Tag: comfort

Thanks for Not Nice People

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

Can you name all 12 tribes of Israel? No, don’t Google it. Many years ago I had to admit to my church youth group that I couldn’t either. We were at a summer mission work camp in Virginia where instead of just giving each work team a number or a letter, some creative soul decided to name each team after one of the 12 tribes of Israel. You will recall from the book of Genesis that those tribes were named after Jacob’s 12 sons. The challenge to name all 12 arose because at our work camp we only had 10 teams; so two of the tribes were not named.

Inquiring minds want to know these things, and it provided a teachable moment. So in the church van on the way back to Ohio at the end of the week we asked our youth if any of them could name the two missing tribes. No one could, of course; so we invited the kids to pull out their Bibles and see if they could solve the mystery. It was a great way to keep them occupied on the long trip home, and turned into a much better spontaneous Bible study than most I have planned in advance.

While digging around in Genesis the youth found a lot of interesting R-rated stories that they had never learned in Sunday School. They discovered that those 12 sons of Jacob came from 4 different women, and Jacob was only married to two of them. Yes he had two wives, Rachel and Leah, and if you don’t know the story of how that happened, it’s very interesting drama in Genesis 29. The youth also found tales of incest and adultery, and other stupid human tricks that would make good soap opera episodes.

After they had shared several of these unseemly stories with each other, one of the young women turned to me and said, “Those aren’t very nice people! What are they doing in the Bible?” Excellent question and the answer is that fallible human beings are all God has to work with. It’s like when Jesus’ critics asked why he ate with sinners. Because if he didn’t he would always have to eat alone!

What I love about the biblical narratives is that they are not sugar-coated Hallmark movies but honest stories about how messy life is. The characters (in every sense of the word) are just like you and me, and the good news is that there is a place in God’s story for all of us, from Abraham to Zechariah, from Bathsheba to Mary Magdalene, not because of our many faults, but in spite of them. Thanks be to God who is faithful, especially when we aren’t.

By the way, the two missing tribes were Zebulun and Issachar.

Boston: Words of Truth and Hope

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

Anne Lamott posted these powerful words on Facebook this week and they strike me as powerful words of truth and hope in a very scary time. I just want to say Amen and pass them on.

Frederick Buechner wrote, “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.”

But it is hard not to be afraid, isn’t it? Some wisdom traditions say that you can’t have love and fear at the same time, but I beg to differ. You can be a passionate believer in God, in Goodness, in Divine Mind, and the immortality of the soul, and still be afraid. I’m Exhibit A.

The temptation is to say, as cute little Christians sometimes do, Oh, it will all make sense someday. Great blessings will arise from the tragedy, seeds of new life sown. And I absolutely believe those things, but if it minimizes the terror, it’s bullshit.

My understanding is that we have to admit the nightmare, and not pretend that it wasn’t heinous and agonizing; not pretend it as something more esoteric. Certain spiritual traditions could say about Hiroshima, Oh, it’s the whole world passing away.

Well, I don’t know.

I wish I could do what spiritual teachers teach, and get my thoughts into alignment with purer thoughts, so I could see peace and perfection in Hiroshima, in Newton, in Boston. Next time around, I hope to be a cloistered Buddhist. This time, though, I’m just a regular screwed up sad worried faithful human being.

There is amazing love and grace in people’s response to the killings. It’s like white blood cells pouring in to surround and heal the infection. It just breaks your heart every time, in the good way, where Hope tiptoes in to peer around. For the time being, I am not going to pretend to be spiritually more evolved than I am. I’m keeping things very simple: right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe; telling my stories, and reading yours. I keep thinking about Barry Lopez’s wonderful line, “Everyone is held together with stories. That is all that is holding us together; stories and compassion.”

That rings one of the few bells I am hearing right now, and it is a beautiful crystalline sound. I’m so in.

Stop Kicking the Can or Perish

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

I was reminded the other day of how strong denial can be in getting humans to face obvious but difficult realities. An obituary in a local newspaper reported that a person who was under hospice care had died “unexpectedly.” Seeing others in denial is worth a chuckle, but it’s also a reminder to check the mirror for any logs in our own eyes.

