When Sacrifice and Praise Clash

Years ago, a friend described to me the most difficult praise she had ever offered. She'd gotten sick, then sicker, then even more sick. Her fever had steadily climbed and couldn't seem to reach a holding point. She couldn't keep food or water down. Medicines weren't helping, and the hospital was imminent. As she shivered beneath her blankets, she heard the Holy Spirit tell her: Get out of bed. Praise Me.

My friend attributed the voice to delirium, but it wouldn't leave her alone. Get out of bed. Praise Me. She protested (who could praise the Lord when she felt like she did?), but her protests were feeble. In spite of her weakness and fever, delirium, and lack of strength, she knew the Lord's voice, and she obeyed it.

She told me about the moment she placed her bare feet on the cold, hardwood floor. Everything, everything, inside her wanted to crawl back into that bed. But she made herself stand beside the bed, cup her hands in front of her, and sing one of the praise songs she'd often sung in church. As she stood there in her weakness and praised the Lord, strength flooded her muscles. As she raised her hands above her head, her fever broke. "That," she told me, "was my sacrifice of praise."

I'd never thought of what it meant to make praise a sacrifice before. I'd sung the song as a kid in my church: "We bring the sacrifice of praise into the house of the Lord." It had evoked images of the Israelites bringing their offerings to the Tabernacle, praising the Lord for His mercy and forgiveness. But it had never occurred to me the strength of the juxtaposition between sacrifice and praise.

When we are we weak, then He is strong. "My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9).

This morning in Luke 1, I read how Zechariah the priest went into the temple to burn incense before the Lord. "Then an angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was startled and was gripped with fear. But the angel said to him: 'Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard.'" The angel went on to tell him that his wife was going to have a son -- to note: Both Zechariah and Elizabeth were "well along in years." Year after year had gone by with no children, Elizabeth was firmly established as barren, and so this contrasting announcement was startling, more so, because it was delivered by an angel, which... from what I understand... is a relatively unusual circumstance.

Zechariah, to parallel my friend's story, is under the covers at the height of his fever, and when he hears the whisper of the Holy Spirit, he shuts it down. Nah. Too impossible. Too improbable. Too unrealistic. Too, too, too. "How can I be sure of this?" he asked the angel. "I am an old man and my wife is well along in years."

Because of his doubt, because of his too's, the Lord punished him by tying up his tongue for the nine months of Elizabeth's very real pregnancy, and he was unable to speak. During those nine months, what do you think went on in Zechariah's heart? The Scriptures don't tell us, but put yourself in his place. What would you think and feel? Would you accept the Lord's discipline? Or would you throw it off in rebellion? Would you be angry? Or would you be peaceful? Fearful that you'd never speak again? Or accepting of your new circumstances? One thing we know: Zechariah was not unaffected, and we'll see why in just a second.

When their son was born, all the neighbors showed up with a name for the boy, as neighbors do (would you let your neighbors name your baby?). They got ready to declare to the world that a little Zechariah had joined the family, but Elizabeth shook her head. "Nope," she said, 'we're going to call him John."

But, but, but... there's nobody in the family already named John. No, you should call him Zechariah Junior. Zechariah Senior, maybe you'll correct your wife. Go on, confirm for us what we already know.

Zechariah Senior, who had lived for nine months beneath the Lord's discipline, and perhaps may have gone through stages of grief, of despair (maybe he'd accepted he might never talk again), of anger, of fear... he writes on a tablet: "His name is John." And all at once, his tongue is freed, and he can speak again.

So here's the application. We all know this story. But this is what hit me freshly this morning: The very first words out of Zechariah's mouth after nine months of discipline were these: "Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, because He has come and has redeemed His people."

Zechariah praised in spite of his natural inclinations. He praised in the hard circumstances. He praised when his life went waaaaay out of whack. He praised even though he couldn't necessarily see the end game. He brought a sacrifice of praise to the Lord. He brought praise... in the storm.

Where are the hard places in your life? They shouldn't be very hard to find, because we all have them. Where have you found it difficult to see God working? Look at the places that are near your heart, that make you feel vulnerable. Then retract the lens just a bit and look wider. Where are the places in your community that are hurting? In your state? In your nation? In the world?

Then try this, just as a simple prayer exercise. Get a blank piece of paper and a writing utensil. On the left side of the paper, write down your vulnerable spots. Write down the places you've struggled with God. Write down the areas you don't want to hand to Him, for one reason or another. Write down your weaknesses.

Then hold that paper in your hands. Stand up, sit down, kneel, raise your hands, do something that makes you just a little uncomfortable. Because what you're getting ready to do shouldn't be comfortable. Praise God for the hard things. That's right, praise!

Finally, on the right side of the same paper, write down how you praised Him for those circumstances. Write down your sacrifice of praise, because I want you to remember this beyond this evening. Keep your paper with you and put it in a place that you'll see often: Your bathroom mirror, your Bible, your dining room table, your coffee table, your computer. As you look at that paper over the next days and weeks, praise Him in the storm.