From the Waters

This Sunday is Baptism of Christ Sunday.  On this Sunday every year, the Sunday following Epiphany Sunday, we remember Jesus’ Baptism.  We also remember our own since the two are inextricably wound together.  And many of your pastors will celebrate by tossing water at you.  I always loved tossing water.  It’s playful and I think worship should always have some remnant of play.  But, more than that, it’s joyful. 

The reading begins simply: “Then…”  It is such a common connector, that we probably sort of gloss over it.  But look a little more closely.  It wasn’t just the thirty years that Jesus had waited to commit to public ministry.  It was the centuries upon centuries and ages upon ages that all of Creation had waited for the dawn to break.  In essence, from that very moment when we are told in the first chapter of Genesis that God’s Spirit swept over the face of the waters, Creation has been groaning and straining for this very moment, the very moment when life would emerge from the water. 

Thirty years was, in fact, the traditional time that a rabbi waited to be committed to God.  In those thirty years, Jesus would have been caring for his mother, and making a living, and preparing himself for ministry.  I don’t really think that, contrary to what some may say, Jesus was confused about these roles.  He was always serving God.  But now…then…the time had come.  And as eternity dawns, Jesus is ready to begin.  And so, he goes to John at the Jordan to be baptized and for a very short amount of time was then actually a disciple, a follower, of John’s.

Because Jesus was from Nazareth, he would have had to make a trip of about 70 miles in order to arrive at the Jordan.  This was in some sense a sort of “mini-pilgrimage”, an intentional journey to be baptized by John.  Now, according to the Matthean version of the Gospel, John knew who Jesus was.  So, you can imagine, how uncomfortable he might have been at actually baptizing Jesus, at actually accepting this Son of God as part of his following.  But Jesus reassures John.  “Let it be so now.”  Now is the time.  It is now.  “And,” asserts Jesus, “this is the way to fulfill all righteousness.”  This is the way to fulfill the will of God.  At this moment, in an odd twist of events, Jesus and John become partners in carrying out God’s plan for salvation.  And so, just as each of us received the gift of water in our own Baptism, Jesus kneels in the Jordan and John bends over him and baptizes him.  And from the water, the work has begun.

From the water, the heavens are opened and the Spirit emerges.  And we hear what all the world has always been straining to hear: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  Even though the writer of the Gospel has presented Jesus as the Son of God in the birth story, it is not until this moment that the title is actually conferred.  From the water, comes Jesus Christ as Savior and Redeemer of all of Creation.   From the water, comes life.

So, with this story, we consider our own baptism.  I don’t remember mine.  I was about 7 months old.  But I know it happened.  And, see, “remembering” your baptism is not merely a recounting of some hazy memory; it is rather remember who you are, remembering that from those waters came life.  It is not as important for us to remember the day of our baptism as it is that we remember that we were, that we or someone on our behalf affirmed who we were—a daughter or son of God, the Beloved, with whom God is well pleased.  That’s what it’s about.  Our baptism is not our becoming.  We were already there.  God had already imprinted blueprints of who we would be deep into our being.  Our baptism is when we begin that long and somewhat arduous journey of joining with God in living into who we are.

Caroline Westerhoff says that “at baptism we are incorporated into Christ’s body, infused with Christ’s character, and empowered to be Christ’s presence in the world.  [And then], ministry is not something in particular that we do; it is what we are about in everything we do.”[i]  In other words, our own Baptism sweeps us into that dawn that Jesus began.

Jesus was still wet with water after John had baptized him when he stood to enter his ministry in full submission to God.  As he stood in the Jordan and the heavens spilled into the earth, all of humanity stood with him.  We now stand, wet with those same waters, as we, too, are called into ministry in the name of Christ.  As we emerge, we feel a cool refreshing breeze of new life.  Breathe in.  It will be you always.  Something has happened.  Maybe we can’t explain it; maybe we don’t even understand it; but in the midst of the noisiness of life, in the midst of things that we don’t think can lend to our spiritual walk at all, in the midst of everything we know and everything we don’t, God takes ordinary, everyday water, wet, cold, nothing special and from the water, we emerge with new life.