When I played “kick the can” as a child I never could have imagined what a dangerous political game it would become in the 21st century. The most recent federal fiscal fiasco has me reflecting on what the Judeo-Christian heritage has to say that can help save my grandchildren and their children from paying for the short-sightedness of my generation. This is not a new problem. Several times in the Hebrew Scriptures we are warned that the sins of one generation are visited upon their off-spring “to the 3rd and 4th generation” (Exodus 20:5, 34:6-7, Deuteronomy 5:9). Even though it’s bad theology to blame bad consequences on a vengeful God punishing children and grandchildren for their ancestors’ disobedience and foolishness, the simple wisdom that actions have consequences is indisputable and needs to be applied across the board to liberal Democrats and conservative Republicans alike, to complex problems like balancing the budget and global warming.

My first thought about political short-sightedness is often about climate change and the refusal of many conservatives to take seriously the mountain of scientific evidence that indicates we are damaging mother earth’s eco-system in a multitude of ways that will have irreversible long-term effects for much longer than 3 or 4 generations. When well-meaning politicians and business leaders say we can’t afford environmental regulations on businesses because of the short-term impact those laws have on employment and economic development, the Scripture that comes to mind is Proverbs 29:18. The King James translation of that verse I learned as a youth says, “Without vision the people perish.” More recent and better translations of the Hebrew text say, “When there is no prophesy (or prophetic vision) the people cast off restraint.” Modifying “vision” with “prophetic” is a critical distinction because short-sighted goals that favor the bottom line at all costs are still visions, but they lead to long-term disaster. Faithful, prophetic visions however take into consideration both the short-term and long-term consequences of our decisions for the well-being of all God’s children, even those yet to be born.

Two word-study comments are in order: “Prophesy” in biblical terms is often confused with simply foretelling the future, but that key theological concept is far more complicated that simple crystal-ball gazing. The Hebrew prophets were not psychics but those anointed by God to speak God’s word of truth to those who need to but usually do not want to hear it. A common phrase in the Hebrew Scriptures is “the law and the prophets” indicating both the need to know God’s laws and codes of behavior represented by such passages as the Ten Commandments (Ex. 20), but also the practical interpretation and application of those general rules for living to specific circumstances. The latter critical thinking is what prophets do. The second phrase in Proverbs 29:18 that is worthy of comment is “the people cast off restraint.” The other use of that phrase in the Hebrew Scriptures occurs in Exodus 32:25 where the Hebrew people make and worship a golden calf even while Moses is on Mt. Sinai receiving the Ten Commandments. The Hebrew words there are translated as describing the Hebrew condition as “total loss of social order,” “out of control,” or “laughingstock.” It seems to me those terms could easily be applied to the polarized political situation in the U.S. today.

Here’s my latest take on the common problem on both sides of the political debate, i.e. short-sightedness or lack of prophetic vision. On one side we have the simple mathematical facts that (1) spending billions more than we have is a sure-fire formula for disaster and (2) our current system of providing resources for our increasingly older population, i.e. Social Security and Medicare, is not sustainable unless it is reformed. Everyone acknowledges those elephants are in the room and getting bigger every day, but no one so far is willing to pay the political price of picking up that hot potato and making the painful decisions necessary to address the problems. “Kicking the can down the road” has become the catch phrase for passing the buck, which means visiting the consequences of our short-sighted denial of these problems onto the 3rd or 4th generation.

Another major issue demanding solution is the environmental survival vs. economic growth impasse. This issue is so critical for humankind that it cannot be an either/or partisan debate that results in stubborn refusal on both sides to do anything or we will indeed perish as Proverbs predicts. Prophetic vision demands courage on both sides of the political spectrum to lead us out of denial to a willingness to make whatever political and economic sacrifices must be made that will not be popular with anyone but are necessary for the long-term survival of our nation and our planet.

