Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 122; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44
Today we begin a new church year, and despite the many strides we have made over the past year, will we ever find Peace, Justice, Hope, Joy, and Salvation?
Peace is coming.
We don’t hear that very often, do we?
The end is near! Repent!
We’re a little more familiar with that one.
Peace is coming.
In Gaza, death knows no rank or livelihood; it doesn’t care if you’re military or a civilian, it doesn’t care if you’re a Hamas terrorist or an Israeli soldier, it doesn’t care if you’re the good guy or the bad guy. The just as well as the unjust die right alongside each other, leaving spouses and children, and parents and friends behind to bear the pain of loss and the feelings of helplessness, all asking the unspoken questions: “Was all this worth it? When the end came were they at peace?”
The Prophet Isaiah, who lived at a time when the Southern Kingdom of Judah stood on the very brink of utter destruction by foreign armies, also reassures us that peace is coming when he declares of the nations:
“They shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war anymore.”
What a beautiful dream.
God’s Peace is coming. It won’t look like the war in Gaza.
God’s peace shines like a bright, sparkling diamond in the cold night sky. A bright star beaming down on a tired and dusty stable, a slender finger of light revealing our way to God’s greatest miracle. It waits for us in the dingy town of Bethlehem.
Justice is coming.
Human trafficking is an unspeakable evil that is on the rise in the world. Sex trafficking, forced labor, and debt bondage are the three most common flavors. Some are sold into slavery, others are simply taken against their will. There is no country that is immune; no man, woman, or child who cannot become a target. Those who are taken may spend their entire life at the hands of people who have lost their own humanity. Where is justice in the face of such unspeakable evil perpetrated against those who cannot defend themselves?
Today Paul, in his letter to the Romans, asks us to reject the sinful injustice of this world when he calls us to:
“Lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.”
Paul calls us to seek justice by allowing our hearts of stone to be transformed into hearts of flesh, hearts of light.
God’s Justice is coming. It won’t look like the sin of Human Trafficking.
God’s justice is a small sleeping Hebrew child, set lovingly on tattered strips of cloth in a straw-filled feeding trough. God’s Justice comes in a small, helpless package; a newborn baby so feared by the king of the land that the king will sacrifice the lives of thousands of helpless babies to destroy one potential rival. God’s Justice draws wise men from distant lands and shepherds from nearby fields to marvel at the miracle in their midst, and the possibility that the entire world can be changed by one as small, as helpless, and as insignificant as a baby boy.
Hope is coming.
Covid continues to be a killer that knows no skin color or nationality or political view or holiness. Covid doesn’t care if you’re a humanitarian aid worker or an army mechanic, a businessperson or a religious fanatic. Covid doesn’t distinguish between an 85-year-old great-grandmother and a two-year-old girl. Covid is an equal opportunity murderer. It slaughters the homeless and prison inmates just as mercilessly as church organists and police officers. Dozens of Americans still die daily from Covid; can there ever be hope in the face of such suffering?
Today’s Psalm speaks of hope and the nearness of our journey’s end when it says:
“Now our feet are standing within your gates, O Jerusalem”.
God’s Hope is coming. It won’t look like Covid.
God’s hope is a son his own family thinks is literally insane. God’s hope is a son so filled with the Spirit of God that simply touching the hem of his cloak cures a woman of hemorrhaging she has endured for years. God’s hope is a son that destroys the shame and suffering of leprosy with a few common words: “Go in peace, your faith has healed you”. God’s hope is a son who, with just a glance, makes cripples stroll away.
Joy is coming.
The political battles these past few election cycles have been heated and extremely destructive. We are a nation polarized, forced into one camp or the other made up of those who are for us or those who are against us, with no middle ground. We are patriots or we are traitors, and we are told that there is no in between. We’ve been taught to distrust and belittle those who do not see things as clearly as we do. We’ve been distracted by details and lost sight of the big picture.
In today’s reading from Matthew, we are reminded that those in the days of Noah were distracted by life, by the details, by the cares of the world. We are reminded that Noah didn’t allow himself to be distracted, so that when his test came, he was prepared to meet God’s challenges. Noah and his family were the faithful servants, and with God as their rudder they survived all that the world could throw at them. We are reminded that we also need to remain awake to God and asleep to the cares of the world.
God’s Joy is coming. It won’t look like our political campaigns.
God’s joy is a procession into Jerusalem, a throng of people exploding in anticipation of catching a glimpse of the one everybody is talking about. God’s joy is the smile on a vast sea of faces, the scowl on the faces of the soldiers hoping to keep order, the anger on the faces of the religious leaders who have become so much less important now . . . now that God is literally within the reach of a human arm to everyone in that crowd.
Salvation is coming.
In the letter to the Romans, Paul comforts us who have forgotten that:
“Salvation is nearer to us now than when we first became believers.”
Salvation is spoken of in a prayer written by Thomas A. Dorsey, an African Missionary, these words put to music in Lift Every Voice and Sing II L106:
“Take my hand, Precious Lord,
Lead me on, let me stand.
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn.
Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light
Take my hand, Precious Lord, lead me home.
When my life grows drear, Precious Lord, linger near
When my life is almost gone.
Hear my cry, hear my call, hold my hand, lest I fall.
Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.
When the darkness appears and the night draws near
And the day is past and gone,
At the river I stand,
Guide my feet, hold my hand.
Take my hand, Precious Lord, lead me home.
God’s Salvation is coming. It won’t look like anything we’ve seen before or can even imagine.
God’s salvation comes to us in the form of a broken, battered human body, bloody and distorted, lifeless and hanging from a cross like one personally cursed by God.
God’s salvation comes to us in an empty tomb, along with a message: “why do you seek the living among the dead?”
God’s salvation comes to us in a son so transformed by his resurrection that even his most beloved don’t recognize him at first.
God’s salvation comes to us from the one who went before us to show us the way, the one whose arms are still outstretched, no longer like this (sideways, like on a cross) . . . but like this (outstretched in a hug).
As we begin this new church year, the season of Advent, the season of anticipation, the season of light, we can only beg and plead, “Come Lord Jesus, Come!” Amen.