The Plan Still Stands

So this morning, I'll be bringing a word from Luke 1: 5–25. And I guess I just want to start with a question. Have you ever made a plan that completely fell apart? Maybe it was a career move or a relationship. Maybe it was a family decision — something you laid out carefully, only to watch it unravel because of a change you didn't expect. Life has a way of disrupting even our best-laid plans. And sometimes, if we're honest, that makes it hard to believe God has a perfect plan, because often we project our uncertainty onto God.

But what if God's plan never falters? From the very beginning, God has had a redemptive plan, a promise to rescue, restore, and redeem what sin has broken. He promised a deliverer in Genesis. He called people through Abraham. He sent prophets, gave promises, and laid the groundwork for salvation — but then, silence. For 400 years, we heard nothing. God's people waited. No prophet, no fresh word, just longing and prayer.

As was taught last week, Luke writes so that we may have certainty about the things we're taught from the Bible, but how will he show us that? How will he give us confidence? He'll point out facts, names, dates, places, and prophecies fulfilled. He will show us that what God promised, God is doing. And he begins by showing us a priest named Zechariah and a woman named Elizabeth. The silence is about to be broken — not with fire, but with mercy; not to kings, but to ordinary people. And in this first movement, we will see something miraculous. God works out his redemptive plan even when our faith is weak.

So I'd like to read the entire passage right now. If you have your Bibles with you, please open them to Luke 1: 5. Use your phone, whatever you might have. We'll read through it, and then I'll spend the rest of my time walking through the text, pointing out a few things.

This is the word of the Lord.

So how does God begin to work out his redemptive plan?

God Remembers His Plan in Real Time

You'll notice that he doesn't start with action, or presence, or even a miracle. He starts with a reminder. Luke takes us into the story by anchoring us in real time, real people, and real history. And what we begin to see in these verses is this: God never forgets his redemptive plan.

Luke begins this story by setting the stage. In verse five, he writes, "In the days of Herod, king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, of the division of Abijah. And he had a wife from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. " Luke is showing us that God's redemptive plan doesn't happen in isolation; it's anchored in real time. This moment comes in the days of Herod — a time of political corruption that was spiritually dry. Israel had a puppet king, and Rome was in control, but God had not abandoned his covenant. His lamp had not gone out. Even in decline, God preserves a remnant. Even in silence, he prepares to speak.

Zechariah was a priest — not a prophet, not a warrior, not a king. He belongs to the division of Abijah, and his wife Elizabeth is from the daughters of Aaron, who was Israel's first high priest. So this is a double priestly lineage that would have stood out. Luke highlights it to show us something — not just their genealogy, but their covenant faithfulness. Their lives were marked by obedience, grounded in Israel's calling to be holy. They were in every way a faithful remnant.

And Luke continues in verse six: "And they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord. " I don't think Luke says that lightly, righteous before God. Their obedience reflects deep covenant faithfulness. They live in submission to God's word, and in a time marked by silence, waiting, and political corruptness, they represent a faithful remnant — not sinless, but sincere.

Luke continues in verse seven: "But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years. " So Zechariah and Elizabeth were faithful, yet empty-handed; righteous, but unrewarded. By now they may have even given up hope for a child, believing that it simply wasn't God's plan for them. But their story is familiar. It echoes others we've seen in scripture. Sarah, Rebekah, Hannah — all barren women, all touched by God's mercy. These weren't just stories of answered prayers, though. They were moments where God moved his redemptive plan forward, not by human strength, but by divine intervention. Because God alone gives life, and his promises never fail.

God Initiates His Plan in Ordinary Faithfulness

With verses eight through ten, Luke shifts the focus to Zechariah's priestly duty. And with this shift, we begin to see more movement in God's redemptive plan. God launches his plan in this quiet place of worship. A priest is offering incense, a people are praying outside in the middle of ordinary faithfulness. God begins to unfold something extraordinary.

