Probably the only part of the book of Zechariah that the average Christian would recognize is the beginning of the passage that is almost always read today, in the context of Palm Sunday, when Jesus enters Jerusalem for the last time, sending his disciples into Jerusalem to pick up a donkey in order to fulfill this very prophecy. The passage is preached on with a backward look, showing that Jesus does indeed fulfill the words of the Old Testament prophets. But as I was working through this book, I kept returning to the conviction that we in the 21st century church are still in very much the same position as the returned exiles Zechariah was preaching to some 2500 years ago - even though Jesus has come and the prophecy has been fulfilled. Because at the time Jesus entered into Jerusalem the prophecy was also looking forward.
Let me explain what I mean.
When Zechariah first said these words, the prophets’ declaration that God would let Jerusalem be destroyed for the sins of the people had been fulfilled. The prophecy of redemption and return from exile had also been fulfilled. And yet the promised king had not come, and the mountains were not running with honey and sweet wine, and swords had not been turned into plowshares. The local inhabitants were hostile at best, and so the struggling community of returned exiles was confused and disappointed and not sure what it all meant. They did not find it at all easy to maintain their enthusiasm for rebuilding the temple and the city when things weren’t turning out like they had expected.
And so, when Jesus mounted that donkey, the people expected the things they had been waiting for – for what was it, four hundred+ years now? - to really happen this time. Like now.
But it didn’t. And within a generation or so, just like the returned exiles in Zechariah’s time, the new Christians in Jerusalem and Corinth and Rome become confused and even despondent when Christ didn’t reappear as soon as they thought he would. Many began to doubt and question the truth of the Gospel when persecutions began and the young church had to fight for its very existence. This is why Paul and John and Peter had to write so strongly to encourage the young churches, reminding them that Jesus had told them that no one but God knew the time of his return, that they would indeed suffer, and that remaining faithful would take real commitment.
Every generation of the church has had to wrestle with how to interpret prophecy, how to deal with Christ’s delay, and how to fit current events into both. Or even if we should.
My view, along with most evangelical scholars, is that prophecy usually has three layers: it points to some future time within history, it points to the end of time, and it also has an eternal truth in the present.
Let me explain what I mean. Clearly Zechariah 9:9 points to the time when Christ entered Jerusalem, riding on a donkey, hailed as Messiah and King.
"Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey."
But what about verse 10?
"He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the war-horse from Jerusalem; and the battle bow shall be cut off, and he shall command peace to the nations; his dominion shall be from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth."
What does that mean?
Well, Ephraim is shorthand for the Northern kingdom of Israel, the one that was wiped out by the Assyrians a hundred and fifty years before Jerusalem fell to the Babylonians. So it seems that what is being said here is that God is going to disband the Jewish armies. Does that mean unilateral disarmament, and being eaten alive by the enemies surrounding them? It’s awfully tempting to look at it that way, since that is what happened.
But what about commanding peace to the nations? If God has commanded it, why hasn’t it happened? It seems like an awfully long time to wait, between the first and second half of the same verse. Clearly, then, this part must mean the end times, when Christ’s reign will mean universal peace. But then comes verse 11:
"As for you also, because of the blood of my covenant with you, I will set your prisoners free from the waterless pit."
That seems to be a pretty obvious reference to the new covenant, the one bought with Christ’s blood; the only other places language like that is used is by Moses in Exodus and by Jesus at the last supper, and the waterless pit is always a reference to spiritual hunger.
So the timeline is very confused. Past time, end time, current time…
And then all of a sudden there is a complete turnaround! God is sending his people back into their fortress and re-arming them for battle, this time against Greece, which didn’t become a threat until Alexander the Great, a couple of hundred years later. What is going on here?
Well, we could go through this verse by verse and struggle through the layers of meaning together, but unless you want to stick around for another couple of hours I’d better cut to the chase. I think this whole passage, if you look at it in broad outline, can be read as a metaphor for the Christian life.
Let me explain. The progression is as follows:
1. A beginning that is both humble and triumphant.
2. A renunciation of violence by order of the king.
3. Spiritual renewal bought by blood.
4. And then a return to the fight, but on different terms.
Becoming a Christian isn’t something that happens by force. Not real conversion. Jesus doesn’t bring an army with a battering ram; he stands at the door and knocks. The humble yet triumphant arrival echoes not only Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, but also his entry into this world that long ago Christmas night and his taking up residence within us. It is a silent, invisible event - and yet for those of us with eyes to see and ears to hear, it is an earthshaking, life-changing, jubilant event that deserves bells and trumpets and banner headlines.
But along with that invisible, internal change comes a real change in outward behavior. Because we are commanded to disarm. Like Christ, we are to put away force and violence. Our way of being in the world is to be one of peace-making, not of vengeance, of coercion, of force. I’m not talking about pacifism on the national level, mind you, that’s another discussion, but interpersonal relations.
This is possible only because of the Holy Spirit, who lives in us as a continual source of spiritual renewal and refreshment because of our acceptance of Christ’s sacrifice for us. When we partook of the bread and the cup last week, we confirmed the blood relationship that exists between Christ and ourselves, we recognize that we are no longer prisoners of sin, and live by faith according to his example.
Having done that, though, our real work begins. Because, paradoxically, the prince of peace brings war. It is not a war of our seeking. But Christ is such a threat to people who want to be their own gods, to governments who do not want to be accountable to the God who appointed them to their positions, that they cannot help but turn and attack.
And that is what is meant by returning to the stronghold. The church is not only a place where we come for R&R, for rest and renewal; it is also the armory, the arsenal, where we come to get our armor repaired and our spears sharpened. It is the place from which God launches his spiritual army for conquering the world.
"For I have bent Judah as my bow; I have made Ephraim its arrow. I will arouse your sons, O Zion, against your sons, O Greece, and wield you like a warrior's sword."
We don’t HAVE bows and arrows, my friends, we ARE bows and arrows in the hand of God. The sons of Zion are the men and women of the covenant; the sons of Greece are the pagans, the secularizers, the enemies of faith. And they are fierce. During Zechariah’s time Alexander the Great hadn’t appeared yet, but within a hundred years he would wipe Persia off the map and replace it with a new empire. How could this little group of returned exiles be expected to stand up against them?
Because if they did - when they did - God would be with them. Because it’s not about “enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” [Eph 6:12]
And when you and I stand up for what we believe, even in the face of ridicule, “then YHWH [God] will appear over [us] and his arrow [will] go forth like lightning...” [v. 14] Paul tells us that the sword of the Spirit is the word of God, and Hebrews tells us that the word of God is sharper than a two-edged sword. If we protect ourselves as Paul advises us, with faith and righteousness and truth, and arm ourselves with a solid knowledge of God’s word, on that day - the day we stand up for him – “YHWH [our] God will save [us] for [we] are the flock of his people; for like the jewels of a crown [we] shall shine on his land.”
Make no mistake about it, as followers of Christ we are to be people of peace. But it will not be truly ours unless we realize that we are also at war.
