Nontraditional Advent: Isaiah 13-16 - Punishment and Sorrow. And Compassion.

We ask God for deliverance.  Deliverance from evil.  Deliverance from suffering.  Deliverance from oppression.

And we wait.

When will God make things right?

The Lord Almighty has sworn: Surely, as I have planned, so it will be, and as I have purposed, so it will be stand.  (Isaiah 14:24).

And what will God do? What are the plans "determined for the whole world" (14:26)?  God will destroy all oppose him.  And we ask, "Really, God?"  Isn't there a better way?  Must people die?  In our culture, this destruction seems unjust, undeserved.

Ultimately, I don't understand God's plans.  I understand He is holy.  I understand He punishes sin.  I understand that discipline doesn't always bring about repentance.  But I struggle with destruction.

Isaiah shows us that the destruction brings God no joy.  Indeed, God says, "My heart laments for Moab like a harp" (Isaiah 16:11; see also 15:5).  He urges the Israelites to also show compassion, saying, "Let the Moabite fugitives stay with you; be their shelter from the destroyer" (16:4).

God's goal is not destruction, but restoration.  His plan is for the aliens, the foreigners, the Gentiles to join with the Israelites, to "unite with the house of Jacob" (14:1).

His goal is to establish a throne of love, "in faithfulness a man will sit on it--one from the house of David, one who in judging seeks justice and speeds the cause of righteousness" (16:5).  He promises that "the poorest of the poor will find pasture, and the needy will like down in safety" (15:30).

Right now, we see "through a glass darkly" (1 Corinthians 13), but then we shall see "face to face."  We will know fully, even as we are fully known.  We won't struggle anymore.  We will rest in God's love.  We will hear his voice.

We're still waiting.  For the day when everything will be made right.  And I wonder how much longer?

Nontraditional Advent: A Secular Christmas. And Jesus is still present.

On Monday morning, Duane and I headed over to San Diego State to pick up my telephone, which I had left in the TA office on Friday afternoon.  As we drove off campus, I asked Duane if he wanted to stop and sit in a coffee shop so we could do our devotions together.  I figured this was probably the only chance I would have to see him on Monday.  He was going up to Oceanside to see his mom, and I would be sitting at home all day, working on a paper that's due in a few days.

We got our coffee and sat down in a corner.  It's Christmas, and of course Christmas music was blaring.  This is the kind of Christmas music that, although quite cheerful, doesn't really put me in the mood for prayer.  And I so I was reading Isaiah, journaling, and pretty much trying to put the music in the background.

I heard Frank Sinatra singing, "I love those J-I-N-G-L-E Bells."  And then Eartha Kitt sang, "Santa Baby."  And I marveled at how very un-Christmasy that song is.

I began to pray for different friends, and as I prayed, I wrote each name in my journal.  Hard situations.  Broken relationships.  Abandonment.  Illness.  Disappointment.

And then, I heard these words in a song, offering hope in each situation.  Good tidings of comfort and joy.  And I understand the meaning for Christmas.  When Jesus enters the world, he doesn't enter into a world that knows who he is.  He enters into the Jingle Bells, Santa Baby world.  And he offers hope to that world.

We live in a difficult, awkward world, full of broken dreams.  Sometimes things go well.  And sometimes they don't.  But God is good.  No matter what's going on around us, God is good.

And when the angel came to the shepherds, he said, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”


Don't be afraid.  Don't worry.  Don't get caught up in your circumstances.  Jesus is here.  He is the Messiah.  He is hope for your future.  He is Immanuel, God with us.  


And then, suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

Jesus still makes his presence known in the midst of "Santa Baby" and "Jingle Bells."

Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid.  The Lord, the Lord, is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation.  Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name.  Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things.  Shout aloud and sing for joy, for great is the Holy One of Israel among you.  (Isaiah 12).

Nontraditional Advent: Isaiah 9-12 - Light!

Light.

I think I take it for granted.  After all, we live in a world with electricity that works pretty much all the time, unlike in other parts of the world.

Right now it's dark outside, but I'm inside, and I can see perfectly fine.  Without it, I couldn't read.  I would have trouble cooking.  I would trip over the Amazon boxes in my office if I tried to leave the room.  Seriously.  We need the light.

