Sermon given at St. Stephen's, Harrisburg.
Good morning!! Well, here we are, the 4th week of Advent, the 4th week of year B in our cycle. Year B is supposed to focus on the book of Mark, but last week we read from John’s Gospel, and this week the Annunciation story from the Gospel according to St. Luke, and just to make sure we don’t miss any of the 4 gospels I’m also going to talk about a section of Matthew’s gospel. Got ‘em all covered!
But let’s start by looking at today’s gospel. This takes place of course in a town called Nazareth, in the region of Galilee. Now Galilee was not at all a respected region—in today’s politically incorrect language, we’d probably think it’s redneck country—hardly the place for one chosen—or sent—by God. But that’s how God works, isn’t it. Rarely in the ways we’d expect.
And an angel named Gabriel came from heaven and appeared to Mary, a young girl, probably about 12 or 13 years old. She was engaged to Joseph, having been pledged to him sometime within the last year—an engagement that was as binding as a wedding. The angel spoke to Mary, saying, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you!” I’m sure Mary was amazed and even frightened, first at the appearance of an angel of the Lord. They are not some kind of wimpy cherub-like beings with clouds and harps, but God’s army—strong warriors, impressive to behold. And she also had to be troubled at his words—What kind of greeting was that? What could it mean? And the Angel said, don’t be afraid Mary. You have found favor with God—she’s the object of God’s grace. He continued by telling her she would conceive in and bear a son, and she was to name him Jesus—Yeshua. This was not an uncommon name. And like most all Hebrew names it has a meaning. Yeshua means the Lord is Salvation.
The angel continues by telling of the greatness of this child, the son of Mary—he will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end. What an amazing announcement—all these referring to Old Testament promises and prophesies.
This promise involves the sonship promise of the Old Testament spoken about a son of David, that God would be his father (2 Sam. 7:6-16). As Son of the Most High, Jesus takes on a special relationship to God as the representative of the divine promise on earth. Once his kingdom is established, it will never end. The one who always was king will set up a kingdom where the presence of his authority and the benefits of salvation are distributed to those who ally themselves to him (Luke 1:67-79). This child will be both “Son of the Most High” and the “son of God.”[1]
And the gospels, the New Testament, explain what this means. But for now it’s important to understand that this Jesus will be a royal figure chosen by God. His human origins—the conception and birth of this child—are far from ordinary. His birth will be truly unique, born of a virgin, Mary understand what the angel is saying, but wonders how it can be that she will have a child when she has never been with a man. But with God all things are possible. God who created the universe, the sun and moon and stars, who created the earth, who separated light from darkness, and created Adam out of the dirt he had made, this same God will work his creative might by sending his Holy Spirit to Mary and she will conceive—so that the child will be holy, the Son of God.
And this is why Mary is highly favored, chosen by God’s grace to give birth to the Savior of the world—remember, Jesus, Yeshua, means God is salvation. Mary is chosen, not because of anything she has done, not because of her merit or worth, but simply because she is the vessel chosen by God for this amazing and gracious inbreaking of God. Emmanuel—God with us.
As a sign to mary that this will occur, the angel tells he that her elderly and childless cousin Elizabeth has conceived in her old age—and that she will bear a child too—again, because nothing is impossible with God.
Mary’s response is willing obedience and great character. “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”
This can’t have been easy for her. “She is being asked to bear a child as a virgin without being married. In standing up for God and his power, she will probably become the object of much doubt and ridicule.”[2] Or worse—the penalty for adultery was at the very least to be disowned by her family and cast out of her village, and at most, death by stoning. But knowing she is God’s child Mary will allow God to work through her. While he may be placing her in difficult circumstances, Mary is assured that God will be with her every step of the way.
With her reputation and even her betrothal at stake, Mary becomes one in a long, long line of questionable characters, as we will see in the geneology of Jesus as found in Matthew’s Gospel. I’m not going to read the whole thing, but you have it in front of you.
