Where the Rays of Heaven’s Sunrise Reach: The Cry That Ended 400 Years of Silence

The house was small, the village smaller, and the night had been long—four centuries long. Then came a cry. Not the cry of the Messiah (not yet), but the cry of a baby born to a barren woman and a doubting priest. And with that cry, the silence of God shattered like dawn over the Judean hills.

Elizabeth’s neighbors expected the child to be named Zechariah Junior. Tradition demanded it. But when the Holy Ghost begins a new thing, He does not ask permission from family custom. “His name is John,” the mother declared. The mute father wrote the same on a tablet, and instantly his tongue sprang free after nine months of divine discipline. The first words out of Zechariah’s mouth were not apology but prophecy: “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for He hath visited and redeemed His people!”

Church, when God names something, the debate is over. He named that child “John”—the LORD is gracious—before he ever drew breath. And He has named every blood-washed believer “redeemed,” “forgiven,” “accepted in the Beloved.” Let no voice of hell, no memory of past failure, no whisper of condemnation dare rename what God has named.

Then came the Benedictus, Zechariah’s Spirit-filled explosion of praise that still thunders through Advent:

“Because of the tender mercy of our God,  

whereby the dayspring from on high hath visited us,  

to give light to them that sit in darkness  

and in the shadow of death,  

to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:78–79)

Dayspring. Sunrise. The first blade of light that cuts the dominion of night. That is what Christmas really is: the moment the rays of heaven’s sunrise finally reach the places long condemned to midnight.

Those rays reached an old priest who once doubted and made him a prophet.  

They reached a barren womb and made it the cradle of the forerunner.  

They reached a stable in Bethlehem and made it the throne room of the King.  

They reached a Roman cross and turned an instrument of torture into the mercy seat of the world.

And right now, by the same tender mercy, those rays are reaching you—your darkness, your shame, your prodigal wanderings, your cold heart.

John’s calling was to preach “the remission of sins.” Not the improvement of sins. Not the management of sins. Total cancellation. Divine amnesia. That is still the only message that flattens mountains and prepares a highway for the coming King.

The night is far spent. The shadows are fleeing. The Dayspring from on high has visited us. Lift up your heads—the Sun of Righteousness is rising with healing in His wings.

DMMC 

12-1-25