Second Sunday after Epiphany

1 Samuel 3:1-20

Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18

John 1:43-51​

There’s a scene in “It’s a Wonderful Life” after George and the angel Clarence have dried out from their icy plunge into the river, when they go to local watering hole, a place George remembers as Martini’s. The bartender Nick owns the place now and it’s a seedier and more raucous place than George remembers. And a belligerent Nick asks George, “And that’s another thing. Where do you come off calling me Nick?”

In today’s gospel, the question Nathanael asks Jesus is, “How do you know me?” but I imagine he has that same sneer and aggravated tone as he questions Jesus. Irritated. Cynical. Skeptical. After all, he was already halfway there when Philip told him Jesus came from Nazareth. Nathanael and Philip were from Bethsaida and Nazareth would have been their hometown rival, like Shelby and Kings Mountain. Eugene Peterson, in the Message, paraphrases Nathanael’s question, saying, “Where did you get that idea? You don’t know me.”

Psalm 139’s assures us that contrary to what Nathanael, or we, may think, God does know us. The psalmist declares “You are acquainted with all my ways…Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.” (v. 3-4) Returning to The Message, Peterson says it this way:

You know when I leave and when I get back; I’m never out of your sight. You know everything I’m going to say before I start the first sentence. I look behind me and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there, too— your reassuring presence, coming and going. (v. 3-5)

John Ylvisaker’s hymn “Borning Cry” echoes the psalmist:

I was there to hear your borning cry, I’ll be there when you are old. I rejoiced the day you were baptized, to see your life unfold.

God formed our inward parts and knit us together in our mothers’ wombs, so, yes! God knows each one of us. (v. 13)

Despite being known by God, we can probably all recall times in our lives when we were incapable of hearing or seeing God.

When like Samuel we didn’t yet know God. The text says “visions of God were not widespread.” Whatever ministry he was engaged in, it didn’t include hearing God speak or seeing God move. It took Eli telling Samuel that the Lord was speaking for him to respond.

Or like Nathanael our own biases keep us from seeing God. When Philip first told him where Jesus was from, Nathanael was dismissive, asking, “Can anything good come out Nazareth?” Nathanael’s prejudice against Nazareth becomes an obstacle, obscuring his vision, so that he could not see God’s own Son standing right in front of him.

Or even like Eli who must have seen clearly once, serving the Lord as the temple priest, but could no longer see. While his eyes may have been clouded by cataracts or his vision may have deteriorated because of old age (2:22), the text can be read less literally. We know that Eli had allowed his sons to abuse the power of the priesthood, seizing the best offerings and laying with the women who came to present sacrifices. Perhaps his failure to hold them accountable for their selfishness and exploitation affected his ability to see the Lord clearly.

It is one thing to be known by God, and another to see or hear God. But, then, when we do hear God speak or see God’s work happening in the world around us, each of us must decide how we will respond.

Samuel, for one, is tentative. Eli tells him to answer the Lord saying, “Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening” and Samuel responds to voice calling out to him saying, “Speak, for Your servant is listening.” Hebrew professor Robert Alter cites a sixteenth century scholar when he wonders whether Samuel drops “Lord” from his response deliberately. Was Samuel feeling skeptical or dismissive, uncertain about who he is addressing?

However, he feels initially, he listens to the Lord and then, reluctantly he delivers to Eli the dismal but unsurprising news that the Lord intends to remove Eli’s priestly authority. (Alter, 188)

Nathanael responds more immediately with adoration and praise. He is transformed when he realizes Jesus wasn’t playing games. The recognition that Jesus had seen him and knew him prompts his reply, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” (v. 49)

How will we answer God’s call to us?

This weekend we commemorate The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. who would have been 92 if he had had not been assassinated in 1968 when he was only 39 years old. An Atlanta preacher, King grounded his calls for racial justice in Scripture and theology. On Friday, April 12, 1963 - Good Friday that year - King was arrested during protests in Alabama, and a few days later he wrote his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail”, addressing white moderate Christians who, he charged, were “more devoted to order than to justice; who [preferred] a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.”