Matthew’s gospel begins with “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.” Now Abraham was chosen by God to be the forefather of his chosen people—again not because of anything Abraham did or didn’t do, except he believed God—mostly. But Abraham wasn’t perfect. When his wife didn’t conceive the promised child, he went to his wife’s servant and produced and heir. And other times he tried to pass of his wife as his sister—not very honest. But the genealogy says that Abraham was father of Isaac—no mention of Ishmael. And Isaac was the father of Jacob—Jacob who stole the birthright and blessing of his deserving elder brother Esau. Jacob was the father of Judah—why Judah and not the great Joseph? Joseph, sold into slavery, imprisoned in Egypt, but became the salvation of his family during times of drought.
Interesting how God uses men who sell their brother into slavery, who lie their way into prominence. And what about David who had an affair with Bathsheba, and then had her husband killed—David who was a man after God’s heart nonetheless. And Matthew’s genealogy includes five women—and not very reputable women at that. Not the wives of the patriarchs, not Sarah or Rebecca or Rachel, but Tamar, a Canaanite. Tamar who dressed as a prostitute and seduced her father in law in order to have a son. Rahab, another Canaanite woman and a true prostitute. And Ruth the Moabite. And Bathsheba, the mother of King Solomon by David, is mentioned only as the wife of Uriah who David killed. And finally Mary, the mother of Jesus though a rather unconventional pregnancy.
But Jesus came for those who were troubled, for the prostitutes and lepers, sinners and tax collectors. Those who didn’t find favor with other men found favor with Jesus. The genealogy demonstrates that Jesus’ ancestors include many questionable characters—an equal opportunity ministry. And then there’s the last 14 generations between the exile and the birth of Christ—all unknown to us! All ordinary men—used by God as the human ancestors of Jesus. These people were not the stars, were not extraordinarily good or kind or honest. Some were betrayers and outcasts and liars; all were combinations of sinner and saint. Many were obscure and unknown—like us. Ordinary people living ordinary lives, used by God in an utterly extraordinary way. If God can use all of these people, all 42 generations from Abraham to Jesus, we can be assured that he can—and will—use us, with our flaws and our talents. If we could see a bigger picture, we might be amazed and astounded—like Mary—at how God is using us to fulfill some great purpose. May we be willing to be instruments for God’s work in the world. With Mary we will say “Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”
[1] Bock, Darrell L. The NIV Application Commentary: Luke. Zondervan, p. 57
[2] Ibid, 58.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Year B, 3 Advent
Again, I apologize for the gap in posting, computer problems for a while (had to get a new moniter) and then it just seemed like quite a task. I'll do my best to catch up.
This sermon was given at St. Andrews in Carbondale.
As I’m sure you know, the lectionary we use for our Sunday lessons is a 3 year cycle. Year A, focused on the Gospel according to Matthew, just ended and we are now in Church Year B, and most of our gospel readings come from the Gospel according to Mark. Year C, the 3rd year of the cycle, focuses on the Gospel according to Luke—and the Gospel of John is sprinkled among the three.
If you read the 4 gospels, it is clear that one of these 4 things is not like the others. John seems to have a different language almost. From the prologue (you know, “in the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the Word was God) to his parables its’ a different animal. There are many stories in John that don’t appear in the others—the Synoptic gospels—like the Miracle at the Wedding in Caana, to the story of the Samaritan woman, to the woman caught in adultery (whoever is without sin cast the first stone).
It’s from the Gospel of John that we believe Jesus’ public ministry lasted about 3 years, from about year 27 to 30, because it mentions 3 Passover feasts. Mark’s gospel was the first to be written, probably around the year 70. And John’s gospel was probably the last of the four to be written, and it presumes knowledge of the others—evidenced by the remark in today’s gospel “John, of course, had not yet been thrown into prison.” John was probably written by year 100—the author had many more years to reflect on Jesus’ mission and ministry, to develop the theology which is more present in this gospel.
The Gospel of John is my favorite—so I’m always glad to see it pop up in the lectionary.
But sometimes the lectionary reading doesn’t start where I think it should—and so I’d like to back up a verse. Verse 22 says “Jesus and his disciples went into the Judean countryside, and he spent some time there with them and baptized.” The Gospel of John presents the only evidence that Jesus—or his disciples—baptized, though in chapter 4 it is clarified that it was his disciples who were baptizing, presumably with Jesus’ authorization. Probably a good thing that Jesus himself wasn’t baptizing—can you imagine the elitism that might have resulted in being baptized by Jesus? And in our gospel—John the Baptist was also baptizing—they seemed to be working the same area, perhaps even working together.
