3rd Sunday of Advent
December 15, 2019
Isaiah 35:1-10; Luke 1:46b-55
Last
March southern California’s desert experienced what is called a super-bloom.
You see, when the desert blooms, it goes all out. It’s not just a few flowers
here and a few there, half-hearted and partially hidden. Oh no, when the desert
blooms, it does it abundantly. And this past spring, it was so abundant that
the super-bloom could be seen from space! Here’s one of the pictures of it on
the screen.
This was a rare super-bloom, created by the perfect storm of what
individually are two quite harsh and undesirable conditions.[1]
First, these plants have to have prolonged dormancy, as in many wildflower
seeds must remain asleep through many seasons and decide to wake up at roughly
the same time after a long hibernation. So, all these flowers stayed dormant
for years, and didn’t bloom for years, and then decided to all bloom again at
the same time. The other major factor was that southern California had an
extra-long rainy season, followed by an unusually cold winter which locked the
moisture in. So, plants that don’t bloom for years combined with extra rain and
extra cold (nothing there that sounds good), and yet they produce this super-bloom
of flowers in the desert. They create this beautiful picture of joy, unabashed
joy. The poet John Keats wrote “a thing of beauty is a joy forever.” There are
more pictures online, if you want to google them after worship. They are
amazing.
And they give you a visual for what Isaiah’s talking
about in our passage this morning. Isaiah 35 begins with the desert rejoicing
and blooming, “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall
rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice
with joy and singing.” Here [gesture at screen] is what that looks like. The
desert isn’t really a place you think about blooming and blossoms, you tend to
think sand and cacti and barrenness, but here it is, definitely not always barren.
Now, it’s really weird, Isaiah chapter 35 seems out of place from its surrounding
chapters. Chapters 34 and 36 are not sunshine and rainbows, or flowers. Chapter
34 is about judgment and desert creatures meeting with hyenas. Chapter 36 is
about Assyria attacking and conquering Judah. Yet here in the middle is this
chapter, it’s only the ten verses we read this morning, and it’s about flowers
in the desert and rejoicing in the wilderness. This chapter doesn’t make sense
in its context. It interrupts the desolation going on around it. It’s as if, as
one commentary put it, “The Spirit hovered over the text and over the scribes:
“Put it here,” breathed the Spirit, “before anyone is ready. Interrupt the
narrative of despair.” So, here it is: a word that couldn’t wait until it might
make more sense.”[2] This
picture of beauty in the desert refuses to wait until things are better. And so
in the midst of a story of desolation and wilderness, here is chapter 35 with a
chorus of creation saying to one another, “Be Strong. Do not fear. Here is your
God.”
I
have to tell you, I love those words. Right there in the middle of the chapter,
“Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear! Here is your
God.’” They were life-changing to my family six years ago. They were an answer
to prayer. Six years ago, my husband and I were faced with the decision of
whether or not to move from North Carolina to Maryland. He’d been offered a
promotion with his company to a position we knew he was ready for and would
enjoy far more than what he had been doing. We were given a weekend to decide,
the weekend of the 3rd Sunday of Advent, when this Scripture reading
is assigned. At the time I was an associate pastor at a large church in Chapel
Hill and one of my duties in worship was to read the Scriptures at all three
services. So, three times, I read this passage. “Say to those who are of a
fearful heart;” my husband and I were fearful. Our oldest was 16 months old. We
knew we wanted a second child. Most of our family is (still) in North Carolina.
I had a couple contacts in Maryland from when I’d lived here years ago, but we
didn’t really know anyone. And God says, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your
God.” Once we took fear out of the equation, it made sense to move. This
passage is the reason I am your pastor; otherwise, we’d still be in North
Carolina! So, “Say to those who are of a fearful heart,” those who are in the
wilderness, in the desert, those who are discerning the next step, those who are
in the midst of desolation and despair, say to them “Be strong, do not fear!
Here is your God.” Isn’t that the word we all need? In the midst of chaos and
grief, the desert will conspire to bloom. The wilderness will rejoice. It’s
odd, it doesn’t make sense given the context, but it will happen. There will be
joy.
