Sermon:
December 15, 2002
Sunday Night Alive!  

Scripture:
Isaiah 61:1-4  
Isaiah 61:8-11

Before the scripture reading this evening, I want to share something exciting that happened in our house. I know God has the tendency to break into our everyday lives, opening us to seeing something that we just never noticed before. Time and time again it happens, but it’s still amazing. 

We have a nativity set that we keep on the kitchen table. It’s not an expensive set, made simply of painted resin, but it has Jesus and “the family,” as our three-year-olds call them. Baby Jesus, Mary his mother, Joseph his father (there will be plenty of time to work out the theology on that one). There are two wise men and a shepherd. It’s simple. 

Every day the figures are rearranged. They get moved this way and that. One evening I was told they were all sleeping and found them lying down side by side. Then last week it happened. I was sitting at the table, early in the morning, munching on a bowl of cereal. I looked at the figures and noticed, for the first time, that their eyes were all painted looking the same direction. All of them were looking up. I’d always assumed they were looking down at the baby Jesus. “Oh, look at the cute little baby.” But they weren’t. They were all facing different directions—looking up—as if they were saying, “Where is it coming from?” 

I can remember, as a boy, playing in the yard with neighbors and hearing the thunder of a jet high over head. We would stop and look into the sky, straining to see if we could find it. We could hear it. We knew it was there. But where was it coming from? 

The people of Israel have been in the fields working. It is the time of the exile. Torn from their homes, they experience the brutality of being servants in a strange land. No hope, no joy and no vision of the future save what they see in the row, the mill floor, the brick maker’s task before them. And that kind of future sure isn’t much. 

But then, like a distant rumble, the voice of the prophet is heard. A voice in the darkness, telling of one to come. The Servant-Messiah whom God would choose and empower to deliver his people. 

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me;

he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,

to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

and release to the prisoners;

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,

and the day of vengeance of our God;

to comfort all who mourn;

to provide for those who mourn in Zion—

to give them a garland instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.

They shall build up the ancient ruins,

they shall raise up the former devastations;

they shall repair the ruined cities,

the devastations of many generations.

For I the Lord love justice,

I hate robbery and wrongdoing;

I will faithfully give them their recompense,

and I will make an everlasting covenant with them.

Their descendants shall be known among the nations,

and their offspring among the peoples;

all who see them shall acknowledge

that they are a people whom the Lord has blessed.

I will greatly rejoice in the Lord,

any whole being shall exult in my God;

for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation,

he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,

as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,

and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

For as the earth brings forth its shoots,

and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up,

so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise

to spring up before all the nations.

                   (Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11, The Message) 

In seven years of ministry (I confess, that’s not really all that long), I’ve officiated at some 45 weddings. Some have been in sanctuaries large and small, others in reception halls or outdoors. A few have been in the family living room. One was even in the rain. In all that time, mothers have wept, brides have wept, fathers have wept, grooms have wept. Sometimes it seems like everyone is crying. But the tears have never been tears of sorrow. No one ever says, “Oh, why is she (or why is he) doing this?” The moment simply draws us in, and there are tears of joy. The longing that two share down deep in their souls—the longing to share their lives with another, together—is being fulfilled. 

It’s that kind of longing and promised fulfillment that the prophet speaks of here. The day of the Lord, when there would be no more sorrow, pain or grief. The day when, like a groom wearing a marriage garland or a bride in her jewels, we too are filled with the joy of the Lord. A day when we will be clothed in the garments of salvation. 

The day is coming. God is doing something. The anointed one is on his way! Things will be different! 

The idealist in us says, “Oh yes! Bring it on, Lord! Yes, Lord…Yes, Lord…Yes, Yes, Lord… rock this world!” But I must admit there’s a voice within me (maybe you know it, too) that says,  “But, please, don’t rock it too hard.” Lord I want to look up and see you. I want you to break into my world. But don’t come too close.   I want you way up in the sky, like an airplane. If you come down here, it will be too much. What you talk about scares me. I’ve grown up believing I’ve got to be good and do all the right things for you to love me. I won’t know what to do if you love me first, imperfections and all. It’s not supposed to work that way.                                                 

But indeed, God tells us He does work that way, that that’s the way of his Kingdom. We can never be so good that God could loves us any more, and we can never be so bad that He could love us any less. 

In the ancient Near East, it was customary following the coronation of a new king that a proclamation would be made that all those who were in the debtor’s prison could go free. In a real sense, Isaiah’s servant is telling about the coming of a new king—a new kingdom being established with joy—where there would be no debt to be paid. Where there would be 

Good news for the oppressed,
Healing for the brokenhearted,
Liberty for the captives,
Release for the prisoners,
Comfort for those who mourn,
And joy for God’s people.

More often than not, God’s promise comes through in little ways, ways we never expect. Like noticing little figures looking up into the sky, turning a groggy morning into a morning of wonder. 

Is something really coming? Could it be true? God, right here? Yes, coming and here—every day—if we are ready to see him. 

Thanks be to God. Amen.