A dispute broke out between one of the Baptists followers and another man. We don’t know what the nature of the disagreement was—though it probably had to do with baptism. Perhaps it was a question by someone from the Jewish leadership regarding the nature of John’s baptism. Baptism was common for gentiles converting to Judaism, but Jews weren’t routinely baptized, though ceremonial washings for purification were common. Perhaps they thought that baptism for Jews didn’t make sense—and why is this man baptizing?
In any event, the fact of Jesus’ followers also baptizing must have come up, and the issue regarding the nature of baptism loses importance in light of the perceived threat presented by Jesus’ growing popularity. John’s followers seem to be more than a little jealous, even though they were witnesses of John’s testimony concerning Jesus—Jesus who received the Spirit, Jesus, the Lamb of God. Jesus, the coming one. John’s followers though don’t even mention Jesus by name. “Rabbi, the one who was with you across the Jordon, to whom you testified, here he is baptizing, and all are going to him.” They aren’t too happy about this situation, and resent Jesus’ increasing fame.
John the Baptist’s response is meant as a corrective. “No one can receive anything except what has been given from heaven.” If Jesus has received more followers’ then they were given from heaven, from God. In fact, all of life is a gift, all is grace, all is from God. As such, Jesus should not be criticized. After all, John reminds them that he had said “I am not the Messiah, but I have been sent ahead of him.” He is like the best man at the wedding—sharing in the bridegroom’s joy. The best man rejoices in his friend’s happiness. The Baptist concludes, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” John knows his role is to be 2nd fiddle, to point to Jesus. He has even encouraged his disciples to follow Jesus. “He must increase, but I must increase.” While “the Baptist continued to have a following . . . it is probably part of John the Evangelist’s purpose to set straight followers of the Baptist in his own day.”[1]
“John [the Baptist is] a model of humility. . . . He is completely self-emptied, being defined solely in terms of Jesus. His example of humility is expressed most memorably here: He must become greater; I must become less. . . .John’s joy is in fulfilling God’s will for his life—a model of Christian discipleship.”[2]
So where do we find our joy? Is joy a word that characterizes us? Sadly, I’m not sure that all too many Christians would be characterized that way. Certainly there seems to be an absence of joy in our world, as well as a shortage of commitment, constancy, patience and perseverance—and an overwhelming interest in self-esteem, self-assertiveness, self-enhancement, and self-realization. Do you hear a theme here? Is there a connection between our obsession with self—and our absence of joy? Perhaps!
I think sometimes it’s a good idea to reflect on the lives of the saints—big S or small S. We can get a different perspective on things. So today I’d like to introduce you to Charles Simeon.
Charles was born in 1756 in England, and apparently his mother died when he was very young. His father was a wealthy attorney, but not a Christian. When Charles was 7 he was sent to The Royal College of Eton, the best boarding school. He was known for his fancy dress, athleticism, and his tendency to be a show off. Charles was also rather homely. He did receive a good education, and at 19 he went to Cambridge. In those days Cambridge was not a Christian place, except perhaps in form, and early on he was required to attend the Lord’s Supper. And he was frightened, somehow knowing that he was unworthy. He tried to repent, but got nowhere, really, except that he made it through his first communion. He continued to study and search, and during Holy Week he read something that made him realize that he could cast his sins on Jesus—that God had provided a sin offering for him. By Easter he was filled with joy, knowing he was right with God and that Jesus his savior.
Without any outside support, he became a zealous Christian. He was ordained as a deacon in the Church in 1782, and later that year he became vicar of St. Edwards Church in Cambridge when their previous vicar died. He was pastor there for 54 years!! He had a great impact on many students passing through the University, and was very involved with the growing missionary movement growing in England. And he preached—he presented 21 volumes of his collected sermons to the King in 1833, 3 years before he died.
But Simeon’s life was far from easy. The people in St Edward’s Church didn’t want him—they wanted the assistant curate to be the new vicar and opposed him at every turn. For 12 years he was not allowed to preach a Sunday evening service—they hired an assistant to keep him out. And Sunday mornings weren’t much better. Those were the days when people “owned” their pews, and they were cubicles that locked. The parishioners locked the pews and didn’t show up. When Charles set up seats in the aisles, they threw them out! When he went to visit, doors rarely opened. For 12 years, he persevered in his service through word and prayer and community involvement, and finally, finally the congregation came around.