Let's look at verses eight through ten again. "Now while he was serving as priest before God, when his division was on duty, according to the custom of the priesthood, he was chosen by lot to enter the temple of the Lord and burn incense. " "And the whole multitude of the people were praying outside at the hour of incense. " This was no ordinary assignment for Zechariah. According to Exodus 30, incense was to be offered on the altar every morning and every night. It was done in the holy place, just outside the veil separating it from the Most Holy Place — the place where God's presence had once dwelt above the ark. This was as close as any ordinary priest would ever come to the earthly presence of God. And Zechariah was stepping into that sacred place, fulfilling a priestly duty that represented the prayers of Israel before the Lord. Psalm 141 gives us this imagery: "Let my prayer be counted as incense before you, and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice. "

And it wasn't luck that this story worked out the way it did — it was sovereignty. I'm going to go into the weeds just a little bit to prove that out. There were an estimated 18, 000 to 20, 000 priests in Israel at this time. They were divided into 24 divisions, and each division served in the temple two weeks per year. Only a handful of the priests were chosen by lot to offer incense; you could only be selected one time in your life, and many never had the opportunity. Zechariah's name being called on this day, in this hour, at this point in history was providential. It was providential precision on God's part.

God's Word Breaks the Silence

And Luke goes on in verse 10 to say, "And the whole multitude of the people were praying outside at the hour of incense. " This wasn't private devotion; this was public, national, covenant intercession. The silence of God had stretched across centuries, and now as incense rose from the altar where Zechariah was, the people outside lifted up their hearts in hope. And while the people were gathered in prayer, God was preparing an answer. While incense rose, an angel descended.

The word of God had been silent for 400 years, but when God chose to speak again, he did so not apart from prayer, but in the very heart of it. God's plan moves through an angel. He speaks a specific, personal, redemptive promise — one that will prepare the way for everything to come. Because God always initiates his redemptive plan with a promise. And we will see next that God sends his messenger with a personal mercy and a global promise.

Luke writes in verse 11: "And there appeared to him an angel of the Lord standing on the right side of the altar of incense. " This is not a vision, or something internal, or even something symbolic. It's not a prophet delivering a word from God. This is direct intervention from heaven. It is an angel appearing in the temple, standing before the priest as the incense rises and prayer fills the court. Luke is intentional in echoing scenes from the Old Testament, where divine messengers appeared at key moments to announce new movements of God's redemptive plan. In Genesis 18, the Lord appeared to Abraham to announce the birth of Isaac. In Judges 6, the angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon to call him as deliverer. But probably the clearest echo is found in Daniel 9: 21 and 23, where Gabriel — the same angel named here — appears to Daniel during prayer to declare God's purposes.

So the angel stands on the right side — I guess your right side would be over here — the right side of the altar. It's a position that often symbolizes divine favor, authority, and blessing. And this is no random detail. It's signaling to us that something significant is unfolding: the people are praying, the priest is ministering, and heaven is preparing to speak.

So Zechariah sees this angel, and his response is immediate. This faithful, seasoned priest — a man well-versed in temple duties and familiar with the rhythms of worship — is a little freaked out. Because when God's silence breaks, even a faithful servant will tremble. Verse 12 says, "And Zechariah was troubled when he saw him, and fear fell upon him. " So this isn't surprise. Luke doesn't say Zechariah was startled; he says fear fell upon him. This was a sudden, soul-deep kind of fear. And this fear is not unusual in scripture. It's the right response of sinful humanity encountering the majesty and purity of God. But this is also the movement of the gospel: fear in the face of holiness, peace through the promise of salvation.

And that's exactly what happens next. In verse 13 it says, "But the angel said to him, 'Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. '" So God is not absent. He has heard, he has seen, and Zechariah has not been forgotten. The angel says, "Your prayer has been heard. " I don't know about you, but those are five words that I find myself often longing to hear. And maybe Zechariah had long stopped expecting to hear them. Maybe he had prayed this prayer for decades. Maybe he had given up praying it altogether, but God never forgot. And when the answer finally came, it was more than Zechariah could ever have imagined.

The Promise of John the Baptist

What follows is a promise, a deeply personal one, and it says, "Your wife will bear you a son. " And the angel says, "And you shall call his name John. " This might have seemed a little unusual in that time, because you would expect it to be a family name. But it's not Zechariah, not a family name, but John, which means "the Lord is gracious. " God is gracious. He's not silent in judgment, but in preparation. And now the silence breaks — not with wrath, but with mercy; with favor, with a name that tells the story: Yahweh has shown grace.

And in this movement, we see God's redemptive plan continues to move, not through human strength, but through trembling faith; not in triumph, but in mercy. Zechariah is afraid, he's uncertain, but God speaks anyway. He moves forward anyway. His plan doesn't wait on perfect faith. It rests on perfect grace.