King wrote critically, naming his disappointment that the very same people who he believed would be coworkers with God “have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained-glass windows.”

And he urged his audience to “repent not merely for the vitriolic words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people.”

King’s words challenge me. I’m uncomfortable. After all, I want to be one of the “good” Christians.

I’ve learned a lot about white supremacy, systemic racism and my own biases in the last twelve years.

But I confess that when the Capitol was attacked on January 6, I knew it was wrong, evil, and sinful, but I was ignorant of the ways in which our brown and black siblings in Christ were brutalized, watching such a very different response to the non-violent protesters, and even to the violent rioters, than we have seen before.

I know I’ve quoted The Rev. Dr. Yvonne Delk before; she is the one who taught me, “What you see depends largely on where you sit.” From where I sit, I could not see what Bishop Yehiel Curry of the Metro Chicago Synod of the ELCA, saw and shared later: that, if the rioters had been brown or black, they would have been shot. I have since heard that echoed by the voices of other black and brown siblings here in North Carolina.

During the summer, after George Floyd’s murder in Minneapolis, as our synod and denomination engaged in conversations about racial justice, The Rev. Dr. Shanitria Cuthbertson, who pastors Emmaus in West Charlotte, described conviction as “being convinced and confident that something is true.” The work of the Holy Spirit, conviction leads us to acknowledgment, admission, sight and Godly sorrow –a cycle of restoration.

What I experience when I hear Dr. King’s words is Holy Spirit driven conviction that helps me see how I perpetuate injustice and the sin of racism by my own appalling silence.

And this conviction leads me to Godly sorrow that our black and brown siblings whose inward parts were formed by God and who were knit together in their mothers’ wombs  ̶ siblings created in the image of God and imbued with dignity from God  ̶ have daily experiences where they are told that they have less worth or dignity than another person whose skin is fairer.

And that Godly sorrow leads me to want to love fiercely and out loud. King wrote in this same letter:

Was not Jesus an extremist in love? – “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, pray for them that despitefully use you?” Was not Amos an extremist for justice? – “Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.” Was not Paul an extremist for the gospel of Jesus Christ? – “I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.” Was not Martin Luther an extremist? – “Here I stand; I can do no other so help me God.”… So the question is not whether we will be extremist, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate, or will we be extremists for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice, or will we be extremists for the cause of justice?

My prayer is that, being known by God, we will hear and see God at work around us, and respond by being extremists for love and justice.

Amen.

Baptism of our Lord

Mark 1:4-11

Today the Church celebrates the Baptism of our Lord. All four gospels have an account of Jesus being baptized by John but today we hear from Mark, whose gospel is the earliest and shortest.

Lutheran pastor Delmer Chilton has called Mark’s gospel “the Cliff Notes version” of the gospel. [i]In this account of Jesus’ baptism, we don’t hear the objection the Baptizer raises in Matthew’s gospel and we don’t have the crowd of people who Luke says are there and we don’t hear John call Jesus the Lamb of God.

What we hear is John, standing outside Jerusalem in the waters of the river Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance for all who come and confess their sins. And we hear John promising that one who is stronger, mightier or more powerful is coming after him. (v. 7)

What we hear is Mark revealing who Jesus is: The Christ or Messiah. The Son of God.

And then Jesus is there and we witness his baptism, and we see and hear the heavenly acclamation:

just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." (verses 10-11)

As Lamar Williamson explains in his commentary on Mark, the Greek is even more vivid. He translates it as, “As Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens in the process of being ripped apart.”[ii]

The verb here skizomenos is the same word that will be used when the Temple curtain is torn in two from top to bottom when Jesus is crucified at the end of Mark’s gospel. (15:38)

Its root skizo is the same as the word that is used when the Red Sea divides to let the Israelites escape from Pharaoh’s army in Exodus 14, and the same as the word that is used to describe the division in the congregations or communities of faith in Acts 14.

Division and disunity are part of the biblical narrative from beginning to end.

But here’s the Good News: so is God.

God shows up in the divisions, the tearing apart and the rending and creates something new: 

A new ministry where the baptism is one of grace; 

a new land where the people are servants of God and one another, instead of Pharaohs, patrons or benefactors; 

a new kingdom where our allegiance is not to any one human leader or even country, but to God.