For a while. In 1812, after he had been there over 30 years, he again hit a rocky spell—one might think it was time to move on. But he stayed and worked through it, and in 1816 the church was filled with peace.
Talk about a tough situation!! I’m not sure there are many today who would persevere through all that!! I’m not sure I would! But Charles had a few things going for him. He had a strong sense of accountability to God for his charge, for his church. He spent many hours in prayer and study. He was involved with the community. He knew he was commissioned, not by the people, but by the Lord. His preaching was never accusative, but grounded in scripture. He lived a modest lifestyle, and was ever optimistic—at least in public. If he suffered, it was for the privilege of bearing the cross with Christ. And he imitated John the Baptist—it was his chief aim to grow downward in humility and upward in adoring communion with God. His adoration grew as he searched out and understood his own sinfulness. He sought to be “not only humbled and thankful, but humbled in thankfulness before God and his Savior”. He served and preached until 2 months before he died at the age of 77, in 1836, a remarkable example of persistence, patience and perseverance.
Echoing the Baptist, I pray that Christ will increase in us while we decrease. And like Charles Simeon, May we grow downward in humility and upward in adoration of our Lord and Savior, that our Joy may be full. Amen.
[1] Whitacre, Rodney. The IVP New Testament Commentary Series: John. Intervarsity Press, 1999, p. 96.
[2] Ibid, 97.
This sermon was given at St. Andrews in Carbondale.
As I’m sure you know, the lectionary we use for our Sunday lessons is a 3 year cycle. Year A, focused on the Gospel according to Matthew, just ended and we are now in Church Year B, and most of our gospel readings come from the Gospel according to Mark. Year C, the 3rd year of the cycle, focuses on the Gospel according to Luke—and the Gospel of John is sprinkled among the three.
If you read the 4 gospels, it is clear that one of these 4 things is not like the others. John seems to have a different language almost. From the prologue (you know, “in the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the Word was God) to his parables its’ a different animal. There are many stories in John that don’t appear in the others—the Synoptic gospels—like the Miracle at the Wedding in Caana, to the story of the Samaritan woman, to the woman caught in adultery (whoever is without sin cast the first stone).
It’s from the Gospel of John that we believe Jesus’ public ministry lasted about 3 years, from about year 27 to 30, because it mentions 3 Passover feasts. Mark’s gospel was the first to be written, probably around the year 70. And John’s gospel was probably the last of the four to be written, and it presumes knowledge of the others—evidenced by the remark in today’s gospel “John, of course, had not yet been thrown into prison.” John was probably written by year 100—the author had many more years to reflect on Jesus’ mission and ministry, to develop the theology which is more present in this gospel.
The Gospel of John is my favorite—so I’m always glad to see it pop up in the lectionary.
But sometimes the lectionary reading doesn’t start where I think it should—and so I’d like to back up a verse. Verse 22 says “Jesus and his disciples went into the Judean countryside, and he spent some time there with them and baptized.” The Gospel of John presents the only evidence that Jesus—or his disciples—baptized, though in chapter 4 it is clarified that it was his disciples who were baptizing, presumably with Jesus’ authorization. Probably a good thing that Jesus himself wasn’t baptizing—can you imagine the elitism that might have resulted in being baptized by Jesus? And in our gospel—John the Baptist was also baptizing—they seemed to be working the same area, perhaps even working together.
A dispute broke out between one of the Baptists followers and another man. We don’t know what the nature of the disagreement was—though it probably had to do with baptism. Perhaps it was a question by someone from the Jewish leadership regarding the nature of John’s baptism. Baptism was common for gentiles converting to Judaism, but Jews weren’t routinely baptized, though ceremonial washings for purification were common. Perhaps they thought that baptism for Jews didn’t make sense—and why is this man baptizing?