For Christians this season of Lent is a perfect time to reflect upon the necessity of sacrificial living. None of our current societal problems can be solved with a competitive win-lose mind set. Every citizen and political faction must be willing to compromise and find common ground instead of the perpetual electioneering we now have. The Hebrew prophets can serve as models for that kind of servant leadership. Biblical prophets never won any popularity contests or elections because they spoke truth instead of party platitudes or ideology. They put integrity and facing uncomfortable truths ahead of personal goals and comfort. Amos, Isaiah and Jeremiah were willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, and we need leaders today who are willing to do the same today before it’s too late.

Jesus followed in the footsteps of those Hebrew prophets. He took upon himself the role of suffering servant and prophet described centuries earlier by the anonymous prophet known as Second Isaiah (Isaiah 40-55). Jesus set his face toward Jerusalem in the final months of his life and nothing could deter or detour him from his destiny on the cross. His disciples repeatedly urged him to bail and take an easier path, but Jesus knew what was required of him and put God’s truth and justice above all thoughts of personal comfort or glory. My prayer is that God will raise up leaders again today with that kind of courage and that all of us will have ears to hear and courage to follow instead of just kicking the can down the road to some other generation.

For this Lent 2013 with sequestration, budget cuts, climate change and a host of other challenges, I find inspiration and guidance in the words of a great hymn by S. Ralph Barlow, “O Young and Fearless Prophet.”

“O young and fearless Prophet of ancient Galilee,
Thy life is still a summons to serve humanity;
To make our thoughts and actions less prone to please the crowd,
To stand with humble courage for truth with hearts uncowed.

We marvel at the purpose that held Thee to Thy course
While ever on the hilltop before Thee loomed the cross;
Thy steadfast face set forward where love and duty shone,
While we betray so quickly and leave Thee there alone.

O help us stand unswerving against war’s bloody way,
Where hate and lust and falsehood hold back Christ’s holy sway;
Forbid false love of country that blinds us to His call,
Who lifts above the nations the unity of all.

Stir up in us a protest against our greed for wealth,
While others starve and hunger and plead for work and health;
Where homes with little children cry out for lack of bread,
Who live their years sore burdened beneath a gloomy dread.

Create in us the splendor that dawns when hearts are kind,
That knows not race nor station as boundaries of the mind;
That learns to value beauty, in heart, or brain, or soul,
And longs to bind God’s children into one perfect whole.

O young and fearless Prophet, we need Thy presence here,
Amid our pride and glory to see Thy face appear;
Once more to hear Thy challenge above our noisy day,
Again to lead us forward along God’s holy way.”