At the end of the chapter, it says “A highway will be
there, and it will be called the Holy Way… it shall be for God’s people; no
traveler… will go astray.” This highway for God’s people is the way home, the
way of salvation. “Everlasting joy will
be upon their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and
sighing will flee away.” Talk about unabashed joy. There in the blossoming
desert will be a highway for God’s people where joy will abound. Joy will crown
their heads. And they will be overwhelmed, not by lists or medical bills or
loneliness or grief or insecurity, no, they will be overwhelmed by joy. Isn’t that good news? Isn’t that a
promise to hold on tight to? Yesterday may have been wilderness. Tomorrow may
be wilderness again. But today is
chapter 35, today is the day when the
desert blooms and you are overwhelmed by joy
and it’s a good day.
And isn’t that good news for Mary, who’s in a wilderness
of her own, pregnant and unwed. She knows what the Holy Spirit told her, and
she knows what others are saying, anyway. Her heart could be quite fearful, and
yet she sings out with unabashed joy this song called the Magnificat, from the
first word in Latin. “My soul magnifies the Lord. My spirit rejoices in God my
Savior.” God is great. God has done and will do great things. Holy is our God. That’s
what Mary is saying as a pregnant, unwed teenager. She’s singing about joy. It
takes courage and love to sing our songs of joy while in the midst of suffering
and in the wilderness. It’s not the easiest thing to do and it probably gets
her just as many weird and dirty looks as her pregnant belly does. Yet her song
is truly one of joy. It’s not like those unhelpful sayings that seem to be joyful, but actually aren’t.
Do you know what I mean?
Artist Emily McDowell was 24 when she was diagnosed with
stage 3 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. After 9 months of chemo and radiation, she went
into remission and so far is still cancer-free. However, she received some
terrible responses after her own diagnosis that now she designs irreverent
greeting cards that say things like, “There is no good card for this. I’m so
sorry.” Or, “When life gives
you lemons, I won’t tell you a story about my cousin’s friend who died of
lemons.” Because that’s not really helpful, is it? Yet when we hear about
lemons, or whatever it is, our brain naturally connects with what else we know
about lemons and then usually it’s out of our mouths before we’ve stopped to
think about whether we’re saying something helpful and kind. The motto for
Emily McDowell’s greeting cards is that they’re “for the relationships we
really have.”[3] Another
one of my favorites says, “Thinking about you is like remembering I have ice
cream in the freezer.” I don’t know if you like ice cream like I like ice
cream, but that gives me the warm fuzzies. Or, in other words, a feeling of
comfort and joy. It’s not a trite saying. It’s not one that makes you question
your faith in God. Another of Emily McDowell’s empathy cards says, “No card can
make this better. But I’m giving you one anyway.” It’s the acknowledgment that
words sometimes fail us in the wilderness, or reaching out to someone else in
the wilderness. And all we really want to say is, “I’m here for you. I love
you. I’m not going anywhere. And God has not abandoned you, either.” Mary knew
God had not abandoned her. And in the middle of this unexpected pregnancy, with
all the usual discomforts of pregnancy, Mary sings with joy. She focuses on
joy.
We like
to think that if we can get through the suffering, then joy will come, that
it’s an either/or. After the operation, the pain level will go down to zero.
After I get through this marathon, then I get to relax. We like Psalm 30 that
says “Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.” And we
tend to read it as either/or: weeping or joy, when it’s really a both/and. The
truth is that these deep feelings get tangled up together. That’s why we cry
tears of joy. That’s why this scene of unabashed joy in the desert is found in the desert. Strong emotions have more
in common than a strong emotion and a lukewarm emotion. Joy is a strong emotion. And there are times when that’s what we
feel even when it makes no sense with our surroundings. We have a great day in
the midst of a bunch of lousy ones. Sometimes that makes us feel guilty.
Sometimes that one great day is what gets us through all the lousy ones. I
don’t know what your wilderness is, whether it’s medical-related or
relationship-related or just having a fearful heart. In the midst of that, hear
these tidings of comfort and joy; true, unabashed joy that interrupts your
“regularly scheduled programming.” Thank God!
No comments:
Post a Comment