And so, we use metaphors involving the word "light."
We "see the light" when we have an epiphany.
When we see the "light at the end of the tunnel," we are approaching the end of a difficult situation.
To "shed some light" one something means to explain something in a way that leads to greater understanding.
And when we're "in the dark," we just don't know what's going on.

Isaiah writes, "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light."  And I've heard this passage enough times that I know Jesus is considered to be the fulfillment of this prophecy.  (See Matthew 4:12-16.)

I've been thinking about this passage for a few days now.  The thing is, I think we take the Light for granted.  We have just enough light in our lives that we think we see clearly.  We think we can see where we're going.  We think we know what's happening around us.

It's sort of like when you're reading in the daylight, but the sun starts going down, and you can still see, but you don't realize how the light is disappearing.

John tells us Jesus "was the light of men" (John 1:4-5) that "shines in the darkness, but the darkness" doesn't understand.  He tells us that Jesus is the "true light that gives light to every man [and woman]" (v. 9).

Jesus describes himself using bold terms in John 3, stating, "Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds are evil.  Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed.  But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God" (John 3:19-21).

We don't need to fear the light.  Jesus didn't come to condemn us, but to save us.  "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes on him shall not perish, but have eternal life" (John 3:16).

He declares, "I am the light of the world" and promises, "Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."

This is the promise of God through Isaiah, fulfilled in Jesus.

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."  (Isaiah 9:6)

When I take a moment and think about these descriptions, when I take a moment and think about the Light of the world, dispelling the darkness in my life, then I can't help but celebrate Christmas.

Nontraditional Advent: All I Want for Christmas . . .

I don't make Christmas Wish lists because it's a great way to be disappointed.  I have a hard time asking for what I want.  Oh, there are a lot of things I want, but I don't really expect people to give them to me.  I hope they will, but I don't actually ask for them.  

And so Pastor Mike's question yesterday is kind of difficult for me.  In the sermon yesterday, "What are you longing for this Christmas?" 

It reminded me of when I was a little girl, and my sister and I spent hours sitting on the harvest gold couch in the living room, poring over the Sears Christmas catalog, playing a game we called "Pick."  In this game, we went through the catalog, looking at three-story Barbie doll houses, and rock tumblers and child-size electric guitars, and as we turned the pages, we took turns picking one thing from each page.  If I picked something, my sister couldn't pick it too.  

This was a fairly competitive game of "mine and not yours."  Except we knew that we were only picking the "idea" of the thing and not the thing itself.  We would never ask for all these things.  Our parents didn't talk much about money, but somehow we knew that it wouldn't actually do much good to ask for any of these things.

Honestly, I don't remember asking for much.  We had everything we needed--clothes, food, housing.  Our parents sacrificed to give us other things too--musical instruments and lessons.  At one point, my mom and dad had five of the six children in piano lessons.  Philip wasn't old enough.  And four of us were taking Irish step dancing lessons.

So we definitely weren't deprived.  Still, we learned not to expect much in the way of "stuff," and we learned not to ask for "things."

One time I asked very specifically for a Skipper doll with bendable legs.  In retrospect, my dad may not have understood how important it was that Skipper could bend her legs.  After all, it's not like she's actually going to get up and walk away.  I could tell from the wrapped box that I was going to get this prized gift, and so I looked forward to Christmas Eve.  This was going to be the best Christmas ever.

Except that when I tore off the paper, I had the old-style Skipper.  I'm sort of embarrassed now by the way I acted.  I think I got quiet and pouted.  I think I got grumpy.  Of course, I was only ten.

We left the next day to visit my grandparents in Kansas, and I know my dad visited multiple Sears stores in the Kansas/Missouri region looking for the "right" Skipper.  I didn't ever thank him, and I don't actually remember if we found the perfect Skipper.  The magical Christmas moment when you open the present under the tree, and it's exactly what you want?  That was gone.  Never to be retrieved.

And so I learned not to ask for much.  And to expect even less.  Which isn't that terrible.  After all, I had everything I needed.  However, I extended this pattern to my relationship with God, which is not such a great thing.  James tells us, "You do not have because you do not ask God" (James 4:2).  And Matthew records the words of Jesus, who tells his disciples, "Ask and you shall receive . . ." (Matthew 7:7).  Paul admonishes us not to worry, but to "present our requests to God" with thanksgiving (Philippians 4:4-7).