At Home in the Universe, II Corinthians 5:6-6:2

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values, Lectionary Texts

Do you remember what it was like to be at summer camp or some other foreign place and be so miserably homesick that you thought, and perhaps wished, that you would die? The gospel song that says, “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child” describes that horrible feeling for me. And homesickness is not merely a childhood disease. Adolescence, mid-life crises, old age are all life interruptions that are ways of describing recurring outbreaks of homesickness—of feeling broken, alienated and alone in a strange world where we often wonder what we’re doing here?
We try to cure our homesickness with a host of home remedies—large doses of education, exercise—be it running marathons or climbing corporate ladders, accumulating friends and/or lovers who fill our time and the lack of peace we feel. Power, money, prestige, new cars, new clothes, new houses, new jobs, new spouses, booze, beauty treatments, Grecian Formula. We try it all don’t we? And for the most part it is all a huge waste of time and money. Because when we let our defenses down and find ourselves alone with nothing to do—remember those were the times the homesickness got you at camp too? When we’re not too busy to think and feel, then the old feeling sneaks up on us and we start feeling like that motherless child again.
The sad part is that we all feel that lack of peace frequently. But we rarely let anyone know. The world is full of homesick, motherless and fatherless children, and Paul tells us in Corinthians that our job as ambassadors or instruments of peace is to comfort the homesick and assure them they can always come home again—to God, the only reliable true source of peace. The homesick need to hear that word of reconciliation now—to know that peace is not off in the distant future. It didn’t help to have some well-intentioned camp counselor tell me that my parents would pick me up at the end of summer camp on Saturday when it was only Tuesday. I wanted someone to comfort me and hold me right then. I wasn’t sure I would even live till Saturday! That’s why Paul says we are already new creatures in Christ. The day of deliverance has already come in the Prince of Peace from Nazareth.
That’s the good news we need we are to give one another. But as you well know, one homesick kid cannot cure another one. The disease will spread like an epidemic once the tears start to flow. So, if we are to be reconcilers, we need first to be reconciled to God. We need to be at peace ourselves if we have any hope of being peacemakers. We need to be made whole, cured of our own homesickness before we can help others who are lost and afraid.
We need to hear and know that there is only one cure for deep, ontological homesickness, and that cure is faith–faith that is deeper and distinguished from mere belief. Belief is holding certain ideas about something, or about life. Faith, on the other hand, is a more total and deeper response of inner peace and trust. For example, it is one thing to believe a parachute will open properly, to understand the physics of why and how parachutes work. But it is quite another thing to have enough faith or trust in a parachute to strap one on your back and jump out of a plane at 5000 feet.
Faith, according to theologian Wilfred Cantwell Smith, is “a quality of human living. At its best it has taken the form of serenity and courage and loyalty and service: a quiet confidence and joy which enable one to feel at home in the universe, and to find meaning in the world and in one’s own life, a meaning that is profound and ultimate, and is stable no matter what may happen.”
To be at peace means to “feel at home in the universe,” to know as the “Desiderata” says, that “You are a child of the universe, no less than the rocks the trees and the stars, you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive God to be….and keep peace with your soul.” To be at peace at home in the universe is to be at peace with oneself and God.
I have cherished a very powerful and concrete image of what it means to be at home in the universe since shortly after the space shuttle Challenger explosion in early 1986. Part of being at peace is an ability to find meaning and truth in unexpected and even tragic circumstances. For me, the final words from Commander Dick Scobee before the explosion have become a mantra for me of peaceful living. About sixty seconds after blast off Mission Control informed the Challenger crew that they were going back to full power, and Commander Scobee’s confident reply was, “Roger, Go With Full Throttle Up.”
When we are at peace we dare to live life with full throttle up, knowing as those astronauts did that there are serious risks in living. We know also that there are far more serious risks in refusing to face life’s challenges honestly and courageously. Chuck Yeager, a test pilot famous for his description of those early space pioneers who had “All the Right Stuff,” said after the Challenger explosion that “every astronaut and test pilot knows that such a tragedy can happen anytime you go up. But you can’t dwell on the danger or you would not be able to do your job.” Then he added, “There’s not much you can do about it anyway.”
Life is like that. We are all travelers on spaceship Earth, and like the Challenger 7, we are all sitting on enough firepower to blow us all to kingdom come several times over. That’s enough in itself to make us a little queasy, a little homesick, isn’t it? Even if we didn’t have to cope with the routine hassles of living—the doubts, the fears, the guilt, and the disappointments. But we all do have to cope with those things every day. And we all need a faith that will help us feel more at home and at peace in the midst of our hectic and often chaotic lives.
When I was 6 or 7 years old I discovered one sneaky cure for homesickness. I remember coming home with my family from a visit to my grandparents’ farm or my aunt and uncle’s house late in the evening. I would often fall asleep in the back seat of the car after a hard day of playing with my cousins, but I would wake up when the car pulled into our driveway. Sometimes I would pretend I was still asleep because I knew that if I did, one of my parents would carry me into the house and tuck me into my bed. It felt so good to be held in those strong, l loving arms. I felt so secure, the direct opposite of homesick. Don’t’ we all long for that kind of security and closeness at every age?
Then we grow up. We lose that peace in our necessary attempts to establish our independence. We move away, physically and intellectually from the simple belief structures that once made sense of life for us. We become, for better or worse, independent, responsible adults. And with that independence often comes the feeling of homesickness.
How do we get in that situation? It’s like a conversation I overheard between my in-laws several years ago. They were talking about how my mother-in-law used to sit right next to Dad in the car before they were married. This was in the days before bucket seats, of course. My mother-in-law was asking why that changed after they got married. My father-in-law finally just smiled and said, “Well, I’m not the one who moved.”
So it is with our human and heavenly parents. We are the ones who think we want distance and freedom. And that’s OK. We are the ones who get embarrassed when our parents want to hug and kiss us in public, and we’re much too grown up for that kid stuff. And that’s OK too. It’s all part of growing up. And we’re the ones who think God’s rules for living are too confining, too old-fashioned, and certainly our parents are. We are very sure we can do much better on our own. And that’s OK too. So we go out on our own and we blow it, not once, but several times, and that’s also OK. We learn from those experiences. But what isn’t OK is when we are too proud or guilty to admit that we were wrong or that we really do need help.
It’s hard to admit we’re wrong. People just love to say, “I told you so,” don’t they? So we don’t even try to be reconciled with family or friends or even with God because we’re afraid we’ll be rejected or ridiculed. Paul is trying to tell the Corinthians and us that just isn’t so in this passage from II Corinthians 5. “God does not hold our misdeeds against us.” We are forgiven and loved by the essence of Being itself. “The day of deliverance has already dawned.” Peace is here, now, for those who humbly accept it.
Jesus told a story once about a very homesick young man. You know the story from Luke’s Gospel (15:11-32), but you haven’t heard the letter I found recently from that young man to his father. Strangely enough, it was postmarked in Chicago. Listen:

