep. Yet Luke tells his story first, before Mary, before the manger, before anything with angels singing above pastures.

Zechariah is old. He’s faithful. He’s tired. He and Elizabeth have prayed for children, but those prayers are filed under “I guess that wasn’t God’s plan.” Life has moved on.

Then one ordinary workday… everything changes.

He is standing in the holy place, doing exactly what he has been trained to do for decades, when suddenly an angel appears. Not a chubby baby with wings. A warrior of the presence of God. Zechariah’s knees buckle. His heart tries to escape his chest. Luke says he was “gripped with fear.” I would be, too. Most of us would invent new ways to faint.

Gabriel speaks calm into the panic:

“Do not be afraid. Your prayer has been heard.”

Zechariah is thinking, Which prayer? The one Elizabeth and I stopped praying years ago?

Gabriel continues:

“Your wife will bear you a son. Call him John. He will prepare the way for the Lord.”

The greatest prophet in centuries—and that prophet will be your son. A fresh work of God, bursting into your family.

Zechariah’s response is painfully familiar:

“How can I be sure? I’m old. She’s old. I need proof.”

We nod because we know that reflex. We pray for miracles then panic if they come true.

Gabriel practically says:

“I didn’t come from a fortune cookie. I came from the throne room.”

And Zechariah loses his voice for nine months. Not as punishment. As preparation. As silence to make room for wonder.

Because when God interrupts your life, doubt may be understandable, but trust unlocks joy.

We relate to Zechariah because we also ask:

“Was that God… or just my imagination?”

“Could a blessing like that really be for someone like me?”

“Does God still do big things?”

Christmas Past declares: Yes. He does.

God hasn’t stopped speaking. We have just grown accustomed to silence.

Mary: Courage that whispers “Yes” through trembling hands

Then Gabriel knocks on another door. And now the story turns extraordinary.

Mary is young. Poor. Female. In the ancient world, she is one of the least powerful people you could meet. And she is the one God has chosen to carry His Son?

The angel gives her a promise that defies biology, tradition, logic:

“You will conceive by the Holy Spirit. You will bear the Messiah.”

Mary has every reason to panic.

What will Joseph say?

What will her parents think?

What will her town assume?

Will anyone believe the truth?

Faith doesn’t remove those questions. Faith decides which voice gets the final say.

Mary’s response is not a theological treatise. Not a bargaining session. Not a request for guarantees. It is a surrendered heart:

“I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.”

Her yes becomes the doorway through which God steps into the world.

Before shepherds knew to search the skies… before angels filled the fields… before wise men saw a star… a teenage girl whispered,

“Yes, Lord.”

Christmas Past brings us two contrasting portraits:

• Zechariah shows us honest hesitation.

• Mary shows us bold surrender.