I don't think the message here is to ask for Porsches, giant bank accounts, or Barbie mansions.  And so I worry sometimes that I might ask for things inappropriately.  Honestly, I had trouble answering my kids when they asked me what I wanted for Christmas.

And that brings us back to Pastor Mike's question, "What are you longing for this Christmas?"

Here's my Christmas list, the things that are most important to me:

• I long for my children to experience the joy of God's love.  
• I long for my children to experience God's presence.  
• I long for my husband to be increasingly filled with God's Spirit and to walk in all that God shows him.

And for me?  My requests are taken from Psalm 119:169-176.

• Understanding, according to the Word of God, so that I see circumstances and people through God's perspective instead of my own.
• God's help in all my endeavors.
• A heart of worship.  All the time.  I want to see God's greatness.  All the time.

Sometimes, when my heart feels heavy, I pray this prayer, "I long for your salvation, O Lord, and your law gives me delight.  Let me live that I may praise you, and may your Word sustain me."

Here's what this means to me:

I long for your presence in this situation.  I long for a heart of worship in spite of the circumstances.  I long to hear your voice right now, in my hurt, in my disappointment, in my anxiety, in my struggles, and I long to rejoice in you.  

That's what I want for Christmas.  And these are gifts only God can give me.  

2 Peter: Excited about Christmas!

I remember being a kid, waiting for Christmas.  It seemed like it would never get here.  And so everything we did, putting up the tree, hanging the ornaments, counting the presents under the tree, singing Christmas carols, decorating cookies, watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, all of these added to the anticipation.  We knew that after all these things happened, then Christmas would be here.

On Christmas Eve, I watched the lights in the sky.  If I saw a red one, I asked my dad if that was Rudolph.  On Christmas morning, we woke up early.  Too early.  And we waited until we couldn't wait any more and then we went and woke up our parents.  Such wonder.  Such awe.   Such joy in waiting and then seeing the promised event actually come to pass.

My sister, brothers, and I celebrated the candy cane in the stocking.  And the little chocolates and the toothbrush, new crayons and color book.  One year I got a bike.  That was a great year, except that I didn't learn to ride it for over a year.  And, of course, sometimes Christmas day wasn't quite what I hoped.  One year I got more clothes than toys.  Another year the Skipper doll I asked for didn't have bendable legs.  I was crushed.

And so I set out to make magical Christmases for my kids.  I wanted to recreate the awe and wonder of my own experience for them.

Those days are over.  My kids are all grown up.  Today they're all coming over to decorate the tree, but it's not like it was when they were little.  In those days, I let them put stickers on the days so that they could count down until Christmas.  I explained, "Only six more sleeps, and then you'll wake up and it will be Christmas."  I hid all the presents in the closet or Kirsten would figure out what each gift was, and then we put them out on Christmas Eve before the kids woke up.

The magic is gone.  We don't count down the days until Christmas.  I think that I'll get some of the magic back when I have grandchildren, but who knows?

Right now I just want to recapture the magic and the anticipation of waiting for Jesus.  For experiencing his presence.  For looking forward to the second Christmas, when he returns to reign in all his glory.

That's hard to do.  First of all, we don't know when it's going to happen. I mean, we have no idea.  We can't put stickers on the calendar.  We don't know how many sleeps it will be before Jesus comes back.  Peter describes it this way, stating, "With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day" (2 Peter 3:8).  It seems like it will never happen, but God is now slow, Peter says, as some people define slowness, he is "patient . . . not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance" (2 Peter 3:9).

Even more difficult, we have people around us, questioning our faith in the promised return of Jesus.  Peter calls them scoffers.  They ask, "Where is this 'coming' he promised?  Ever since our fathers died, everything goes on as it has since the beginning of time". (2 Peter 3:3-4)  In essence, "Nothing has changed.  Nothing will change.  You might as well believe in Santa Claus."

And finally, over time, we tend to forget.  That's why Peter reminds us, "You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming. . . we are looking forward to a new earth, the home of the righteous" (2 Peter 3:11-13).  This is more than sparkling, flashing lights.  This is more than a bicycle under the tree and a new toothbrush.  This is Jesus.  The One who loves us, who suffered for us, who died for us, who sits at the right hand of God, interceding for us.

I want to recapture the magic.  I want to revel in the anticipation of this second return.  I want to stand in awe of the promise of God.