In any event, the fact of Jesus’ followers also baptizing must have come up, and the issue regarding the nature of baptism loses importance in light of the perceived threat presented by Jesus’ growing popularity. John’s followers seem to be more than a little jealous, even though they were witnesses of John’s testimony concerning Jesus—Jesus who received the Spirit, Jesus, the Lamb of God. Jesus, the coming one. John’s followers though don’t even mention Jesus by name. “Rabbi, the one who was with you across the Jordon, to whom you testified, here he is baptizing, and all are going to him.” They aren’t too happy about this situation, and resent Jesus’ increasing fame.
John the Baptist’s response is meant as a corrective. “No one can receive anything except what has been given from heaven.” If Jesus has received more followers’ then they were given from heaven, from God. In fact, all of life is a gift, all is grace, all is from God. As such, Jesus should not be criticized. After all, John reminds them that he had said “I am not the Messiah, but I have been sent ahead of him.” He is like the best man at the wedding—sharing in the bridegroom’s joy. The best man rejoices in his friend’s happiness. The Baptist concludes, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” John knows his role is to be 2nd fiddle, to point to Jesus. He has even encouraged his disciples to follow Jesus. “He must increase, but I must increase.” While “the Baptist continued to have a following . . . it is probably part of John the Evangelist’s purpose to set straight followers of the Baptist in his own day.”[1]
“John [the Baptist is] a model of humility. . . . He is completely self-emptied, being defined solely in terms of Jesus. His example of humility is expressed most memorably here: He must become greater; I must become less. . . .John’s joy is in fulfilling God’s will for his life—a model of Christian discipleship.”[2]
So where do we find our joy? Is joy a word that characterizes us? Sadly, I’m not sure that all too many Christians would be characterized that way. Certainly there seems to be an absence of joy in our world, as well as a shortage of commitment, constancy, patience and perseverance—and an overwhelming interest in self-esteem, self-assertiveness, self-enhancement, and self-realization. Do you hear a theme here? Is there a connection between our obsession with self—and our absence of joy? Perhaps!
I think sometimes it’s a good idea to reflect on the lives of the saints—big S or small S. We can get a different perspective on things. So today I’d like to introduce you to Charles Simeon.
Charles was born in 1756 in England, and apparently his mother died when he was very young. His father was a wealthy attorney, but not a Christian. When Charles was 7 he was sent to The Royal College of Eton, the best boarding school. He was known for his fancy dress, athleticism, and his tendency to be a show off. Charles was also rather homely. He did receive a good education, and at 19 he went to Cambridge. In those days Cambridge was not a Christian place, except perhaps in form, and early on he was required to attend the Lord’s Supper. And he was frightened, somehow knowing that he was unworthy. He tried to repent, but got nowhere, really, except that he made it through his first communion. He continued to study and search, and during Holy Week he read something that made him realize that he could cast his sins on Jesus—that God had provided a sin offering for him. By Easter he was filled with joy, knowing he was right with God and that Jesus his savior.
Without any outside support, he became a zealous Christian. He was ordained as a deacon in the Church in 1782, and later that year he became vicar of St. Edwards Church in Cambridge when their previous vicar died. He was pastor there for 54 years!! He had a great impact on many students passing through the University, and was very involved with the growing missionary movement growing in England. And he preached—he presented 21 volumes of his collected sermons to the King in 1833, 3 years before he died.
But Simeon’s life was far from easy. The people in St Edward’s Church didn’t want him—they wanted the assistant curate to be the new vicar and opposed him at every turn. For 12 years he was not allowed to preach a Sunday evening service—they hired an assistant to keep him out. And Sunday mornings weren’t much better. Those were the days when people “owned” their pews, and they were cubicles that locked. The parishioners locked the pews and didn’t show up. When Charles set up seats in the aisles, they threw them out! When he went to visit, doors rarely opened. For 12 years, he persevered in his service through word and prayer and community involvement, and finally, finally the congregation came around.
For a while. In 1812, after he had been there over 30 years, he again hit a rocky spell—one might think it was time to move on. But he stayed and worked through it, and in 1816 the church was filled with peace.