That is good news, living, as we do, in a world where the divides seem deeper and more disruptive than ever. Living as we do, when the fabric of our nation appeared to be torn and tattered on Wednesday when rioters assaulted the Capitol building in Washington, DC.

Our redeeming and reconciling God is found in the midst of the chaos.

The Acts text moves us from Jesus’ baptism to our own.

Paul tells the Ephesians, “John baptized with the baptism of repentance, telling people to believe in the one who was to come after him, that is, in Jesus.” (Acts 19:4)

And it is in our baptism into Christ Jesus that we are baptized into grace.

Baptism isn’t merely a sentimental ceremony that yields an opportunity for families to gather or fire insurance against a Dante-esque inferno in the life hereafter. It is a sacrament where an ordinary element is joined with God’s command and promise. In the sacrament of Holy Baptism, the ordinary element of water is joined with God’s command[iii] and the promise that “You are a child of God, sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.” [iv]

Martin Luther emphasizes how baptism is a precious and inexpressible treasure that God has given us, a treasure that depends on the Word and commandment of God.[v]  In his Small Catechism, Luther asks how ordinary water can deliver all the benefits of baptism – the forgiveness of sins, redemption from death and the devil, and salvation.

Calling baptism “a grace-filled water of life” and a “bath of the new birth in the Holy Spirit” Luther reminds us that, water – the most ordinary of elements - is made holy when it is placed in the setting of God’s Word and command. It is God’s gift and action for us that is transformational.

“Baptism frees us from sin and death by uniting us to the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.”[vi]  We hear this again in the words from Romans that are included in the thanksgiving for baptism in the funeral liturgy:

“When we were baptized into Christ Jesus, we were baptized into his death. We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.”[vii]

God gets all the verbs, not us. We were baptized, we were buried, and we are raised.

All through God’s grace.

In this new baptismal life, just as Jesus was commissioned into ministry to usher in the kingdom of God, we are commissioned for Christ's ministry to work for justice and peace.[viii] And in the affirmation of our baptism, when we remember what God has done, we are asked to renounce three things that corrupt justice and peace.

First, we are asked, “Do you renounce the devil and all the forces that defy God?”

Second, we are asked, Do you renounce the powers of this world that rebel against God?”

And finally, we are asked, “Do you renounce the ways of sin that draw you from God?”

The devil and the forces that defy God; the powers of this world that rebel against God; the ways of sin that draw you from God.

I renounce them. Again and again, I renounce them.

Within our congregation and denomination, we have different political views, but we must be united in renouncing the violence at the Capitol building on Wednesday. While it is not a sacred religious space, it is a hallowed space, venerated in history and as a symbol of our republic, and it was violated, needlessly and recklessly. And even more grievously, lives were lost.

But that isn’t going far enough, is it?

Because, of course, we renounce evil and sin when we see them on display in the actions of others. But that’s the easy part.

What’s even more important to my life with God though is that I renounce them fully and completely, because when I am honest, I know that these enemies of God’s justice and peace scale the walls of my heart, break through my defenses and tell me lies. Unchecked, they settle into my heart and mind and seed resentment and anger.

Thankfully, baptism promises the sustaining presence of the One who gives us a spirit of wisdom and understanding, a spirit of counsel and might, and a spirit of knowledge and fear of the Lord. The Holy Spirit empowers us to confront evil and sin, renounce and repudiate it, and with our eyes opened, see beyond it to the new thing God is doing in the midst of the chaos and division.

So, now, let us
face the schisms that divide us and tear us apart;
renounce the God-defying evil that we have witnessed;
name and confront the sin that draws us away from God;
and, let us wade into the grace filled waters,
confident of God’s life-giving promises for us all.

Let us pray.[ix]
Lord God, Heavenly Father,
Sprinkle water upon us that we might remember our baptism;
Clean us from all our uncleanness and from our idols.
Give us new hearts and put new spirits within us.
Remove our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh.
Unite us with Your Son Jesus in the life you have given us.
Amen.