Brothers and sisters in Christ:  through the sacrament of baptism we are initiated into Christ’s holy church.  We are incorporated into God’s mighty acts of salvation and given new birth through water and the Spirit.  All this is God’s gift, offered to us without price.

Remember your Baptism and be thankful…

Grace and Peace,

Shelli


[i] Caroline A. Westerhoff, Calling:  A Song for the Baptized, (Cambridge, MA:  Cowley Publications, 1994), xi.

We Are the World

Happy Epiphany!  All the waiting is over.  The twelve days are behind us and we are set, ready to start our journey.  Are you packed?  I know, I don’t usually get around to posting beyond Advent and Lent, but I’m really, really, really going to try.  I’ll try to post once a week in line with the Lectionary passages and we’ll see what happens.  And then, for Lent…well, we’ll see what happens!

So, today is Epiphany.  Many of you probably read this passage for Epiphany Sunday this past Sunday.  But today is the day.  So, let’s read it again.  Because, now is the time.  What now?  What do we do after it all ends?  The truth is, “after” is when it begins, “after” is when it becomes real, and “after” is the whole reason we do this at all.

The text that we read is the one that our lectionary designates for every Epiphany Sunday, regardless of what Lectionary year it is.  It begins by setting us “in the time of King Herod”.  And in it, we find that the last question of Advent comes not at Christmas but afterward and is asked not by an individual but by a group.  They believe that the star (or, for some, an unusual conjunction of heavenly bodies that produces an especially bright light) marks the birth of a special child destined to be a king.  And they ask, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?

And so, Herod hears that a king had been born in Bethlehem.  Well, the formula is simple—a king is born, but a king is already here; and in Herod’s mind and the minds of all those who follow him, there is room for only one king.  The passage says that King Herod was frightened and all Jerusalem with him.  They probably were pretty fearful.  After all, there was a distinct possibility that their world was about to change.  It seemed that the birth of this humble child might have the ability to shake the very foundations of the earth and announce the fall of the mighty.  Things would never be the same again.  

So, Herod relies on these wisest ones in his court.  The writer of Matthew’s Gospel says that they’re from the East.  Some traditions hold that these wise ones were Magi, a Priestly caste of Persian origin that followed Zoroastrianism and practiced the interpretation of dreams and portents and astrology.  Other traditions depict them with different ethnicities as the birth of this Messiah begins to move into the whole world.  In fact, it was the early Western church that gave them names that depict this.  (No, these names are not in the Bible.)  But according to tradition, Melchior was a Persian scholar, Caspar was a learned man from India, and Balthazar, a scholar with a Babylonian name.  These three areas represented the known world at that point.  The Messiah had come to every nook and cranny of the world. 

But, regardless of who they were, somewhere along the way, they had heard of the birth of this king and came to the obvious place where he might be—in the royal household.  So, sensing a rival, Herod sends these “wise ones” to find the new king so that he could “pay homage” to him.  We of course know that this was deceitful.  His intent was not to pay homage at all, but to destroy Jesus and stop what was about to happen to his empire.  It was the only way that he could preserve what he had.

According to the passage, the wise men know that Christ was born; they needed God’s guidance, though, to find where Christ was.  When they get to the place where the star has stopped, the passage tells us that they were “overwhelmed with joy”.  They knelt down and paid the new king homage and offered him gifts fit for a king.  Even though later interpreters have often tried to place specific meanings on these gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, it is possible that the writer of the Gospel of Matthew simply thought that these gifts, exotic and expensive as they were, were gifts that would be worthy of a great and mighty king.  They were gifts of joy, gifts of gratitude, gifts of celebration. 

And then the passage tells us that, heeding a warning in a dream, these wise and learned (and probably powerful and wealthy) members of the court of Herod, left and returned to their own country, a long and difficult journey through the Middle Eastern desert.  But rather than returning to their comfortable lives and their secure and powerful places in the court of Herod, they left and went a different way.  They knew they had to go back to life.  But it didn’t have to be the same.

So they slip away.  Herod is furious.  He has been duped.  So he issues an order that all the children two years old and younger in and around Bethlehem should be killed.  The truth is that Jesus comes into the world as it actually is, not as we wish it to be.  Evil and greed are real and the ways of the world can and do crush life.