And then the angel Gabriel says in verse 14, "And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth. " Many will rejoice — not just family and neighbors, but Israel. Because this child, this miracle boy, will be more than an answer to prayer. He will be the beginning of fulfillment. He will be the forerunner, or the herald, of Christ. And obviously, Zechariah and Elizabeth will be full of joy. With their years of prayer finally answered, of course they would give way to laughter and praise. But Gabriel makes it clear this joy will not be theirs alone. Many will rejoice. Why is that? Why many?

I think it's answered in verse 15: "For he will be great before the Lord. " "He must not drink wine or strong drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother's womb. " So John's birth marks the end of that silence. He will be the first prophetic voice since Malachi, and the one that Malachi foretold. Gabriel's announcement echoes Malachi 4: 5–6, where God promised to send Elijah before the day of the Lord. John is that Elijah. His life will be marked by calling Israel to repentance in Luke 3, turning hearts back to God as we'll see in a minute in verses 16 and 17, and preparing a people ready for the coming Messiah, our Lord Jesus Christ.

And that's what brings joy — not just the birth, but the mission. John came to call sinners to repentance, to prepare hearts for salvation. As Jesus would later say in Luke 15, there is more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents. John's ministry wasn't light or secondary; it was part of God's saving work. Isaiah 40 says — to summarize verses one through five — that a voice would cry in the wilderness to prepare the way of the Lord and bring comfort to God's people. That voice is John. And this child, John, will be the one to make the path straight.

Verse 15 continues, "And he must not drink wine or strong drink. " This likely connects to the Nazirite vow described in Numbers 6, where a person was set apart for a special purpose before God and refrained from drink as a sign of consecration or special devotion to God. So the angel didn't just announce a birth; he announced a calling, a consecration. This child's life wouldn't be ordinary — no wine, no strong drink. Why? Because he would be filled with something better, someone better: the Spirit of God.

Verse 15 finishes with, "And he will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother's womb. " This is utterly unique in all of scripture. No other person is said to be filled with the Spirit before birth. God didn't wait for John to grow up to start using him. He didn't wait for him to get his act together. He filled him with the Holy Spirit before he was even born. Why? Because salvation is of the Lord, because grace comes before breath, and because the preparation for Jesus required a voice that was shaped by God from the womb.

This is no ordinary child and no ordinary plan. All of this shows us that God's redemptive plan does not wait on perfect conditions or perfect people. Zechariah doubted. Elizabeth was barren. No one could see what God was doing, but God was already doing his work. He was preparing a prophet, filling him with the Spirit, and moving the plan forward from the inside out. That's the point. Even when faith is weak, even when understanding is limited, God is still faithfully carrying out his redemptive plan.

And now God's promise points back to prophecy and forward to fulfillment. Verse 16 says, "And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God. " This is covenant language: turn. It's what the prophets always called Israel to do — to come back to God. Malachi says hearts would turn. In Isaiah 10, Isaiah said a remnant would return. Hosea pleaded, "Come, let us return to the Lord" in Hosea 6: 1. And Joel cried, "Return to me with all your heart. " John's not inventing a new message. He's picking up where the prophets left off, but doing it in a climatic way because the Messiah is near.

And notice this: the verse says many, not all. Luke is showing us that not everyone responds, but those whom God calls do. This is the doctrine of election at work. God moves first, calling and preparing hearts for himself. John's role isn't to create a movement; it's to prepare the hearts that God has already called. It's a picture of grace that's both effectual and specific.

And did you catch what's happening here in verse 16? Gabriel says John will turn people back to the Lord their God. But then in the next verse, he says John will go before him. So who exactly is John going before? If it's the Lord their God, then Luke is making something very clear. The one John is preparing the way for is God himself.

That's high Christology. That's why Luke connects this to Isaiah 40: 3 — "prepare the way of the Lord" — and Malachi 3: 1, "he will prepare the way before me. " It's subtle, but it's clear: Jesus is Yahweh.

Verse 17 says, "And he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared. " This isn't about Elijah reincarnated; it's about the prophetic pattern. John will come like Elijah: bold, urgent, clear, calling out sin, calling people to repentance, getting hearts ready.