[i] 211. “Lectionary Lab Live”

[ii] Lamar Williamson. Mark. 35.

[iii] Matthew 28:19 NRS

[iv] Small Catechism, 79.

[v] Large Catechism, 463.

[vi] ELW, 227

[vii] ELW, 280; Romans 6:3-4, NRS

[viii] ELW, 237

[ix] adapted from Ezekiel 36:25-26

Second Sunday of Christmas

John 1:1-18

Happy Christmas.

On this tenth day of Christmas instead of the story of Joseph and Mary traveling to Bethlehem, the shepherds in the fields or the magi coming to see the newborn King, we hear the beginning of John’s gospel. These first eighteen verses – the prologue or opening – of the fourth gospel are a confession of faith. Equipped with the stories of the Messiah’s birth, John now shows us how Jesus’ life reveals God to us.

It’s here that we meet Jesus as logos:

the Word was with God, and the Word was God (Jn. 1:1)

the Word became flesh and lived among us (Jn. 1:14)

New Testament scholar Don Juel once wrote that “language was previously understood [not as static words on a page, but] as moving people…a force acting in the world.” ("Strange Silence of the Bible") When we say in our liturgy, “the word of the Lord” we aren’t merely providing a citation; we are saying, “This is the divine speaking to us.”

The end of verse 14 descries the logos – the Word – as full of grace and truth, and then in verse 16, John says,

From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.

Grace upon grace; grace in place of grace; gift after gift.

Reading this verse, the image that came to me was of the Russian nesting dolls in which each one contains another, and another and another. But as with many of our metaphors for God, that is too finite, too small and too neat.

The gifts of God for us are born from the grace and truth embodied in our Messiah, our Lord and Savior, Jesus. And they are one upon another, and another and another, without end.

On New Year’s Day, a prayer resource I like called “The World in Prayer” offered this prayer:

Holy One, let us hear afresh your words of life: “I AM FOR YOU.”

This belief – that God comes into the world that we here on earth may know God – is at the heart of John’s gospel. The logos – the Word that was with God and is God – is here for us.

This promise that Christmas gives us is such a simple truth and yet it is so hard for so many to believe.

The first gift we are given is love
shown to us in Jesus, enfleshed here on earth.
And in him, we are given the gift of forgiveness
where we’re invited into relationship and new life with God,
and our life is full of God’s continued gifts.

It really is as simple as the words of the children’s song, 

“Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

I wonder whether we recognize the gifts we are given? And how God uses us in the lives of others to be gifts to them?

As followers of Jesus, we are asked to bear God’s Word and endless love out to our neighbors, community and world -that they too will know God’s abundance is for them.

For much of 2020, we had a banner in front of the church building that said, “Jesus is always with you.” It was a needed word in the midst of isolation and fear, and by our presence, we were the bearers of that word to our neighbors and community.

In November and December, our congregation shared out of our abundance, providing more than $800 and 32 boxes of food to feed hungry neighbors who visit the Shepherd’s Table at the Episcopal church down the street. People experiencing homelessness, whose jobs haven’t returned or whose need is more than they can bear alone know God’s love in a hot meal and groceries that won’t spoil.

Now, in this New Year, I wonder how we will continue to bear God’s Word and God’s love to our neighbors, community and world.

Who does not yet know the grace upon grace and gift upon gift that is God’s unending love for them?

Who has not yet heard how much God loves them, and how freely God’s gift of forgiveness is given to them?

How can we speak God’s Word – the force and movement of God’s love – through our actions?

In the midst of creating resolutions and setting intentions for the New Year, I pray we will see where we have been shown love and notice where we point to God through our love for others, and I pray that we will follow Jesus in ways that tell the world God is here for you.

Amen.

Christmas Eve

Luke 2:1-20

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Did anyone else go stargazing on Monday night?

Monday marked the winter solstice, the longest night of the year, and for the first time in nearly 400 years, the planets Saturn and Jupiter could be seen so close together in the sky that they almost appeared to be one star. At my house, we took binoculars and caught a glimpse of them before they sank into the horizon. This rare event is called a “great conjunction” and comparisons were made between it and the Christmas star that appears in the story of the magi that is in Matthew’s gospel.