Talk about a tough situation!! I’m not sure there are many today who would persevere through all that!! I’m not sure I would! But Charles had a few things going for him. He had a strong sense of accountability to God for his charge, for his church. He spent many hours in prayer and study. He was involved with the community. He knew he was commissioned, not by the people, but by the Lord. His preaching was never accusative, but grounded in scripture. He lived a modest lifestyle, and was ever optimistic—at least in public. If he suffered, it was for the privilege of bearing the cross with Christ. And he imitated John the Baptist—it was his chief aim to grow downward in humility and upward in adoring communion with God. His adoration grew as he searched out and understood his own sinfulness. He sought to be “not only humbled and thankful, but humbled in thankfulness before God and his Savior”. He served and preached until 2 months before he died at the age of 77, in 1836, a remarkable example of persistence, patience and perseverance.
Echoing the Baptist, I pray that Christ will increase in us while we decrease. And like Charles Simeon, May we grow downward in humility and upward in adoration of our Lord and Savior, that our Joy may be full. Amen.
[1] Whitacre, Rodney. The IVP New Testament Commentary Series: John. Intervarsity Press, 1999, p. 96.
[2] Ibid, 97.
Year B, Advent 2.
Sorry for the long gap between postings, had computer troubles and got behind.
Following is my Sermon from 2 Advent, Dec. 7th, given at St. Mark's and St. James.
We are well into December, heading towards Christmas, a season of joy and light. The hustle and bustle of the holidays energizes us. And there’s some Christmas song that talks of this being the hap=happiest season of all! Joy to the World!!
And yet perhaps the continuous Christmas music we are bombarded with in the stores and the malls feels a bit artificial. Maybe we don’t really feel this great joy and happiness. Maybe we’ve got the blaahs. Tired of winter—and it’s not even here yet. Or perhaps we are discouraged that we can’t do—or buy—everything we want to this year, and we are struggling just to get by, just to make it. Perhaps our retirement nest egg has shrunk considerably. Perhaps we are dealing with loss—of a relationship, of a loved one. And maybe, just maybe we are discouraged about our church. Things just aren’t going as well as we wish they were. Some of us are feeling helpless, hopeless.
And it’s to people like us that Isaiah wrote, to people who have lost hope. Everything they feared has happened. Their nation fell to Babylon, the great Temple had been destroyed, and God had let them down. To make things worse, the Israelites had been prisoners in Babylon for some 40 years. They probably thought that their future held nothing but regret and disappointment. “Yes, God may have acted in the past, for other people, but this situation is beyond him. It is beyond his compassion . . . and beyond his power.”[1] But the time of discipline is over and now it’s time for comfort. Yes, they have been crushed under the weight of their sins and troubles. They feel all is lost and God has abandoned them, but the message of Isaiah is that this is not so. The punishment is over and God speaks words of hope.
God speaks not of judgment or punishment but of comfort. “Comfort, Comfort my people,” says your God. Comfort, comfort!! Urgently comfort! You are my people, and I am your God!! Speak tenderly, like a mother soothing her child, you have served your punishment.
And a voice cries out “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”
There is a highway in the desert—for God. The people who heard Isaiah expected God to come to helpless Israel to set her free. And nothing can prevent his swift coming to his people’s aid, neither mountains nor valleys. The highway will be level and straight, so that God can come quickly. If there is to be deliverance and salvation for God’s people—for all people, it must be from God’s direct intervention. There was and is no other hope.
There is no other hope, because all flesh is like grass. There is no permanence in flesh, there is nothing they can do to help themselves. There is nothing permanent about humanity, for all flesh is like grass, withering and dying, but if God speaks, he will do what he promises. Nothing on earth can prevent God from fulfilling his promises.
And that is the good news, glad tidings. Israel, Jerusalem, Zion are not just recipients of God’s grace, but are messengers of grace to the world. God will intervene. He will break the power of evil with his strong arm, and like a shepherd he will gently gather the lambs in his arms, and gently lead his sheep.
God acts in time and in history, and about 700 years later, there’s another voice. Mark writes, The Beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
This way leads us to the desert, This way leads to a wild prophet in the wilderness, a man named John. This prophet of God reminds us of the Old Testament prophets— Mark quotes our Isaiah passage, and John prepares the way by leveling the ground and calling all Israel to repentance.
All four gospels prominently discuss John the Baptist as the predecessor of Jesus, the one who prepares the way. Luke places the setting in time and in history. This should not be surprising—God works in human history! The whole bible tells of his involvement in human history.
