No one doubted the prophetic character of Zechariah's oration. This priest had always been a quiet man, not given to mere self-aggrandizing showmanship. All conceded that the Holy Spirit possessed him. The news had an effervescent effect. Smiles appeared. Elation accompanied thoughts of deliverance from Roman rule. Is this child the long-promised Messiah? Then the old man's prophecy took a different turn.

Zechariah spoke with power and certainty. As long as he spoke of God and his mercy, those who heard were attentive. But when the subject turned to personal responsibility for mercy, when it turned to the people themselves, thoughts turned elsewhere. They were wondering what all this had to do with the birth of his son. "What of the child?" they cried.

It did not take much to persuade Zechariah to be taken with his son. He lifted the infant in his arms and held him to his breast. Then he held him at arm's length. Gazing happily at the baby's face he proclaimed,

My son! My little one! You will be called the prophet of the Highest. You will go before him. You will prepare the hearts of the people to receive him. You will reveal the heart of God's mercy in bringing Salvation to deliver us.

In benediction, the old man turned to those standing by and proclaimed,

The Dayspring on high has dawned upon us; to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death; to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Dayspring! Such a magnificent word!

A story is told of a caravan lost in the wilderness of the desert sand. Its constituents, overtaken by the blackness of night, sit down to wait for death. Hopelessness drones through the cold. Helpless hours in darkness; when suddenly their eyes behold a spectacle of matchless beauty. A daystar springs from the eastern horizon and begins its climb toward the heavens. As it does, the sky following it brightens, and the great orb of shining gold takes its first glimpse of a prescient day, bringing illumination and warmth upon the earth. The caravan, encouraged, rises with this Dayspring star, this brilliant antecedent of coming dawn, and goes its way, and over the rise, over the crest of the hill, they find that for which their hearts have longed--Zion, the City of their God.

Without full understanding, Zechariah was telling that his child, his Dayspring, refers not to Jesus Messiah, but to John. He it is who brings the hope of dawn to a people who sit in darkness and the shadow of death. With the rising sun, this lovely morning star is obliterated and is seen no more. Such is the story of our beloved John who himself declared, "He must increase, but I must decrease!"

The old priest turned prophet sat down. "Water!" he muttered. His eyes focused on something distant, on nothing, on everything. He appeared stunned. Someone brought him a cup of water. Zechariah wept.

She sat still in the night. The house quiet. The babe had awakened, cried and then quieted at Elizabeth's swollen breast. All were asleep, except this young, pregnant virgin. Her belly had begun to increase in size, for this was her sixth month. In these quiet hours of very early morning, she thought of Joseph, she thought of her parents, she thought of Nazareth, she thought of her quiet place by the spring and what had happened there. It was time to go home.

The days that followed stretched into years of happiness for Elizabeth and Zechariah. Almost from his birth little John lived and breathed in the ambiance of the Hebrew Scriptures. Since the events surrounding the angelic visitation, Zechariah had become more than zealous in raising his only child as God intended. A razor never touched his hair and it grew until it fell to his waist. John did not grow up as did the other children. As one in preparation to be a Nazirite, from the beginning his differentness alienated him from friends he might otherwise enjoy. He seemed withdrawn and sad to those who didn't know him well. If the truth of the matter be told, he laughed and enjoyed himself more than most. His parents thought him happy and well adjusted. John simply didn't need to be around others as much as other boys needed their peers. Content to draw his companionship from within himself and from his feeling of God's care for him, John's character formed into a pillar of internal rectitude. After his parents died, he left the family home to live a solitary existence in the wilderness of Judea. They would never know how their son came to his grim end at the scheming of Herodias, her daughter Salome and the cowardice of Herod Antipas.