Luke’s telling of the Nativity story doesn’t include the magi following the Bethlehem star; instead, we meet the shepherds who first hear about the birth of the Messiah from the angel of the Lord. They seek out the newborn child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger and then tell his mother Mary all that they had heard. And then Luke says, “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”

The Greek translated as “pondering” is a word that means “thrown together.” All these words that have been said to Mary are thrown together in her heart:

The angel Gabriel’s proclamation that she had had found favor with God

The announcement that she would bear the Son of the Most High who would be called the Son of God

The declaration that her son would reign over the house of Jacob forever and have a kingdom with no end.

And now, the revelation by these outsiders that the infant she has born is the Messiah, the Lord of all.

Mary didn’t dreamily or sigh in wonder. She pondered.

She took in all these things thrown together at her. Maybe she scratched her head, trying to puzzle out why she was chosen. Maybe, she ran her fingers through her hair like I do when I’m trying to understand something new. Maybe she shed tears at the enormity of it all. Or even argued with God.

And still, she treasured this Christmas miracle, the birth of the infant Jesus, the God coming into the world as a helpless infant, fully human and fully divine, to show us how much God loves us all.

I think as Christmas comes this year, Mary invites us to ponder all that has been thrown together in 2020. Let out a frustrated scream, shed a tear or two, and maybe even argue with God. God is big enough to hear us cry out; strong enough to wrestle with us; and steadfast enough to wait for us.

The second part of Mary’s invitation is to treasure the Christmas miracle that God gives each one of us, the revelation that God is born tonight for us, no matter what this year has held. Tonight our newborn hope is found in the birth of our Savior and Lord.

Amen.

Fourth Sunday of Advent

2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16

Wish lists and grocery lists, checking off chores – do you know where you stashed the gifts you bought, is the angel on the tree, is the bathroom clean? Even a favorite carol has St. Nicholas checking his list twice.

The days leading up to Christmas can be full of busy-ness - some sacred, some festive and some more mundane. And it’s in the midst of this busy-ness on this Fourth Sunday of Advent that we meet Nathan and David in today’s reading from Second Samuel. 

Chapter 7 begins saying that the Lord had given David rest from his enemies. And it sounds like David is about as good at resting and stillness as many of us today. Instead of taking time for prayer to wait to hear what God might say, or for stillness where he might experience God’s presence with him, David starts thinking.

And instead of enjoying the respite from strife in his family, court and kingdom, he decides he will build a house to the Lord, a temple, a permanent dwelling place to replace the tent that had housed the Ark of God since the Israelites had fled Egypt.

And the prophet Nathan, whom we meet here for the first time, encourages him, telling David, “The Lord is with you.”

But then we hear, 4 “…that same night the word of the Lord came to Nathan….”

And the Lord tells Nathan to tell David that building a temple is not his work to do.

It’s not a bad idea; in fact, it’s good and important work, but it will be done by someone else.

It can be fun thinking up ideas - in seminary we called them “big hairy audacious goals” or BHAGs - and jumping in with both feet.

During this pandemic, as colleagues have shared resources and ideas for forming faith digitally and leading worship creatively, it’s been tempting to think about virtual choirs and Christmas pageants, drive through Nativities and Advent boxes for worship-at-home. It has felt sometimes like it was especially important to make Christmas even more memorable or special because of all the loss and upheaval we have experienced this year. And I have had to catch myself and remember that as your pastor, I cannot bring you Christmas.

As Dr. Seuss’ Grinch Who Stole Christmas learned, Christmas will come without ribbons and bows, packages, boxes or bags.

It will come because God so loves the world and sends us Jesus, the infant Son of God, from the house of David, who is born under a star.

In this story in Second Samuel, David teaches us two important lessons:

The first lesson is that God actually creates moments of rest and respite for us, if we only will take them.

Psalm 37 says, “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently…do not fret,” and psalm 46 says, “Be still and know that I am God.” God creates these spaces for our good, but we’ve conditioned ourselves to think we are being lazy if we take time to spend time in stillness.