In a complex setting the Word of God came to John, just as in years past the Word of the Lord came to Abraham, Samuel, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and other prophets. This is the sign of a prophet. And John was in the wilderness, the desert. In Israel’s history, the desert was an important place. The desert was where Israel first encountered God and faithfully responded to Him. The law was given in the Desert of Sinai, the prophets went to the desert to commune with God, and the Israelites spent 40 years in the desert—before they crossed the Jordon River into the Promised Land. And now we find John at the Jordan.
John preaches a baptism for repentance and forgiveness of sins. This baptism is unprecedented. This was a call to prepare for the arrival of salvation, a one-time baptism in honor of the arrival of salvation—for all people! Revolutionary! What was radical was not forgiveness of sins, but that he, John, offered baptism as a means of obtaining it! The religious leadership would have said that rites for forgiveness belonged to the temple and the priests. And then John calls Israel to repent. The Greek word for repentance means most commonly a change of mind. But the Hebrew concept of repentance is the idea of turning—turning toward God!! To be prepared for God’s salvation, one must turn away from sin and self, and turn to God. One must be open to hear and receive his message. One must turn to God and have faith in Christ in order to have hope.
John’s way was not mainstream. To go out to someone like this in the desert required a break with the institution and culture of Jerusalem and the traditions of Judaism. It was not an easy path! Those who responded to John’s call were heeding the call to prepare for the arrival of salvation—the arrival of the One for whom John was preparing the way!
Their hope was for the Messiah, and this is our hope, too. The hope of Israel and the hope of the Church is Jesus. And God who acted in time and history by sending his Son, is willing and able to act in our time to comfort us and to change our circumstances. We are called to “a life of faith in God, a life where we truly release ourselves into his hands without any reservation, a life where we are constantly giving ourselves and our concerns into the caring Creator’s hands.”[2]
800 years earlier, Israel didn’t trust in God but in other nations, and that led to their capture and exile in Babylon. But when they cried out to God, he spoke tenderly, with words of comfort and hope. They heard him in new ways, ways that changed their thinking.
“That is what we need too. We need lives of faith that are shaped by the Word of God, its view of reality, and the principles that emerge from it. If I cannot ‘believe’ God and ‘hope’ in him in the sense of surrendering my life to him . . . then his power cannot transform me. But if I will actively believe his Word, there really are no limits to what he can do for me, for my family, for my society.”[3]
The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of our God will stand for ever. His promises will never fail. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And He is our only hope. Comfort, comfort my people says our God. Amen.
[1] Oswalt, John. The NIV Application Commentary: Isaiah. Zondervan p. 454.
[2] Ibid, 454
[3] Ibid, 455
Following is my Sermon from 2 Advent, Dec. 7th, given at St. Mark's and St. James.
We are well into December, heading towards Christmas, a season of joy and light. The hustle and bustle of the holidays energizes us. And there’s some Christmas song that talks of this being the hap=happiest season of all! Joy to the World!!
And yet perhaps the continuous Christmas music we are bombarded with in the stores and the malls feels a bit artificial. Maybe we don’t really feel this great joy and happiness. Maybe we’ve got the blaahs. Tired of winter—and it’s not even here yet. Or perhaps we are discouraged that we can’t do—or buy—everything we want to this year, and we are struggling just to get by, just to make it. Perhaps our retirement nest egg has shrunk considerably. Perhaps we are dealing with loss—of a relationship, of a loved one. And maybe, just maybe we are discouraged about our church. Things just aren’t going as well as we wish they were. Some of us are feeling helpless, hopeless.
And it’s to people like us that Isaiah wrote, to people who have lost hope. Everything they feared has happened. Their nation fell to Babylon, the great Temple had been destroyed, and God had let them down. To make things worse, the Israelites had been prisoners in Babylon for some 40 years. They probably thought that their future held nothing but regret and disappointment. “Yes, God may have acted in the past, for other people, but this situation is beyond him. It is beyond his compassion . . . and beyond his power.”[1] But the time of discipline is over and now it’s time for comfort. Yes, they have been crushed under the weight of their sins and troubles. They feel all is lost and God has abandoned them, but the message of Isaiah is that this is not so. The punishment is over and God speaks words of hope.