So, think about something.  This IS part of the Christmas story.  It is the final chapter that sets the stage for who this newborn King in the manger or the feed trough or whatever it was actually is for the world.  We know the story.  He was born to Mary and Joseph, the descendants of David.  He was born into a family that had always expected him, had always hoped for him, had always dreamed that one day, one day, the world would be a better place because he came to be. 

But, all too quickly, God moved.  God moved beyond this family, beyond these generations.  And the angel appeared to those shepherds, the untouchables, the ones with whom no one mingled because, frankly, they smelled bad.  They smelled like sheep.  I mean, who wants to smell like sheep?  (ACTUALLY, Pope Francis once said that a shepherd SHOULD smell like sheep if he or she is really a shepherd.)  But who wants to mingle with those in the bottom rung of society, those who everyone needs but who no one wants to be around?  But God was there.  And they came, these shepherds.  They responded to the call to come and see this thing that has happened.

First to the family.  Then to the ones in our community, whether or not we choose to accept them or love them.  And then God moved again.  God came to those Magi, those foreigners, the ones from the East.  They were not citizens.  They were interlopers.  They were visitors, maybe even immigrants, certainly not believers.  They were the ones that we typically would fear.  But they came.  And they changed.  They came and the world knew that this newborn King had come. 

Almost a century later, the writer of the Gospel According to John would write that “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” (John 3:16) Oh, you thought that was a new thought.  No, that was those shepherds.  That was those Magi.  That was us.  Because we are the world. 

So, what do we do with this?  We love.  We become the world.  We cut through all the imperialism happening right now, all the racism happening right now, all the fear-mongering being drummed up right now, and we just love.  Because, see, we are not individuals.  We are the world.  And when we see that, we also see that God comes.

(Yes, amazingly, this was MORE THAN 40 YEARS AGO!)

Happy New Year and Blessed Epiphany!

Shelli

Become the Change

The Light has come!  The Dawn is here! 

God created Light. 

And Light pushed the darkness into the shadows.

Light came and the world looked different, illuminated for the first time.

Light invited us to journey in a different way, to walk with Light.

But we wandered in the darkness, often mistaking shadows for Light.

The darkness sometimes made us afraid so we befriended darkness.

And then darkness taught us that we could see more clearly with Light.

So there, there in the darkness, we began to find Light.

Light began to flicker and shimmer over the waters and the earth and filled our space.

Light was like nothing we had ever known.

Light surrounded us and invited us into itself.

But we held back in the darkness, holding the Light at bay.

So, Light continued to shine into everything, even the dark and jagged corners of our world.

When we were lost, Light looked for us and we were found.

When we were grieving, Light held our hand.

When we were more comfortable in the darkness, Light waited patiently and beckoned us toward itself.

And when we could not find the Light, Light showed us our strength and our faith.

And then, undeterred, Light came, tiptoeing into our world, into even the darkness, without welcome or accolade.

And Light was laid aside.

So, quietly, oh so quietly, Light began to dance, filling the room, filling the world, filling us with Light.

Those who knew darkness suddenly knew Light.

Those who relied on shadows saw the way Light moves through them.

Light played.  Light danced. Light shimmered into the shadows of the world.

And Light invited us to join, to play, to dance, to shimmer.

And then we became part of the Light.

And even the darkness was filled with Light.

Light has dawned.  And Light asks us to dance—even in our darkness.  And we find that we are full of Light. 

The Light has come!  The Dawn is here! Go and be Light!  Merry Christmas! (SW 2021)

All the Presents have been opened
I’ve been up since early dawn
Sharing calls with friends and family
Dear old Santa’s come and gone

As we gather around the table
Holding hands we bow our heads
I thank the Lord for all of you
And this is what I said

I pray for peace to shine on a world that’s torn apart
I pray for faith to comfort and heal on troubled heart
For hope to restore our spirits, when the hopeless lose their way
May His everlasting Love surround us
This is what I pray

As we celebrate thе season and all the love that wе embrace
I’ll make sure to count my blessings when I see my children’s face
When I think about this Christmas right before I fall asleep
There’s still one thing I’ve to do to make this day complete

I pray for peace to shine on a world that’s torn apart
I pray for faith to comfort and heal on troubled heart
For hope to restore our spirits, when the hopeless lose their way
May His everlasting Love surround us
This is what I pray

I pray for peace to shine on a world that’s torn apart
I pray for faith to comfort and heal on troubled heart
For hope to restore our spirits, when the hopeless lose their way
May His everlasting Love surround us
This is what I pray

May His everlasting Love surround us
This is what I pray

Merry Christmas!