Our lectionary reading ends before we hear how David responds to Nathan, but if you keep reading in Second Samuel, you’ll see that he doesn’t get angry or argue with the prophet. He doesn’t become indignant. Instead, he responds by sitting before the Lord and entering into prayer, declaring who he knows God to be and proclaiming God’s greatness.  

The second lesson we learn from David is that the work to honor God, to set apart places and times for what is sacred and holy, is not our work alone.

When I’ve got big ideas, or long and varied lists, or find myself trying to move mountains to make something happen, it’s a good idea to check in with God to see whether my ideas reflect what God wants, or reveal, in fact,  that the work is better suited to another person or time and place.

It doesn’t mean that the work isn’t good or important, only that someone else may be called to it.

David’s story reassures us that God is inviting us to rest in God’s presence and to listen for God’s leading, and not try so very hard to solve the world’s problems on our own. Those are comforting words in these busy days leading up to Christmas and my prayer is that you will find the rest and assurance that God offers.

Amen.

Third Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 61:1-4,8-11 

Did Isaiah’s words sound familiar when you hear them today? Jesus uses these words as his topic sentence for his first public sermon in Luke Chapter 4. There he is speaking to the assembly in the synagogue and when he finishes, the people try to throw him off a cliff.

His words were good news to the ones named in these verses – the oppressed, the brokenhearted, the captives and prisoners and those who are mourning. But they meant that things would not be the same. People would not be able to do the things they have always done. In Jesus, God was breaking into the world, turning things upside down and doing something new.

When Isaiah speaks these words for the first time, in Third Isaiah, he wants the people to know that whatever they are facing – unfairness, sorrow, grief, or the loss of freedom – their suffering has not gone unnoticed. The Lord has anointed him and sent him to initiate a new beginning for God’s people.

When we have faced defeat or are suffering or grieving, and we are laid low, it can be difficult to expect anything good, to recognize kindness or find hope.

But into the uncertainty that surrounds God’s people upon their return from exile, the prophet speaks, promising to clothe them, replacing their ashes with garland, their mourning with the oil of gladness and their faint spirits with a mantle of praise.

This is God’s merciful and redeeming action for them; not the result of anything they have done or said.

The prophet then says,

3b [The people] will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, to display his glory. 4 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.” (Isaiah 61:3-4)

Isaiah was no longer calling the people grass that would wither or flowers that would fade. (Isaiah 40:7) Now they were to be oaks, mighty trees that endure centuries and withstand hurricanes, tornados, and droughts. Mighty trees that began small, insignificant and easily overlooked, as acorns.

As we hear these verses today, hopefully we can place ourselves in the text, and hear the prophet’s charge to us as God’s people. We are to stand strong and visible, as witnesses to God’s activity in the world. Our beginnings may be humble, but God is the one leading us and strengthening us.

The prophet continues to say that God’s people will be the ones who

shall build up the ancient ruins, …raise up the former devastations; …[and] repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations. (Isaiah 61:4)

The prophet isn’t the one who will pour sweat and tears into this work of restoration and renewal. It’s God’s own people who are being called.

One of the observations that has been made about this year and the pandemic is that the fissures or cracks in our systems and safety nets, our healthcare and even our economy have been exposed. It’s not that the problems we are facing originated in the last nine months, but that our vulnerabilities were unmasked.

And when the pandemic ends, we aren’t going to be able to do the things we have always done.

As Jesus’ followers, we must go into places of ruin, bear witness to God’s presence, and walk alongside people who have been hurt by the church and world, and listen to the devastation in their lives.

For us today the verbs Isaiah uses aren’t about bricks and mortar; they are about people, the very brothers and sisters who are our neighbors. Redeemed by God, we are called to build up God’s people, raise up faithful disciples and repair broken relationships.

And when any one of us feels overwhelmed by that work – because it is hard work – may we remember that the mighty trees we are called to emulate survive because they have a sprawling root system that goes deep into the ground, and when they grow in dry places, the roots grow even more deeply. Those roots are anchors, securing the trees to the ground and they are lifelines, sending up new sprouts when the tree is damaged and storing what they need to grow and endure.