Dear Dad,
I’m sorry it’s been so long. You’ve probably been worried sick about me, haven’t you? Well, I’ve been meaning to write, but I didn’t have any good news, and I didn’t want to worry you. I was in Florida for a year after I left home. I lost the money you gave me on some bad investments. I got mixed up in some drug dealing and spent some time in jail. Please don’t tell Mom. I’ve been bumming around the country doing odd jobs and stuff since I got out of the joint. I was living in a half-way house here in Chicago for several months till I got into a fight with one of the supervisors last week. They kicked me out.
Things are bad here, no jobs, no money. I’ve been living on the streets, eating at soup kitchens or anywhere I can find a meal. It’s a lousy way to live. But I guess I don’t deserve any better. I know now that you were right about staying in school. I’d sure do things different if I had it to do over.
I’m real sorry I hurt you and Mom. I’m embarrassed to ask this. I’ll understand if you don’t ever want to see me again. But I’m sick and cold and would appreciate it if I could come home, for just a little while. Just till I can find a job. I’ll pay you back for my room and board as soon as I can, I promise.
Your son, John

By overnight special delivery, John got a plane ticket and a letter from his father that simply said:

Dear John,
You can always come home, anytime.
I love you,
Dad

(This sermon is included in my book, “Building Peace from the Inside Out: Stories for Peacemakers and Peace Seekers,” chapter 12)

Light in the Darkness

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith and Values

O God of mercy, we come to you in greater need of your comfort and love than usual this day.  As a nation we have walked thru the valley of the shadow of death this week with the people of Portland, Oregon, Newtown, CN, and the Sandy Hook school. It’s lonely in that valley and we need your strength so that we are not overcome by the fear of such incomprehensible evil and violence.  We’re shocked and angry that such pain and suffering has been visited upon innocent children and their families.  We’re confused and frightened that these scenes are becoming all too familiar.

Our hearts are broken and our minds struggle to ask why and make sense of the senseless. What we do know is that we want to reach out in compassion to everyone touched directly and indirectly by this tragedy – families, teachers, students, first responders, community leaders, churches ministering to the grief stricken, political leaders looking for ways to stop the cycle of violence.  Guide us with your spirit, O God, that we may be instruments of your peace to those near, and far and bearers of light to those surrounded by this darkness.

Give us faith and courage to continue to praise you and celebrate your presence in this holy season, even in the midst of our pain.  Remind us that Christmas comes in the darkest days of the year when we most need the light of the world.  Remind us that Jesus was born into a world where a desperate insecure king ordered the slaughter of innocent children to preserve his power.  And we know who had the real power.