God speaks not of judgment or punishment but of comfort. “Comfort, Comfort my people,” says your God. Comfort, comfort!! Urgently comfort! You are my people, and I am your God!! Speak tenderly, like a mother soothing her child, you have served your punishment.
And a voice cries out “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”
There is a highway in the desert—for God. The people who heard Isaiah expected God to come to helpless Israel to set her free. And nothing can prevent his swift coming to his people’s aid, neither mountains nor valleys. The highway will be level and straight, so that God can come quickly. If there is to be deliverance and salvation for God’s people—for all people, it must be from God’s direct intervention. There was and is no other hope.
There is no other hope, because all flesh is like grass. There is no permanence in flesh, there is nothing they can do to help themselves. There is nothing permanent about humanity, for all flesh is like grass, withering and dying, but if God speaks, he will do what he promises. Nothing on earth can prevent God from fulfilling his promises.
And that is the good news, glad tidings. Israel, Jerusalem, Zion are not just recipients of God’s grace, but are messengers of grace to the world. God will intervene. He will break the power of evil with his strong arm, and like a shepherd he will gently gather the lambs in his arms, and gently lead his sheep.
God acts in time and in history, and about 700 years later, there’s another voice. Mark writes, The Beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
This way leads us to the desert, This way leads to a wild prophet in the wilderness, a man named John. This prophet of God reminds us of the Old Testament prophets— Mark quotes our Isaiah passage, and John prepares the way by leveling the ground and calling all Israel to repentance.
All four gospels prominently discuss John the Baptist as the predecessor of Jesus, the one who prepares the way. Luke places the setting in time and in history. This should not be surprising—God works in human history! The whole bible tells of his involvement in human history.
In a complex setting the Word of God came to John, just as in years past the Word of the Lord came to Abraham, Samuel, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and other prophets. This is the sign of a prophet. And John was in the wilderness, the desert. In Israel’s history, the desert was an important place. The desert was where Israel first encountered God and faithfully responded to Him. The law was given in the Desert of Sinai, the prophets went to the desert to commune with God, and the Israelites spent 40 years in the desert—before they crossed the Jordon River into the Promised Land. And now we find John at the Jordan.
John preaches a baptism for repentance and forgiveness of sins. This baptism is unprecedented. This was a call to prepare for the arrival of salvation, a one-time baptism in honor of the arrival of salvation—for all people! Revolutionary! What was radical was not forgiveness of sins, but that he, John, offered baptism as a means of obtaining it! The religious leadership would have said that rites for forgiveness belonged to the temple and the priests. And then John calls Israel to repent. The Greek word for repentance means most commonly a change of mind. But the Hebrew concept of repentance is the idea of turning—turning toward God!! To be prepared for God’s salvation, one must turn away from sin and self, and turn to God. One must be open to hear and receive his message. One must turn to God and have faith in Christ in order to have hope.
John’s way was not mainstream. To go out to someone like this in the desert required a break with the institution and culture of Jerusalem and the traditions of Judaism. It was not an easy path! Those who responded to John’s call were heeding the call to prepare for the arrival of salvation—the arrival of the One for whom John was preparing the way!
Their hope was for the Messiah, and this is our hope, too. The hope of Israel and the hope of the Church is Jesus. And God who acted in time and history by sending his Son, is willing and able to act in our time to comfort us and to change our circumstances. We are called to “a life of faith in God, a life where we truly release ourselves into his hands without any reservation, a life where we are constantly giving ourselves and our concerns into the caring Creator’s hands.”[2]
800 years earlier, Israel didn’t trust in God but in other nations, and that led to their capture and exile in Babylon. But when they cried out to God, he spoke tenderly, with words of comfort and hope. They heard him in new ways, ways that changed their thinking.
“That is what we need too. We need lives of faith that are shaped by the Word of God, its view of reality, and the principles that emerge from it. If I cannot ‘believe’ God and ‘hope’ in him in the sense of surrendering my life to him . . . then his power cannot transform me. But if I will actively believe his Word, there really are no limits to what he can do for me, for my family, for my society.”[3]
The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of our God will stand for ever. His promises will never fail. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And He is our only hope. Comfort, comfort my people says our God. Amen.
[1] Oswalt, John. The NIV Application Commentary: Isaiah. Zondervan p. 454.
[2] Ibid, 454
[3] Ibid, 455
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