And that phrase, "turn the hearts of the fathers to the children" — it might sound poetic, and you might wonder what it means. I think it's really about restoration. It's what happens when God starts to heal what sin has fractured. Think of a family living in separate rooms, barely speaking or communicating to each other. When repentance enters, the walls start to come down, a father's heart softens, a child's heart opens, and a cold relationship starts to beat with warmth. That's what John's ministry starts to stir — not just in families, but in the family of Israel.

And when he says the disobedient will turn to the wisdom of the just, it's another way of saying that rebellious people will begin to walk in righteousness. That's what happens when the Spirit moves. And it's all leading to this: "to make ready for the Lord a people prepared. " John isn't the point, he's the voice. He's the one clearing the way so the King can come through. Zechariah is weak. Israel is wandering, but God is still working. He's calling hearts. He's preparing people. He's sending a prophet, and more than that, he's coming himself. God's redemptive plan isn't stalled by silence, or doubt, or rebellion. It's moving forward because it rests on him, not on us.

God's Promise Meets Our Doubt

So Luke has just shown us the divine plan, the angelic messenger, and the miraculous promise. But even in the face of such clarity, Zechariah responds not with faith, but with hesitation. And through his weakness, we're reminded that God's word does not depend on the strength of our belief. Thank goodness, right? His promises stand because he stands behind them. So we'll see here that God's word is met with doubt, but his promise still stands.

Let's look at verse 18: "And Zechariah said to the angel, 'How shall I know this? '" "'For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years. '" This moment shows us how even the faithful can falter. Zechariah — a priest standing in a temple, visited by an angel, given a direct promise from God — does not respond with worship, but with doubt. His question, "How shall I know this? " is not a humble request for understanding. It's a demand for proof. He's not asking God how he will do it; he's questioning if God can do it. Zechariah appeals to human limitation, not divine power: "I'm an old man, and my wife is advanced in years. "

He's thinking in terms of biology, not theology. But notice Gabriel doesn't say, "Because you were confused. " He says, "Because you did not believe. " That's the verdict. The issue is not uncertainty; it's unbelief. And now, God disciplines Zechariah — not to condemn him, but to correct him. Zechariah's unbelief will silence him, but it won't disqualify him. His doubt limits his joy, but not God's plan. The promise will still come because God's word is not dependent on the strength of our faith.

But sometimes our joy of experiencing that is. Verse 19: "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. '" So this is kind of like a divine reality check. Zechariah asks, "How can I know? " And Gabriel responds, "I'm Gabriel. I'm an angel. You know who I am. " Zechariah likely would have recognized the name Gabriel, because Gabriel was the one who appeared to Daniel, the prophet who wrote about the coming of the Messiah in Daniel 8. But Gabriel doesn't stop with his name.

He says, "I stand in the presence of God. " To stand in the presence of God means Gabriel has immediate access to the throne. He's part of the divine court, the heavenly council. He has been personally sent, commissioned by God to deliver this message. And what does Gabriel bring? That good news. It's the first time Luke uses that word, the same Greek word we get gospel from. Gabriel isn't just announcing a birth here; he's announcing that God's long-promised redemption is starting to unfold in real time.

So how does God respond to Zechariah's lack of faith? Not in anger. He responds with discipline. Not to shame, but to shepherd. He corrects, but he doesn't cancel. And now we come to verse 20, which is kind of like that hinge verse. Let's look at what verse 20 says: "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. "

Zechariah doubted, and the punishment is that he'll be silent, but none of that changes the fact that God's promise is still going to be fulfilled. With that phrase, "And behold, " Luke is just saying: pay attention, something big is happening here. Zechariah had asked for a sign, and the one he got just wasn't the kind he was expecting. His silence becomes the sign. His muteness becomes the answer. But don't miss that this sign is not the end of the story; the fulfillment is.

Gabriel doesn't just correct, he reassures: "These things will be fulfilled. " That line is the hinge in the whole story. It's the heartbeat of Luke's theology. God's word can be trusted. Even when belief wavers, God's promise stands firm. His redemptive plan doesn't depend on human certainty; it rests on divine faithfulness.

Zechariah's silence, then, is not rejection; it's refinement. For nine months he carries the promise in silence, watching God work. And when his speech returns in Luke 1: 64, the first words out of his mouth are worship. That silence did its work. Doubt gave way to praise. And Luke is showing us something powerful. God's promises are not undone by our weakness; his word will be fulfilled in his time. Though Zechariah cannot speak, God's word does not stop. His plan continues quietly, steadily, and faithfully.