The light of the Christ child still shines in the darkness, and we thank you for that reassuring presence.  Comfort us in our grief, banish our fears so that we may share the good news of Christmas that the eternal God is one with us, shares our pain, is so close to us that you taste the salt of our tears – and in that faith may we be empowered to share the good news that nothing in all creation, no valley, no darkness, no evil, can ever separate us from your great love, O God, our strength and redeemer.

Life Imitates Art

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

As I weep for the victims in Colorado I can’t help but wonder why we are surprised when the steady diet of violence we consume as entertainment spills over into real life and death.  Centuries ago the Prince of Peace said, “Those who live by the sword will die by the sword.”  As another dark night arose this week in Aurora the sad truth of that diagnosis of our human dis-ease became painfully obvious yet again.  We are what we consume, and I pray we will learn to change our diet before too many others suffer.  Please pray with me for comfort for those who suffer and mourn and for a new commitment to the ways of peace.

Comfort, Isaiah 40:1-11

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values

I looked at my calendar about 14 days ago with a start.  I should have known – there was plenty of evidence–frost on the pumpkin, darkness at 5 pm, another notch on my senior citizen belt with an October birthday, the wonderful sound of silence when the political ads stopped, and the smart alek neighbors who got their Christmas decorations up during Indian summer.  The evidence was way beyond a reasonable doubt that we are well into fall – stewardship campaigns, non-stop Christmas advertising – and yet, still in denial about the waning days of 2011, I was surprised to realize that Advent was approaching like a runaway freight train!  Yikes, I’d better get ready.  As an old boy scout, I’m supposed to always be prepared, but somehow Advent and Christmas always get here before I’m ready.

That’s rather appropriate actually.  God has a way of sneaking up on us and surprising us when we least expect it, and yet we are also ironically very impatient.  Stores open earlier and earlier every year for black Friday shoppers, creeping further and further into black Thursday, as in Thanksgiving Day.  Is nothing sacred?

I was on a retreat many years ago about this time of year at a beautiful camp in the Pocono Mountains in eastern Pennsylvania.  I woke up early on the Sunday morning I was there and decided to drive to a spot where I was told I could witness a beautiful sunrise.  Not being a morning person, sunrises are rare occurrences for me, and they are always better in the mountains or on the sea shore; so I hopped into my car and drove a short distance to the designated scenic overlook.  It was very chilly in the pre-dawn darkness, and I had not had my morning caffeine fix; so I began to shiver and grow impatient.  I didn’t know what time sunrise was supposed to happen, but it wasn’t happening fast enough to suit me.   I soon grew weary of waiting and decided to forego the sunrise and head back to a warm lodge and a hot breakfast.  As I drove down the mountain road, of course, I caught the first glimpse of the fiery red ball of the sun peaking through the leafless trees in my rear view mirror.  I turned around at the first opportunity and drove quickly back up to the lookout point.  Of course, the sun had already crested the horizon by the time I got back there.   I missed the most beautiful part of the sunrise.  I was too impatient – couldn’t wait a few minutes for something I knew was going to happen because it had happened every day since the beginning of time.  I was disappointed – and then I laughed as I remembered what day it was.  It was the first Sunday of Advent – the season of waiting and preparation.

How hard it is to wait – even for things we know are guaranteed to come. How hard it is to hope for things to be better when there is so little sign of change or improvement in a bad situation.  We take years and decades to dig ourselves into difficult situations and expect instant gratification or solutions.

“Comfort, comfort my people” say these familiar words from Isaiah 40.  I don’t know about you, but when I hear these words read or sung in Handel’s great oratorio, “Messiah,” my attention is drawn immediately to the word “comfort.”  Don’t we all like comfort?  We like to be in our comfort zones.  We indulge in comfort food when we are stressed – when the teen-age driver is out later than curfew, or our team falls behind in a big game – bring on those nachos and chocolate chip cookies.  When we are sad or lonely or grieving, we long for a comforting word,  an understanding smile or a warm hug.    Comfort is good – and God knows there is much in these difficult economic times of uncertainty that we need and want to be comforted about.