Abraham Joshua Heschel, a wise rabbi, wrote

Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. ....get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed." 

This is the goal of Christmas:  Love incarnate.  Relationship with God.  Redemption of sins.  Restoration of God's plan.  

Isaiah 5-8: The Messenger

I'm starting to think I'll finish writing about Isaiah sometime in February.  I read, I think about it, and I just can't come up with anything hopeful and Christmas-y to say.  It's a hard book, about rebellion and punishment, about hope and deliverance.  We have insight into the fulfillment of some of these passages (Jesus), but the book itself is a little heavy on the massive destruction about to hit Israel.

And so here it is.  I've read Isaiah 6 lots of times.  This is the passage where Isaiah, mourning the death of the king, goes into the temple and has a radical encounter with the living God.  He literally, not figuratively, sees the Lord, seated on a throne. Above the Lord are six-winged angels, covering their faces with two of the wings, covering their feet with two more wings, and then flying with the other two wings.  And they sing, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole world is filled with his glory."  (Isaiah 6:3).  The earth shakes.  The temple fills with smoke.  And Isaiah falls to the ground, convicted of his sin in the face of the glory of God.

The first time I read this I wondered how I would respond to Isaiah's experience.  I grew up with rational Christianity.  The kind you can explain with four spiritual laws.  The kind you can prove with science.  This is a very safe Christianity, with a predictable, rational God.

The thing I've learned is this--God is not rational.  He is not safe (Thank you, C.S. Lewis.), but we can trust him.  His ways are beyond tracing out, and we owe everything to him.

But back to Isaiah.  An angel flies down, touches a live coal to Isaiah's lips, and comforts him, saying, "You're guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for."

The Lord asks, "Whom shall I send?  And who will go for us?" And Isaiah, moved by the holiness of God, as we all would be, quickly volunteers, saying, "Here am I.  Send me."

So far, so good.  We've all heard songs like this and probably sung them.  I watched a video of Delirious  in concert, singing these words, and the concert goers are all jumping up and down, singing with them.  Matt Papa is a little more subdued, sitting in front of the crowd, playing his guitar.

Great songs.  Great message.

Isaiah's mission is a little tougher.  Think about the message Isaiah's asked to deliver:

Be ever hearing and never understanding. 

Be ever seeing, but never perceiving. 

Think about the prophecies of destruction.  The prophecies of hope that will only come after these people are long dead and gone.

That's not a message I want to deliver.  Those people are likely to kill me.

Of course, God's not asking me to deliver that message.  But my point is this: Am I so overwhelmed by the holiness of God that I'm willing to do whatever he asks me to do?  Even if it means changing the entire course of my life?  Even if it means walking into dangerous places?

I want to say, "Yes!  Here am I, Lord!  Send me!" but not unless I know it's true.  Not unless I can say "yes" without any qualifications.  And I'm not sure I can do that right now.  I hope that when that day comes, I will embrace whatever God asks me to do, but I just don't know.

And that brings me right back to where I started.  (I certainly hope I'm moving forward, even if it doesn't seem like it.)  How committed am I to the things of God?  How much do I love him?  Am I willing to follow him no matter where he leads?  Am I willing to keep seeking him so that he can prepare me for whatever he has planned for me?

John the Baptist lost his head.  Jesus was crucified.
Christians throughout history have been imprisoned for their obedience and have lost their lives.

One more thought before I move on.
How do I respond to the messenger?

I mean, how do I respond to messengers who deliver God's messages?
How do I respond when someone says something that convicts me of sin or challenges my actions?

The people of Israel closed their eyes and their hearts.  What will I do?

Isaiah 1-4: Silence. Alone and Abandoned

Last night in our Life Group, we talked about the times when we don't hear God's voice, when we don't feel his presence, when it just doesn't seem like he's around anymore.  Nobody said it, but I'll put it out there.  Sometimes we might feel like maybe he just doesn't exist.  And those past experiences hearing God's voice or feeling his presence?  Maybe we made them all up.

And then we talked about what to do during those times-how we can stay faithful when we don't feel like God is listening.  Sometimes we need to walk by faith, based on what God's taught us in the past, knowing that he's not really absent.  He's just asking us to trust him right now.  In the words of Denise, we just "keep on keeping on."  

