"Joy on the Journey"
Sermon Presented December 12, 2004
Advent III
It doesn't seem possible that the third Sunday of Advent is here! As we travel this Advent journey together, we again delight in the poetry of Isaiah, this time the 35th chapter - a poem of joy - a poem of love - a poem of God's presence and direction.
Traditionally I have changed Bibles every few years because the covers were torn and pages were falling out. But a couple of years ago, I had my Bible rebound with a genuine leather cover - hoping it will last my lifetime. By keeping the same Bible, I can see notes made in past years. When working on this sermon, I saw a note beside verses 3 and 4 of our text which says: "Cameron Edwards, 12-6-97." Cameron was a child in the Marysville congregation who died of cancer in 2000. When I found a verse that spoke to me for Cameron, I would take it to him. His mother told me he read these scriptures over and over again during his 3-year battle with that deadly disease. When he died, he was more at peace than we were.
However, this text wasn't originally written for a child with cancer. God gave it first to the weak and fearful captive people of Israel. Their homeland had been devastated by war and was a barren desert wasteland. In the midst of captivity, God gave the prophet a picture of their return to Zion - to Jerusalem - to the City of God, and this return would take place on a well-marked highway accompanied by a joyful time of celebration. This is what Isaiah saw.
Isaiah 35:1-10 (read text)
When we were preparing to build a new home in 1989, I consulted with an interior designer who had moved his business from Lake of the Ozarks to Scottsdale, AZ. After a family vacation in Nevada, my son Gary and I stopped off in Phoenix so that the designer could look at the architectural drawings and give me some input. Because neither Gary nor I had ever been to Arizona, we rented a car and drove around the countryside after the business was completed.
While touring this desert state, we heard an amazing story from some of the residents. Although we passed miles and miles of hillsides covered with dry brush we were told that every few years these same hills were blanketed with wild flowers. When the flowers die, the seeds can lie dormant for years and then when there is a drenching rain at just the right time, the seeds germinate quickly and flowers cover the hillsides. If I hadn't seen pictures, I wouldn't have believed it. This must be like Isaiah's vision of the dry parched desert coming alive with blossoms.
Isaiah's vision begins with blossoms in the desert, but it includes more than just a transformation of the land from dry to fertile. It includes the transformation and healing of God's people, thus filling them with joy. Here, the weak become strong; the blind see; the lame dance; the deaf hear; the speechless sing; and the captive people head home via a wide and safe highway. What a vision!
On this highway to Jerusalem called the Holy Way, Isaiah saw that even those who were directionally handicapped as I am wouldn't get lost! The way Isaiah puts it, not even fools will go astray! That would be enough to make me sing for joy! Isaiah's vision could lift the most depressed captives to singing songs of praise to God.
Because the highway is called the Holy Way, we sense this is a spiritual journey as well as a physical journey. Although it was to lead the Jews back to Jerusalem, it was more than that. It was the way back to God. Those on this journey are those redeemed through their relationship with God.
I want my life journey - like my travels - to be pleasant and effortless. I want a clearly marked map and a good compass. I want to know where I'm going and when I'll arrive. I don't want to spend time in the desert and I don't want to get lost. I don't want to spin my wheels, backtrack, cross narrow bridges over rivers, experience dryness or confront detours. I don't want to run out of gas, food or water. I don't want to face pain or sorrow or the unknown. I don't want to have to depend on someone else to get me where I need to be. I don't want much, do I?
But on my life's journey, I face dangers and sorrows and detours. I sometimes take excursions into areas best left alone. Sometimes the road is icy or under construction. Sometimes I flounder because I sense no direction. Sometimes I need more patience. Even when I know that the road goes to the right destination, I can't see the destination. I must continue traveling, believing I will arrive at the promised location. I think the Holy Way that Isaiah saw in his vision was like that.
Thursday, a library book I had ordered arrived. I didn't have time to read it, but when I glanced at the table of contents of this book of poetry, I noticed that a previous reader marked one poem, The Journey, so I read it. Hear the poem by Mary Oliver and see if it speaks to you as it did to me.
"The Journey"
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you kept shouting
their bad advice---
though the whole house began to tremble
and you felt the old tug at your ankles.
"Mend your life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers at the very foundations,
though their melancholy was terrible.
It was already late enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen branches and stones.
But little by little, as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly recognized as your own,
that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do---
determined to save the only life you could save.(New and Selected Poems by Mary Oliver)
For me, Mary Oliver's journey is like the journey Isaiah visualized. It was frightening to begin the journey, but the destination meant life and presence and hope. Isaiah's audience saw his vision as a sign of hope that they would leave captivity and return to God's holy city. God told them the journey was possible because the road home would be clearly marked. God also said that as they progressed along the journey, their sadness would turn to joy. But in order to go home they must believe that the journey is worth taking and they must believe they can make it! And most importantly, they must begin the journey.
On our life's journey, we take so much for granted - that is, until we lose it or fear we might lose it. When we are without rain and the crops dry up, we rejoice when it rains. (I wasn't rejoicing last Friday as I loaded groceries into my car and darted in and out of stores in the rain.) When a lost child is found, a missing wallet is returned, or good health is restored, we appreciate it much more than before because now we don't take it for granted. In the text, the ransomed return to Zion after being in captivity. The freedom they once took for granted is now cherished, and thoughts of freedom will bring rejoicing and singing! Sorrow and sighing will disappear!
However, even when we prepare carefully for a trip, there are things we can't anticipate. We must trust that we will be able to deal with problems as they arise. We must trust that God will help us make right decisions along the way. We rejoice when we have good experiences but not everything is good. Our faith or lack of faith comes into play when bad things hit.
We are all on a journey and God calls us to help one another on that journey. The text gives the hearers the admonition to strengthen others through a positive word from God. Listen again to verses 3 and 4 of our text - the words I marked for Cameron. Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, "Be strong and do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you." As we encourage others, we are strengthened on the journey.
One thing to keep in mind is that we can't always strengthen people with the words they want to hear. We don't have perfect wisdom and we haven't arrived at the time of perfection when all things will be new - when the earth is transformed and complete healing takes place. We live in the in-between times - between the promise and the not yet. Christ has come and still comes. Christ helps us in our struggles with temptations, pain, fear and anger. Christ heals. But the world hasn't reached perfection and Isaiah's vision is still a hopeful dream because it reaches far beyond homecoming.
Luke tells the story of disciples of John the Baptist coming to Jesus to see if he is the one who is the Messiah. Jesus' answer (7:20-22) is: "Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought to them." Jesus brings hope that all things will be made new and whole.
One of our tasks during this Advent season is to look at our community and at ourselves through the eyes of the prophet Isaiah, and then appropriate his words of encouragement. Let's ask ourselves whose "weak hands" need strengthening and whose "feeble knees" need to become firm again. Where is fear taking over and hope fading? Who needs to find her or his own voice? Who needs the message of Advent that God will come and save - that Christ has come and still comes?
We are called to bring God's full message of hope and salvation to a lost world. But we won't be very convincing unless we are on the Holy Way ourselves - unless we are making the spiritual journey toward a deeper relationship with God.
So let's continue on the journey, knowing that our
destination is eternity with God. And as we journey, let's invite others
to accompany us.