God Works in the Waiting

Verse 21 says, "And the people were waiting for Zechariah, and they were wondering at his delay in the temple. " This almost feels like a pause. We've had all this drama going on in the temple, and it's like, "Oh, and the people. " But the people outside were waiting. Normally, the priest would have gone in, made the offering of incense, and then returned pretty quickly. But that's not what happens here. When the priest came out, they would have been given a blessing. That's what the people would have been expecting: the offering of incense, the priest comes out, and then he offers the blessing from Numbers 6, "The Lord bless you and keep you. "

But Zechariah doesn't come out, and the longer the delay, the more confused and maybe even fearful the people became. In Jewish tradition, a delay in the holy place could be a bad sign. Had something gone wrong? Was there judgment? Was their offering rejected? Luke wants us to sit in that uncertainty. The people don't know what's happening, but something clearly is unfolding. God is working, but it's still hidden from them.

And then verse 22 says, "And when he came out, he was unable to speak to them, " "and they realized that he had seen a vision in the temple. And he kept making signs to them and remained mute. " So Zechariah finally appears, but he's silent. He doesn't speak the blessing. He doesn't explain the delay. He just makes signs with his hands. And in that moment, the people realize something divine has happened.

He's seen a vision. Zechariah had asked for a sign, but he becomes one. His muteness confirms what Gabriel said — not just to Zechariah, but to the crowd. The priest can't speak, but God is still communicating. Luke is showing us that this isn't just about Zechariah's personal experience. This is a public marker. The sign is not just for him; it's for them. Even though they don't fully understand yet, they know something extraordinary is occurring. Revelation unfolds in steps: a word, a sign, then clarity. And right now, Zechariah is living in the middle of it. He can't explain it, but God is already moving.

And now in verse 23, we see an obedient Zechariah — silent, disciplined, but faithful. It says, "And when his time of service was ended, he went to his home. " There's no fanfare, no explanation, no angelic encore. In quiet obedience, Zechariah finishes his week of service and then goes home. He is still mute, still carrying the weight of the promise, still waiting. God's correction didn't disqualify him.

This is faith in action. Zechariah walks forward, not seeing the fulfillment, but trusting in the one who promised. Even in discipline, God's mercy remains. Zechariah is still invited to participate in God's redemptive plan. This moment shows us that even when we don't see the whole picture, when we're confused, waiting, or bearing the weight of discipline, God is still working. His plan doesn't depend on us having full clarity; it just calls us to keep walking in faith.

The Beginning of Fulfillment

And now, while Zechariah returns home in silence, God's word begins to unfold — not with noise, but with life. The promise moves from announcement to fulfillment. Let's look at our last two verses, verses 24 and 25: "After these days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she kept herself hidden, saying, 'Thus the Lord has done for me in the days when he looked on me, to take away my reproach among people. '"

This is the beginning of fulfillment. It's not the culmination, but it's the unmistakable movement of God's redemptive plan. A barren woman conceives, the silence is broken, the forerunner to the Messiah has been conceived. Redemption is already underway. And Luke is careful here; he's not just celebrating the pregnancy, he's establishing a pattern. This conception, as miraculous as it is, sets the stage for an even greater one: the virgin conception of Jesus Christ. You'll get to hear more about that next week, so make sure you're here for that.

But here, God begins to move through a quiet miracle in a quiet home, with a faithful woman and a disciplined husband. And Elizabeth's response is deeply personal. She doesn't just acknowledge the miracle; she gives credit to the one who made it happen. She says, "The Lord has done this for me. " He saw her, he lifted her reproach, he acted with mercy, and her first words in response are filled with worship. This is how Luke ends this scene — not with trumpet blasts, not with crowds, but with personal, grateful praise. A woman once called barren is now singing of God's mercy.

The story has begun, the forerunner has been conceived, and the first voice we hear is one of worship. God works out his redemptive plan even when our faith is weak. It's not just a summary of the passage; it's a lens for our lives. So how do we live in the light of Luke 1: 5–25? Just two quick points of application. There are many more. I'm hoping that in growth groups this week, you can dive into more detail on the things going on here. Many applications could be drawn, but just real quick, two points of application.