Shelli

The Moment the Whole World Changed

It’s finally here, this night of nights.  The Light for which we’ve waited and journeyed toward peers into the darkness and the world is changed forever.  This is the moment when the world really did change.  We love this story.  Most of us could probably recite it from memory.  But the story may not be EXACTLY the way we think.  It’s not like there was someone with a video camera following them around that night.  Only two of the canonical Gospel writers even tell the story and they tell it very differently.  The non-canonical Gospel According to James tells it in more detail but the birth takes place in some sort of cave.  (But, in all honesty, where did you actually read about a stable?)  The same account also brings in a midwife, which, when you think about it, makes a whole lot of sense.  So, no, I’m not trying to tear down your much-beloved story.  The truth is, it’s not about the story; it’s about the birth.  It’s also about the Light.  It’s about the Light of God coming into the world, however that may have happened.

This is the story of Light.  It’s the Light that has always been there, the light that was created so long ago.  It’s the light that led people home over and over again.  But it was always a light that was hidden in a cloud or shrouded on a mountain or even set in the promise of a bow in the clouds.  In fact, there was belief that if you saw that Light, indeed, if you saw God face-to-face, you would die.  But this night, this story, tells of Light not shining onto the earth but coming into the earth, mingling with us and giving us life.  This is the night that our story becomes the story of Light.

The Bible is not about people trying to get to God or get to the Light; it’s about the story, the story of God.  And this part of it, this chapter that we read and relive tonight, this holy night is not the climax of the story; it is a new chapter, a new beginning.  19th century American author and pastor Henry Van Dyke once asked “And now that this story is told, what does it mean?  How can I tell?  What does life mean?”  And then he answered himself by saying, “If the meaning could be put into a single sentence, there would be no need of telling the story.”

This is the night of the story of God coming out of the darkness and out of the shadows and showing us what we could not see before.  The Light is beginning to dawn.  It’s not a new light.  But this time, the heavens themselves spilled into the earth so that the story would become ours.  This is the story of Light.  It’s also the story of us.  So, what comes next?  Go into the Light…and follow God to write your story.

And change?  HAS the whole world changed?  I mean, we’ve been waiting and hoping and trying to make this happen.  But the truth is, it did.  Think of it as a turn of a corner.  There was nothing wrong with the story before.  It’s how we got here.  It’s part of it.  It was our journey.  And now, we turn.  It changes.  That’s what stories do.  The truth is, the world HAS changed…over and over and over again.  We will change again, not when Jesus returns, but when we realize that we are the ones that are called to change the world.  THAT was God’s vision.  It’s happening, a little at a time, over and over again.  We are called to be the image of Christ, to be the change that the birth of Jesus brought to the world.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined. (Isaiah 9:2)

[Verse 1]
Every December, I stop to remember
The humble entrance of our King
An infant so precious
Makes men bow in reverence
I’m still in wonder when I think

[Chorus]
That in one night
The whole world changed
As the heavenly host proclaimed
Glory to God and peace on earth
In a manger our Savior lay
It was the moment the whole world changed

[Verse 2]
Sometimes I imagine
The way that it happenеd
When shepherds knеlt to worship Him
A love that was perfect
And no one deserved it
I’m still moved to tears when I think, oh, woah

[Chorus]
That in one night
The whole world changed
As the heavenly host proclaimed
Glory to God and peace on earth
In a manger our Savior lay
It was the moment the whole world changed

[Interlude]
Oh woah, oh, oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

[Bridge]
Jesus Christ, Emmanuel
Isn’t He so wonderful?
This is our moment to worship
Mighty God and Prince of Peace
Lord of Lords and King of Kings
This is our moment to worship

[Chorus]
Just like that night
The whole world changed
As the heavenly host proclaimed
Glory to God and peace on earth
In a manger our Savior lay
It was the moment the whole world changed

[Outro]
You changed everything, oh
Oh-oh-oh

Merry Christmas!

Shelli

The Beginning of What is Next

So, if you thought I was losing my mind yesterday when I posted the Creation story, now you are completely clear that I have.  Right?  Why this Scripture?  I can pretty much guarantee that no one reading this has ever heard a sermon on this passage.  It’s not anywhere in our lectionary.  (In fact, to pull it off the site from which I usually copy the Scriptures, I had to go to Matthew 1:18 and back up.)  It’s definitely an odd scripture to use on the day before Christmas Eve, the day when we finally emerge from the darkness into the glorious Light.  I mean, we usually skip these verses.  (Admit it, you do!  You don’t read this! I mean, some of the names are barely pronounceable.) It’s full of hard-to-pronounce words that none of us want to have to read aloud and, frankly, they’re kind of boring.  So, why are we reading them?  Because the whole story is buried in the details…

For some years, I’ve been interested in ancestry, in MY ancestry. It’s become quite the project.  I have over 2,000 people noted on Ancestry.com, 2,000 people to whom I am somehow related.  It started as an interest; it’s now part of me.  It’s part of me because I have on some level gotten to know these persons whose DNA pulses through me, whose DNA actually MAKES me.  I’ve learned their stories.  I’ve found out where they were born and where they moved in their lives.  That’s important.  And in the process of doing this, I’ve found people to whom I am related, some of which I already knew!  Even if you don’t know 2,000 people to whom you are somehow related (which means you’re NOT from my hometown!), recognizing that those people (even unknown) are connected to your life will help you know yourself better.  Ralph Waldo Emerson once said that “every [person] is a quotation from his ancestors.”  So, these people in this passage we read (whether or not we can pronounce their names) are part of that very human part of Jesus.  Jesus is a quotation from them.  They are part of this Incarnation we are about to celebrate.  They are part of us.  They are the people that God employed to show us what God-with-us meant.

Oh, I suppose God could come into the world with no help from us, with no help from all those faithful ones who came before us.  But what would it mean?  Why bother?  After all, the name of the Christ child is “God With US”.  Doesn’t that mean something?  God did not just drop the baby out of the sky like some sort of Divine UPS package.  The story is incomplete without those that came before. And it is incomplete without us.  Because without us, without every one of us, without EACH of us, God never would have come at all.  God came as Emmanuel, “God with US”, and calls us into the story.

And what a story it is!  It is a story of those that were called and those that ran away, a story of some who were exiled and some who wrestled, a story of scared and wandering people sent to new places and new lives with new names. The story includes prophets and poets, priests and kings.  It is a story of movement between darkness and light and, always, a hope for a Savior.  This line of David shown by the writer known as Matthew is 42 generations of God’s people, six sets of seven generations that lived and questioned and prayed and worshipped and wondered and sometimes shook their fists at God and then handed it off to the children that followed them.  Now you might remember that the number 7 is one of those numbers that connotes perfection or completeness, the hallowed finishing.  So, six completed ages of the history of God’s people waiting and watching and walking the journey and, yes, waiting on the world to change, brings us to the seventh, the New Creation, the beginning of what is next.

The Incarnation is the mingling of God with humanity.  There’s no way out.  The Divine is even now pouring into our midst and we are changed forever.  But we have to birth the Godchild into our lives.  Knowing that we could never become Divine, the Divine became us.  The world is turned upside down.  And so, God stayed around to show us how to live in this new world.  The writer of Matthew is right.  All this DID take place to fulfill what has been spoken by the Lord through the prophets.  The Light is just beyond our sight, ready to dawn, ready to call us into it that we might continue the story.  We are all walking together.  As Ram Dass said, “we’re all just walking each other home”.

As we come to the end of this path down which we have traveled our Advent journey (because tomorrow morning’s Scripture is a definite change in timbre), I’m not sure how much the world has changed.  I think we’re still waiting.  But think about this.  In the 42 generations up to Jesus and the myriad of generations since then (what is that, like 95 or 100?), the world has changed.  Perhaps one person or one generation has a hard time seeing that change.  But over time, as time unfolds and evolves, the world changes.  And I think, for the most part, in spite of the ebbs and flows in progress that we see now, the world has come just a bit closer to what God intends for it to be.  So, whether we see it or not, we are part of that change.  What we do (or don’t do) contributes to that change.  And, along the way, we change.  And that’s a really, really big part of it.  But we don’t do it alone.  Breathe in the presence of those ancestors that surround you now, those that, like us, struggled to see the fruits of their lives.  Tomorrow the journey will change.  Let us go together and see this thing that has happened. 

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Back to the Future

We talk a lot about light during the Advent and Christmas seasons, that coming of the Light as it is birthed into the world.  But go back to the beginning.  The Light came to be back then. It was always there, pushing back the darkness and illuminating all of Creation. According to this much-beloved story of Creation, God said the Light into being and there was Light.  This opening part of Genesis is essentially an affirmation of faith in the God who created the world and all that exists.  It doesn’t refer to the beginning, per se, but rather the beginning of the ordering of Creation.  Re-read it.  You will see that “in the beginning” was already there.  The heavens and earth were there as dark, formless voids.  What existed was wild and chaotic and EXACTLY the way God intended it to be—for then.  Think of it as the prelude to our story.  And God began to order Creation and into Creation God breathed Light. In the beginning, God began to re-create Creation—with Light.

The Light was always there, always pushing back the darkness of the world.  But sometimes our eyes are not adjusted to the light and we miss what it is illuminating for us.  We find ourselves in the darkness.  So, Jesus came into the world not just to BE the Light but to show us the Light that was always with us.  Jesus was part of that Light, the revelation of the Light, and came to show us how we, too, can reflect that Light throughout the world.

In this season of Advent, our journey guides us toward the Light.  It is the Light that has always been there.  It is the Light that God created.  It is the Light that Jesus Christ came into the world as God Incarnate, Emmanuel, to reflect, to show us how to be the Light. And yet we often travel in darkness.  The darkness is not bad.  God created the darkness just as God created the light. But the darkness cannot sustain us.  Only the Light, the Light that God created, the Light that God came into the world to reflect can sustain us.

We have focused on our waiting for the world to change, our often desperate and always impatient waiting for our world to become what God envisions.  But that doesn’t mean that the world will be filled with light.  There will still be darkness.  It is what allows us to see the light.  The story—our story—that began with creation continues.  The Light was there, there since God created it.  But Jesus came to show us the Light, to point us toward it.  It IS the story.  And it continues.  And there is darkness in places that we want to see Light.  It is not the way that God envisions it can be; it is the way it is—for now.  And us?  Well, we are not called to merely follow the Light; we are called to carry it into the darkness, to light the dark corners of our world, to light the places that are lit by power and prestige and injustice.  While we’re waiting for the world to change, we are called to practice change, to become light.  That’s what Jesus came to show us how to be. 

LYRICS:

Chorus

And in the night whenever I call
I hear your voice on the wind
speaking my name calling me onward
this life to begin
for these dreams won’t come true
without your love guiding me
I know you’re never far away
I will look to you and journey on

In the mist fog and rain
I am finding my way
through curtains to the light
there is one bidding me to stay
every star in the galaxy
each one there own destiny

– Chorus

Over fresh green pastures and deep valleys
rugged mountains onwards I go
I will not stop to look behind
My future lies in thee unknown, in thee unknown

– Chorus

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Lamentable

Today is the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere.  It is the moment when the north pole (for the northern hemisphere) is tilted the farthest away on its axis from the sun.  I think it actually occurs at 9:03 a.m. this morning if you want to put it on your calendar.  Today is the day of the year when the light hours are the shortest and the dark hours are the longest.  It’s always been interesting to me that our celebration of Jesus’ birth is placed just after the solstice.  (Because, honestly, we’re not sure when it ACTUALLY happened.  That day was just sort of assigned.)

This passage from Isaiah is the beginning of what most scholars call “Second Isaiah”.  It was probably written toward the end of the Babylonian exile and is directed to those that had been forcibly removed from their home in Jerusalem several years before.  Now, this was not what we typically know of as “slavery”.  Most of the Israelites were allowed to have their own homes and come and go as they please.  They were even allowed to work for a living.  But it was a different culture and a different homeland.  Everything that they had known before was gone.  The society was different.  The culture was different. They weren’t really sure how to maneuver in this new way of living and life around them was surely one of darkness.  It would be easy for them to assume that God had deserted them, that somehow God had left them in a place to which they were unaccustomed and had just left them to fend for themselves.  At the very least, their image of God probably had to be recast.

But around 539 BCE, Cyrus, the ruler of Persia, conquered the Babylonians and so many of those exiled were given the chance to return home.  So, the exiles are filled with a message of trust and confident hope that God will completely end this time of despair and hardship.  Speaking to a city and a way of life that is all but destroyed, the exclamation is made that the exile is indeed about to end.  God is coming to lead the exiles home, bringing redemption and restoration.  In essence, God is coming to show them a new and different way to live, a new and different to look at life even in the midst of darkness.

In this writing, there is no prophet even mentioned.  Instead, here, it is God who is speaking.  It is God who is promising a new start for the city and a people whose lives today lie in ruins.  Out of the void, out of the ruins, it is God’s voice that we hear.  Out of the darkness, a new day is dawning.  “Comfort, O comfort my people…Remember, that every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill made low, the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.  Then my full and final glory will be revealed.”

Now notice here that God does not promise to put things back the way they were before.  God is not limited to simply rebuilding what was taken away.   No, God is recreating, making new, lifting valleys, lowering mountains, and ultimately, when all is said and done, revealing a glory that we’ve never seen before in what is essentially a brand new Creation, a brand new “in the beginning…”.  “See, I am making all things new.” “Comfort” here is not just solace or consolation; it is transformation.  “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.” 

As I noted yesterday, we live in an “in-between” time.  Old English would refer to it as “betwixt and between”.  It is that time of liminality.  We live in an overlap of time.  The light is shining into the darkness but we are experiencing these long hours of darkness.  I’ve been reading some of the Psalms and Scriptures of lament lately.  It is those writings of grief for the world.  It is those writings of grief for us.  It is those times when we just want to shake our fists and scream at what is going on.  It is those times when we are waiting for the world to change.  We modern-day Christians struggle with that.  Somewhere along the way we were told that we were supposed to be well-behaved around God.  But I think God can take anything we dish out.  And, to be honest, God is not a casual acquaintance.  I would like to think that I am close enough to God to get angry sometimes. 

This passage from Isaiah is an answer to those laments.  It’s not saying that bad things won’t happen; it’s not saying that the world will be perfect.  It’s saying that things are going to get better, that God is recreating us and the world even as we shake our fists and shout into the abyss.  Living as a Christian means that we are constantly pulled and stretched between the poles of longing and lament, of hope and despair, of grief and resurrection.  It is all part of our faith.  We do not live in some naïve state of being with the belief that God will somehow remove us from the reality of the present.  No, we are asked to be here, living in faith.  We are truly people of joy and hope.  That’s why the woes of the world hurt us so badly.  That’s why we grieve.  That’s why we lament, a holy practice of lament.  That’s why sometimes we shake our fists and scream into the lamentable abyss.  And God comes and sits with us, Emmanuel, God-with-us, and offers comfort and renewal, restoration and hope.

Lyrics:

[Verse 1]
I’ve seen more than I, I wanna see
The people I love turnin’ on me
But I know, I know, I know, I know there’s a
A better day comin’
I’ve been dreamin’ that one fine day
All my trouble gonna fade away
And I know, I know, I know, I know there’s a
A better day comin’

[Chorus]
Woah-oh, woah-oh
A better day comin’
Woah-oh, woah-oh
A better day comin’

[Verse 2]
And it’s harder holdin’ on to forgiveness
To lay those ghosts to rest
Oh, but the sun can rise out of the darkest night
No anger, no bitterness
Can fill the hole inside my chest
Too long, too long, too long, too long have I
Have I been runnin’
Ooh, that blue horizon ain’t far away
I hear it callin’ out my name
And I know, I know, I know, I know
There’s a better day comin’
The sun’s gonna rise out of the darkest night
It’s gonna change everything, woah-oh

Grace and Peace,

Shelli