Scripture Text: Isaiah 35: 1-10

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus ²it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the Lord, the majesty of our God. ³Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. ⁴Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you.”

⁵Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; ⁶then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; ⁷the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes. ⁸A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way; the unclean shall not travel on it, but it shall be for God’s people; no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray. ⁹No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it; they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there. ¹⁰And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

OK, I think we’re officially halfway through our somewhat shortened Advent season.  We’ve traveled through the darkness hoping that we are at least coming near the Light.  It’s easy to get tired, frustrated, and even be tempted to give up the journey completely and in the midst of those feelings, this Scripture probably conjures up that somewhat an unreachable and perhaps inaccessible utopian paradise.  I mean, we keep hearing about it but sometimes it’s hard to keep focused on that in the midst of our lives.  When you read it in the context of where it resides, it almost doesn’t fit.  This passage seems to just come into the middle of rumors of war and desolation.  It seems a little out of place.  And, like us, those so long ago were asked to imagine beyond where they were.  They were asked to imagine a desert filled with flowing waters, a wilderness that blooms.  They were asked to participate in a vision of life anew.  They were asked to see something that, for the most part, might have seemed inaccessible.  They were asked to see something that really didn’t seem like it fit.

But it’s not inaccessible.  The whole idea is that it WILL come to be.  And Advent reminds us to look for that day, to imagine it into being.  It is a tension in which we live every day of our lives.  We want it, we imagine it, and, on a good day, we believe it will happen.  And then we turn on the TV—war in Eastern Europe, war in the Middle East, rampant gun violence, people being threatened, rights being taken away, and people that find themselves with, well, a fearful heart.  That’s actually not a great translation.  It’s probably better to read it as “ones whose hearts are racing.”  So, whether we live in fear or we live in stress, when life becomes just too much for us to imagine something different, we are called to walk in holy tension, a liminality, if you will, betwixt and between the turmoil and grit of our lives and the promise that we believe.

This is Creation’s repentance.  It is Creation turning around and going a different direction.  We’re familiar with that.  When we talk of our own repentance, it is uncomfortable to turn and launch off into another direction, to begin to travel where GPS is not available and to a place with a story that we are writing as we go.  But here we are told that the desert will bloom.  The desert—that mass of dry sand that blows in our eyes and clouds our views, the place where we cannot map where we go, the land where water is scarce and sustenance is hard to find—will bloom!  The desert will turn and become something new.  Blindness will become sight; deafness will become music; the lame will leap and the mute will sing.  The waters will flow with thirst-quenching sound and the lost way will become a clear path.  Yeah, I know our translation says that God will come in vengeance.  That is probably better translated as the promise that God will “deal with it”, a recompense, a compensation of sorts.  In other words, God will respond.  That is the promise.  And God’s response is that Creation will become something new.

So, if Creation can do that, why can’t we?  Why can’t we let go of our fears and our preconceptions?  Why can’t we become something new?  Why can’t we rejoice and bloom?  I think as much as anything, it’s because we’re human.  And God knows that.  So, we’re given this season of Advent, this time where we walk holding both the tensions and chaos of our world while at the same time, allowing ourselves to imagine something different.  Advent calls us to begin to see our potential and the potential of the world. Have you ever thought that perhaps our faith journey is not about finding God at all but rather finding ourselves?  God is here.  Whether we feel God or not, God is here.  But us?  How much faith do you have in yourself?  God has faith in you.  God created you to do this, to turn, to change, to repent, to bloom.  

We’re halfway through this season of journeys through darkness and holy tensions.  Here we turn, we turn toward the Light.  It’s only a seed right now but if we keep walking, this desert will spring to life and the world we know will become more than we ever could have imagined.  And so will we. So, keep walking. We have it on good faith that it gets better!

Not only is another world possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing. (Suzanna Arundhati Roy)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli