Immediately Zachariah’s mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God. (Luke 1:64)

Today’s reflection is by Kimberly Bauser
Member of University Lutheran Church

Writer's block: that feeling of the words in my head being stopped up somewhere, spinning and swelling but occluded from making it out of me. The oppressive blank page holds none of my ideas but all of my anxiety, my fear and frustration. Like Zachariah waving about without a sound, I fear for my reputation among my colleagues, the respect of my family, my job. We feel alone, as no one else can understand our silenced reality (poor Zachariah, after all, was mute not deaf when his friends motioned to him their concern [Luke 1:62]), and we search for explanation.

It must be the case, Luke would have us think, that we have failed somehow, Zachariah and I. Zachariah questioned the angel, Luke interprets. I, too, question my calling. I doubt. I struggle. And it is all too easy to assume, in my narrow view of the world, that this must be why I am suffering in my own silence. We must have failed. It is for missing God’s words that our own have been taken; or, so Luke would have us believe.

The Evangelist tries to interpret God’s motivations, because he and we want to know God’s mysteries. The unknowing can be even more uncomfortable than the silence. But, it is not our knowing that sets us free. Neither our doing. Nor even our believing. It is the mysterious truth of God, the one who opens mouths and the kingdom, who frees tongues and people. For the praise of that God, in all God’s mysteries, we have been and are being set free.