In the same way, our relationships with God and with one another keep us connected in a system where we will find encouragement and strength to weather whatever comes our way.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for sending your Son Jesus into the world to bring light into darkness and hope to the weary.

Thank you for your mercy and grace that is unmerited and unearned, but ours all the same.

Nourish us in our congregation with Your Word,

and by Your spirit strengthen us to be witnesses

to your presence in the world and messengers of the good news of Your love.

We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.

Amen.

Second Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 40:1-11

Sometimes we read the Bible continuously, neatly following the passages as one leads to the next. But the lectionary readings during Advent aren’t so orderly. Today’s reading from Isaiah and the Gospel reading from Mark both go backward from where we were a week ago.

You may remember that last week’s Old Testament reading was in Third Isaiah, the section written after the Israelites were allowed to return from exile to Jerusalem.

First Isaiah is the first 39 chapters of the book that address Judah in its stubbornness and failure to follow God; that section ends with an oracle in Chapter 39 that anticipates the exile into Babylon.

This week’s verses in Chapter 40 are the poetic opening of Second Isaiah. It’s thought that as much as 150 years passed between First and Second Isaiah  ̶ 150 years of living in exile, of dislocation and disruption, disconnected from God’s presence and voice.

Our reading begins with God speaking, breaking into the emptiness of exile and speaking hope to God’s people. Scholars say the prophet is listening to God address a “divine council” or heavenly assembly of angels and messengers.[i]

It’s easy to miss in our translation, but the passage actually has multiple voices. In the first two verses, God is commanding that God’s people be comforted, effectively saying, “Enough is enough and your suffering is ended.” [ii]

Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, her penalty is paid... (Isaiah 40:1-2)

This is good news for the Israelites who had spent the exile
looking backward to the Exodus, the time in which God had freed his people from oppression,
and looking forward with uncertainty, waiting for God to again act decisively for God’s people.

And then another voice breaks into the discourse and the third verse is the one Mark uses to announce John the Baptizer in today’s gospel.

3 A voice cries out:

“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

God promises there will be a public return, demonstrating God’s triumphant victory over Babylon.

When a third voice joins in asking, “What shall I cry?”, scholars say it is the prophet himself. He protests that after such a prolonged separation, the people are more comfortable with God’s absence than God’s presence. And they have proven themselves unreliable. What can he say to change their hearts and minds?[iii]

And then like last week’s mighty “Yet” we hear one of the council voices saying,

“Yes, but the word of God will stand forever.

Yes, the people have been fickle. Yes, they have turned away from God. But God is God and God’s grace for us is not dependent upon any human effort or merit. It is always God’s saving action for us.

And then the council voice speaks again, calling Isaiah the herald of good tidings, the bearer of the Good News that God is decisively present, here with God’s people, and “the world is changed by God.”[iv]

As God’s messengers, we too are called to be the herald of good tidings, the Good News, in today’s world.

I wonder, what message comes to you if you read this passage with the name of our congregation and community in place of Zion and Jerusalem and Judah?

Lift up your voice with strength, Ascension Lutheran, herald of good tidings. There is good news for the city of Shelby. Shout it as loud as you can from the highest mountain. Don't be afraid to shout to all of Cleveland County, 
“Your God is here!”

Especially in Advent, we are called to proclaim the Good News of God’s presence and mercy to our community with joy:[v] 

The Good News that, as long as the nine months of the pandemic have been, they have not been an exile from God’s presence.  God is with us.

The Good News that God comforts God’s people, recognizes our suffering, and does not leave us alone.

The Good News that God is both a warrior for God’s people who conquers God’s enemies, and a gentle, shepherding God who cares for the vulnerable and shows mercy to those in need.

The Good News that the long-expected Jesus is coming into the world, delivering us from evil, freeing us from our fears and sins and giving us hope and peace.

Thanks be to God for the Good News.
Amen.

[i] Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah Chapters 40-66. 15-17.

[ii] Brueggemann, 18.

[iii] Brueggemann, 19.

[iv] Brueggemann, 21.

[v] “Light on the Lessons”. Lutheran Bible Ministries. © 2011. Used with permission.