Sermons for the Month
Becoming Strong in the Desert
DATE: December 12th 2002
SERVICE: Second Sunday In Advent
TEXT: Isaiah 40:1-11To all of you Saints here this morning, grace and peace to you from God our Father, from His Son, Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit. AMEN
It is pretty strange to have an undecorated Christmas (oh, excuse me, I mean Advent) tree in front of us, isn't it? It looks really stark, especially when compared to those we see in the businesses around us. Who ever heard of putting up an undecorated tree? And yet there is something about it that conveys a tone of anticipation. More is coming December 24 is getting closer by the minute but until then this tree reminds us that all is not yet complete. All is not yet complete we live that reality day in and day out. It's all too apparent that our world and the people in it, indeed our own lives, are not what we want them to be. They are like an undecorated Christmas tree, not complete, and yet there is hope. Advent is about hope, which is why the words of Isaiah 40:1-11 are read during this season. "Comfort, O comfort, my people", God tells an unnamed messenger as that beautiful passage begins. "Speak tenderly," God says, and indeed such words must have soothed those who first heard them. You see, they were written for a people who had faced a terrible calamity. The nation of Judah - whose kings had all been descendants of King David - had been overthrown by the Babylonian armies in 587 BC. Jerusalem was destroyed and laid waste and thousands of people were taken, against their wills, to a foreign land across the desert, in what is present-day Baghdad. There they were servants to their captors for nearly 70 years, separated from their families, most never to see each other again. The Old Testament writers make it clear that the destruction and the captivity was punishment - allowed or even ordained by God - for unfaithfulness. Through all those years the idea of returning home was kept alive. They were, afterall, descendants of King David who God had chosen to rule forever. And so it is that these captive people heard the herald crying that their years of servitude are about to end. Indeed, the nation's penalty - which also can be translated sin - has been paid. I must note here that the sense of this phrase is not that the people paid their debt and acquired pardon. Instead, they were a nation that justly deserved punishment, perhaps even more than they had endured, and it was only by God's gracious choice that their suffering was accepted as atonement for their sin. In other words, God said, "It is enough." They were going home. That's what the prophet wants them to understand. These words are intended to keep them from losing hope in God's promise - a promise that, they are reminded endures forever. The armies of Persia - who were viewed as the Lord's instruments - are advancing with might. The way home will be opened up for them. Unfortunately, though, the way home is through the desert. Who knows why they were not directed to go north, the longer and easier way? Have you seen any photos on the news recently of the territory around Baghdad? It is filled with hills, valleys and rough places. The heat is intense in the summer and there is bitter cold in the winter. And yet it is in this wilderness that the way is being prepared. Let me say that again. It is in the wilderness that the way is being prepared. God is returning to them, and no obstacle will prevent God from coming in forgiveness and deliverance. The glory of the Lord, in other words God's presence, will be revealed to them. But, they still have to go home through the desert. So God offers them comfort - not the usual comfort that implies ease and relaxation - but the nearly obsolete understanding of comfort as "to be made strong." (Why Don't You Send Somebody? By Frederick C. Edwards, pg. 18) In the desert they will be made strong. In the desert we are made strong. In the incomplete, stark days of our lives nothing prevents God from coming to us and being present with us. He comes to us as Jesus, who first arrived in the desert wilderness of Palestine, and now is revealed in the wilderness of our lives. And so we pause today - in this awkward time of waiting to celebrate his birth while at the same time waiting for his return - and we see in the undecorated tree the hope that is promised to us even in stark times. Jesus is for us the shepherd, who gathers us in his arms, and carries us in his bosom, and gently leads us. Let me close with a story about waiting. Mildred is waiting. She is sure it is time for the incomplete in her life to be completed, but she's still waiting. During the past 98 years Mildred has known many a desert stroll - both in her own life and in that of her children and grandchildren - and she has been comforted, that is made strong, by the experiences and by her Lord. But, she is firm in her belief that enough is enough. I visited Mildred on Tuesday at St. Luke Lutheran Community in North Canton, where I was pastor for a few years. I had gone down to visit a member of Faith, who was asleep when I arrived, so I made a few other visits first. Mildred's sister Helen motioned me into the room as I walked by; they are life-long Lutherans who have been showered with pastoral care, but I soon found myself sitting at the bedside of this delicate woman who I was told was dying. However, she wasn't dying that afternoon, although it was pretty clear that the wait was getting on her nerves. "Pastor", she said, "What can I do. Why doesn't Jesus come?" Well Mildred, I said with all my spiritual insight, "It's just not time." "Then what can I do?" she asked again. "Why don't you pray and tell the Lord that you are ready?" I suggested. Immediately she said outloud, "God, I'm ready to come." Then she opened one eye and looked suspiciously at me. God didn't come and she didn't go. So, falling back on my extensive training in the intricacies of pastoral care, I suggested that she say the 23rd Psalm with me. I started each verse and she finished it. When we came to the final, " and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever," she opened one eye and said, "Now?" "It's not time Mildred", I said, and then after a prayer bid her farewell with a comment that if I didn't see her again in this life, I'd see her in the next, and she better prepare a warm welcome for me. With a definite twinkle in her eye she said, "What if you get there first?" Indeed, I might. Sometimes the waiting gets old. Sometimes the desert days are just plain overwhelming. Sometimes it seems that the starkness is all there is. Still, look at the tree, its empty braches will soon be decorated in celebration of Jesus' arrival in the desert and we will find comfort - strength - as he journeys with us. In the midst of our captivity there is for us the promise of a homecoming. AMEN