But there’s another little word in that opening verse of Isaiah 40 that caught my eye as I studied this familiar text this time—the tiny little two letter word, ‘my.’  ‘My’ or ‘mine’ can be a negative word when used to express selfish or greedy feelings.  We all know that right after ‘no’ one of the first words young toddlers learn is ‘mine.’   But ‘my’ can also be a word of extreme comfort and love.  To talk about my spouse or my children or my family or my church or my country implies a bond of affection – and that’s the way Isaiah uses the word in this text.  “Comfort, O comfort MY people, says your God.”  God is claiming and reclaiming the children of Israel after a long and difficult period of estrangement, alienation and rebellion.

Anyone else have any estrangement and alienation in your family?  Any siblings or in-laws or children who aren’t speaking to any or all members of the family?  We talk alot about dysfunctional families, but my experience is that term is redundant.  Families are made up of fallible human beings who are by definition somewhat dysfunctional.  And that includes God’s family too.  But that doesn’t mean we still don’t belong to our families.  My uncle may have been an unreasonable, arrogant, immature jerk who got mad over how my grandmother’s estate got parceled out and pouted till the day he died – but he was still part of the family.

“Comfort, MY people, says your God.”  God’s children have been rebellious.  They have ignored God’s will and God’s laws.  They put their faith in earthly kings and worldly power in the days of King David and Solomon, and the once great kingdom of Israel went downhill faster than an out-of-control bobsled.  The kingdom was split into two weaker states by political infighting and jealousy and in that weakened state had been overrun by the more powerful nations of Assyria and Babylon.  The northern kingdom of Israel fell to Assyria first, in 720 BCE, and 130 years later in 588 BCE, the southern kingdom of Judah, which had Jerusalem as its proud capital, was destroyed and overrun by the Babylonians.  The leaders and any people of influence were carted off to Babylon as prisoners and lived there for decades while entire generations forgot their homeland, their roots, and their God.

Imagine conquering armies invading the Buckeye state from that state up north and forcing us to live in exile in Detroit or even Ann Arbor!!!!  The people of Israel were suffering; they were in need of comfort.  They felt forgotten and abandoned by their God.  How could God allow this horrible thing to happen to God’s chosen people!!!  Surely the gods of Babylon must be better and stronger than Yahweh or this tragedy would never have happened.  Many of the exiles bowed down and worshipped the gods of Babylon and became quite comfortable in their new surroundings, having lost hope of ever returning to Jerusalem.  They turned their backs on Yahweh.

And yet, God calls them “MY people.”  We may forget who we are and whose we are, but God does not forget.  And that’s the message of Hope as we live into the Advent season again.  We may be poorer than we were a year ago or grieving the loss of health or a loved one. We may be carrying a heavy load of guilt for mistakes and poor choices we’ve made that led to bad consequences, but we are not disowned by our God. God still recognizes us and calls us to him – “comfort MY people.”

That reminds us of another great story in the Hebrew Scriptures when God’s children were in a different foreign land as slaves in Egypt.  They had been there for 400 long hard years and many had forgotten their ancestors and their God.  After 4 centuries I’m sure many of them were convinced that God had long since forgotten them.  But God has a memory and a heart for his people that is greater than anything we can imageine.  And God called Moses to go down to Egypt with a message for Pharaoh, king of Egypt.  That message was not “let those poor slaves go,” or “let those Hebrew people go free,” No, God’s message through Moses was very specific and clear.  God told Moses, “I have observed the misery of MY people who are in Egypt… I will send you to Pharaoh to bring MY people out of Egypt.”  (Exodus 3:7 & 10)  God claims and comforts his own.   God never forgets who we are and whose we are, even when we do.  And that’s reason for Hope.

