The Voice In The Wilderness

Have you ever had one of those moments where, as the words are leaving your mouth, you know you're making a terrible mistake? I had one of those back in 2014. I had just started my first "real" job at an advertising agency, and I was so excited that I went straight from work and bought an engagement ring for my girlfriend, Cassy. Which would have been great... if I hadn't immediately called to tell her about it.

Now, for those of you who are single, or who have been married so long you've forgotten how this works, let me give you some free advice: If you buy an engagement ring, maybe don't tell the person you're planning to give it to. And if you do slip up and tell them – definitely don't then wait 18 months to actually propose. Yes, you heard that right. Eighteen months. I can see some of you women doing the math in your heads right now, and yes, it was exactly as bad as you're thinking. See, shortly after buying the ring, I lost that advertising job. And I just couldn't bring myself to ask her parents for permission to marry their daughter with the stellar pitch of, "I know I don't have a job right now, but I'll definitely get one. Probably. Eventually. Maybe?"

So I waited. And waited. And waited. And Cassy... well, let's just say she practiced patience. A lot of patience. The kind of patience that occasionally came with pointed questions like, "So... remember that ring you bought? The one that's apparently in witness protection somewhere?" We did eventually get married – October 1st, 2016, for those wondering if this story has a happy ending. But that season of waiting, have you ever waited for something so long that you started to wonder if it would ever actually happen? Maybe it was waiting to hear back about a job – checking your email every few minutes, jumping every time your phone buzzes. Or waiting for medical test results – each day feeling like an eternity as you try to stay positive but can't help wondering "what if?" Or maybe you've had a loved one deployed overseas, and you're counting down the days until they come home, but the days just seem to stretch on and on.

That feeling of anticipation, mixed with uncertainty, maybe even doubt – it can be overwhelming.

You know what I mean, right? That knot in your stomach, the way time seems to slow down, how you try to stay hopeful but sometimes catch yourself wondering if what you're waiting for will ever really happen. We've all been there. But here's what's amazing – imagine multiplying that feeling of waiting not by days or weeks or months, but by centuries.

A Season of Waiting

That's exactly where the Jewish people found themselves when our story begins. They had been waiting for the promised Messiah for over 400 years. That's like if we were still waiting for something promised during the time of the Mayflower! And not only were they waiting, but God seemed silent. No prophets. No divine messages. Nothing. The last words they had received from God were through the prophet Malachi, who had told them to watch for a messenger who would prepare the way for the Lord.

And then... silence.

Generation after generation passed. Children grew up hearing the stories of God's promises. They told these stories to their children, who told them to their children. But still they waited.

And then something happened. Something big. And the person God chose to tell this story first might surprise you. His name was John Mark, and early in his Christian life, he was known as something of a failure. He had started out as a missionary with Paul and Barnabas – Barnabas was actually his cousin – but when things got tough, he quit and went home. Paul was so disappointed in Mark that he refused to work with him again, and it actually caused a split between Paul and Barnabas. But here's what I love about this story – it doesn't end there. God wasn't done with Mark. Over time, Mark matured in his faith. He became close to the apostle Peter, who became like a spiritual mentor to him. In fact, most of what we read in this Gospel comes from Peter's own sermons of his time with Jesus. That's why it feels so immediate, so action-packed – we're getting Peter's eyewitness account through Mark's pen. And by the end of his life, even Paul had completely changed his mind about Mark, calling him "very useful to me for ministry."

Think about that – the person God chose to write the very first Gospel was someone who had failed, someone who had quit, someone who needed a second chance. That tells us something beautiful about God, doesn't it? He doesn't just use perfect people. Probably because they don’t exist, but no, He uses real people, with real struggles and real failures, to accomplish His purposes. So, when Mark sits down to tell us about it, he does something that might seem strange to us. He skips the beginning. No journey to Bethlehem. No stable. No angels appearing to Mary. No shepherds keeping watch by night. No wise men following a star. Where’s Christmas? We're just flying right past all of that? Right past the nativity scene that we put up every December?