Certainly we all experience these times.  In my experience, they are a part of a normal Christian life.  So we can continue to seek him, continue to worship him, continue to thank him, continue to obey him.  I grow uniquely during these times, and my rediscovery of the wonder and awe of serving God helps me to relate to people who don't yet have a relationship with God.  

There are a couple of other things we can do:

• Replace faith with legalism and ritual.  Go to church a lot.  Serve a lot.  Do all the right things.  Even make additional rules.  That we obey.  
• Walk away.  God's not around anyway so we might as well do whatever we want.

Sometimes these experiences come about because we've already walked away from God.  God is loving and patient.  He is compassionate and forgiving.  But at some point, if we reject him and his plans for our lives, we just won't sense his presence anymore.  We won't hear his voice.  It will be like he isn't even there.  

But he is.  Watching.  Waiting.  Planning his next move of redemption.  He wants to draw us to himself. 

And that's where we are in Isaiah.  The people have walked away from God.  They have rebelled.  Big time.  And yet they pretend everything's okay, and they continue to offer sacrifices, to observe feast days designed to remind them of God's holiness and what He's done in the past.  

They have replaced faith and worship with ritualism.  And God says, "I have no pleasure in the blood of bulls and lambs and goats . . . I can't bear your evil assemblies . . . They have become a burden to me; I am weary of bearing them.  When you spread our your hands in prayer, I will hide my eyes from you . . ." (Isaiah 1:11-15).  

I'm tired of watching you go through the motions of worship and service, but not really worshiping me or serving me.  I see what you do when no one else is looking.

Do you want my presence?  Do you want to hear my voice?  Stop doing wrong and learn to do right.  

Seek justice.

Encourage the oppressed. 

Defend the cause of the fatherless.

Plead the case of the widow.  (Isaiah 1:16-17)

These aren't the things we normally think of when we think "doing right."

I don't read The Message very often, but I like what Eugene Peterson writes here:

Quit your worship charades. I can't stand your trivial religious games:

Monthly conferences, weekly Sabbaths, special meetings—meetings, meetings, meetings—I can't stand one more!

Meetings for this, meetings for that. I hate them! You've worn me out!

I'm sick of your religion, religion, religion, while you go right on sinning.

When you put on your next prayer-performance, I'll be looking the other way.

No matter how long or loud or often you pray, I'll not be listening.

And do you know why? Because you've been tearing people to pieces, and your hands are bloody.

Go home and wash up. Clean up your act.

Sweep your lives clean of your evildoings so I don't have to look at them any longer.

Say no to wrong.  Learn to do good.

Work for justice. Help the down-and-out.

Stand up for the homeless. Go to bat for the defenseless.

Yeah.  And that's where the Israelites are at this point.  And God says to his prophet Isaiah, "I've had enough."  

Come now, let us reason together.  Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.  They they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool.  If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land.  But if you resist and rebel, you will be devoured by the sword.  

It's not too late, says the Lord to Isaiah.  Turn to me.  Obey me, and I will bless you.  But if you resist and rebel, I will remove my blessing and protection from you.  You will be eaten up by the nations around you.  

And we know the story.  The people of Judah "resist and rebel."  They are taken into captivity.  The prophets speak, and the people say, "Yeah, yeah.  We've heard that before.  But where is God?"  And so they do whatever they want until God just stops talking, and there is complete silence for 400 years.  

I try to picture what that's like for the people of Israel, the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who were promised so much, who experienced the greatness of God and ultimately rejected him.  I try to picture what life was like when Jesus was born.  Here are these people, they've returned to Israel, but now they're ruled by Romans.  And the Pharisees.  

They're waiting for the Promised One of Israel to return to deliver them oppression.  They're waiting for Jesus, but they don't even recognize him when he shows up.  He is present, but they don't see him.  He doesn't say the things they want him to say, or do the things they want him to do, and so it's like he's not even there.  

And I think we are a little bit like them.  If we've experienced God's presence, if we've seen him move in our lives, but then we get busy, doing "God's stuff" and "our stuff," or we decide it doesn't matter and we live our own lives, on our own terms.  But God compassionate and patient, slow to anger, abounding in love.  

And so here we are this Christmas.  Reading Isaiah.  Thinking about Jesus' birth.  And his life.  And his death.     Wanting to hear God's voice, wanting to experience his presence during the Christmas season.  

Will we take the time to listen?