But notice in this text that we don’t just get to sit back and wait passively for God’s comfort and deliverance to come.  Isaiah says, “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” (40:3) We are called to partner with God in our own liberation.  And that’s not easy work.  God doesn’t send us to some cushy spa or tropical paradise or comfortable suburb to do God’s work. The preparation of God’s way needs to be done in the places where God’s presence and comfort are most needed – in the wilderness – in the desert.  Where the lost and the least are, that’s where the way of the Lord needs to be prepared.   Because the comfort of God is like the children’s song about “The Magic Penny.” Remember what it says – ‘hold it tight and you won’t have any, but if you lend it, spend it, you’ll have so many they’ll roll all over the floor.”

Isaiah 40:5 gives us the clue about where God’s highway goes with another very small easily over-looked word.  This one is slightly bigger than ‘my,’ it has three letters instead of two, but it’s a very powerful important word.  It’s the word ‘ALL.’ The text says that if we prepare the way of the Lord, “then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and ALL people shall see it together.”   That’s a pivotal and important move in this text.  This section of Isaiah expands our understanding of who God’s people are in a most dramatic fashion.

Scholars believe that the last half of the book of Isaiah was written at a later date and by a different anonymous author than the first 39 chapters.  The historical context and the tone of the message shift dramatically at the beginning of chapter 40 from one of judgment and dire prediction of impending doom leading up to the fall of Jerusalem, to words of hope and restoration in chapters 40-55 as the period of exile and banishment are coming to an end.  And part of that shift of viewpoint includes the realization that when God says MY people, the circle of God’s concern and love is universal and inclusive, not parochial and exclusive.  The realization has dawned that if God is the creator of the entire universe, then God is also the Lord and lover of all creation and cannot be limited to one tribe or segment of the human family.

In chapter 49 Isaiah says, “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob…I will give you as a light to the nations that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth” (49:6). God’s kingdom and God’s people know no geographic or political or ideological boundaries.  ALL means all, as in “All people shall see the glory of God together”  (40:5).

Human understanding about the nature of God is an evolving process.  While some early Hebrews understood God as vengeful and to be feared, Jesus came to show us the tender, loving, merciful nature of God; and both images of God are evident in this text from Isaiah.  “The Lord comes with might,” it says in verse 10, and then in the next verse goes on to say, “he will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.”

Those are words of comfort.  They give us hope because we see clearly the loving, merciful nature of our God who never forgets that we are God’s people – loved, forgiven, and redeemed, if we choose to return to him like the prodigal children we all are from time to time.  God calls us to partnership, to prepare the way of the Lord, and we begin “Where meek souls will receive him, still the Christ child enters in.”

But our partnership with God means we don’t have to and cannot prepare the way for God alone.  We are all mortal – we are like grass that withers and fades – but “the word of our God will stand forever.” (40:8)   Our broken world more than ever needs God’s challenging, expansive and inclusive word of hope.  As Einstein said, “We can’t solve our problems with the same kind of thinking that created them in the first place.”  We need God’s vision of a new heaven and a new earth, of a peaceable kingdom.  That word is in God’s word, and it’s a word of Hope.  Advent and Christmas come in the darkest, coldest time of the year – and that’s no accident.  At the times when we most need words of comfort and hope, God knows our needs.  God hears our cries, and sends messengers in most unusual and unexpected forms to say, “Comfort, my people,” “let my people go” — set them free from doubt and fear and hopelessness.
Moses was an exile – on the lam because he had killed an Egyptian.  He was not articulate or powerful or influential –and yet God chose him and empowered him to be God’s messenger of hope.

In the return of the Exiles from Babylon to Jerusalem – God again chose a most unexpected servant to set God’s people free.  King Cyrus of Persia had no idea he was acting as God’s messenger.  He was just out to expand his own power and kingdom by knocking Babylon off as king of the hill.  But God chose this pagan ruler as the agent of liberation for God’s people.  Persia, if you are a fan of God’s irony and surprise, was where modern day Iran now sits.  God continuously sends words and acts of hope in most unexpected shapes and forms and places

And by the way, that’s exactly what God has in store for anyone who’s ready in about 21 days in a little one-horse town called Bethlehem.

Hope doesn’t always come in the way we expect.  So be ready – and prepare your hearts for the coming of the Lord.