Paving the way
Commentary
Object:
It's early December. Thanksgiving is past and we have recently turned the calendar page to the month that belongs to Christmas. And it does still belong to Christmas. Even in an increasingly secularized society, the entire month is still somehow dominated by that one holiday.
The music, the television shows and specials, and the movies featured on cable movie channels all reflect a seasonal flavor. Likewise, the decorations appearing in stores, in homes, and on streets all bear witness to the fact that Christmas is coming. The broader culture is admittedly not as predominantly Christian as it was some decades ago and so we see evidence of the holiday being watered down. The term "Christmas" is excluded from schools' schedules and cashiers' greetings. Snowmen, Santa figures, and reindeer are more common, while wise men and shepherds appear on few yards. Yet for all the assaults and denials, the weeks leading up to December 25 still retain an atmosphere of anticipation and busy preparation.
An understanding of Advent should come naturally to us, therefore, for the season of Advent is all about anticipation and preparation. While we may find it difficult to climb into the thoughts and feelings of those BC generations that awaited the promised Messiah, we do have at least a short-term sense for their experience. For we know what it is to look forward to and get ready for Christmas.
So, on this early December Sunday, the pervading sense of anticipation and preparation will serve us well as we unpack three grand scriptures for the season of Advent.
Isaiah 40:1-11
The apostle Paul said that all scripture is inspired by God (2 Timothy 3:16), and I believe him. Yet we discover that not all scripture is equally inspiring to us. We may labor to squeeze a few drops of inspiration and application out of some portions of Leviticus or 1 Chronicles. And on the other hand, a selection like this one from Isaiah 40 is so full of beauty, power, truth, and preaching possibilities that we are beside ourselves with the challenge.
First, of course, many members of our congregations will feel that they have heard these words before. It may not be that they have personally read Isaiah so many times or even heard this passage preached so frequently. But Handel's Messiah has made famous about a half-dozen phrases and lines from these eleven verses and so we can hardly hear the words without hearing music as well.
Setting aside the music, however, this passage invites us to give some serious thought to the issue of words. Specifically, we want to reflect on the importance of the words that come from God. We will consider that potential theme in more detail below.
Also within the larger context of all three passages this week, we will give broader attention elsewhere to the theme of the decisive day of God's action. Clearly such a day is anticipated by this prophecy and that day is our primary theme this week.
Within this narrower treatment of just the Isaiah text, however, I find myself especially drawn to the revealed nature of God. I have often encouraged Bible students to take a passage of scripture and ask themselves, "If these verses were all that I knew about God, what would I know about him?" And in the case of these verses, we would know quite a lot!
First, we see that he is a God of justice and mercy. The sins of the people were not winked at and overlooked, on the one hand. On the other, this just God is not insatiably wrathful, for he has words of comfort -- and hope for the future -- for his recovering sinners.
Second, we note that this is a God who calls his shots. That is to say, he does not choose to act entirely in secret, though that would certainly be his prerogative. Instead, however, he chooses to reveal his plans and purpose to his people. He tells them in advance what he intends to do and thereby voluntarily binds himself to them by making promises.
Third, we see a picture of a God who is the ultimate authority. For it is not merely that his power is overwhelming. No, there is the impact and eternity of his words. That is a part of the theme we shall explore more below.
Finally, we have painted a portrait of a God who is both powerful and gentle. "He comes with might," on the one hand and he also "gather(s) the lambs in his arms… and gently leads the mother sheep." If he had only the former trait, he would be a fearsome, cosmic terror. If he performed only the latter, he might be a divine milquetoast. But it is precisely because he is both tremendous and tender that we can rejoice, be encouraged, and feel safe.
2 Peter 3:8-15a
It's hard to determine whether this passage is better suited for Peter's day or for ours.
On the one hand, you sense that Peter's audience was experiencing some genuine bewilderment about the delay of Christ's return. After all, everything else that he had said would happen had happened in fairly short order. It was probably just a few months between the first time Jesus predicted to his disciples what would happen to him in Jerusalem and the fulfillment of that prediction. He said that he would be raised after the leaders in Jerusalem had had their way with him and by the third day he was alive again. He told the disciples to tarry in Jerusalem until the Holy Spirit would come and in a matter of weeks it had happened. So how was it, then, that so many years had passed since he said he would return? This was an uncommon delay and the first-century believers were clearly confused by it.
To the puzzled people of that day, therefore, Peter expressed reassurance that "the Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness."
The believers of our day, on the other hand, are mostly in a quite different place emotionally and theologically. Broadly speaking, I think it's fair to say that our people are not at all surprised by the Lord's delay in returning. On the contrary, most of them would be surprised if he did return today or tomorrow.
It is to our low-expectation generation, therefore, that Peter's sober warning is especially appropriate. He "will come like a thief," Peter writes, conveying a sense of both suddenness and surprise.
In a way, however, neither a high nor a low level of expectation is really the issue for Peter because his message is not about either an imminent return or a delayed one. The apostle's logic about God's days and our millennia move that whole issue off the table. The real question, you see, is not about God's timing but rather about people's readiness -- our readiness. For Peter, it is sufficient just to know that the day is coming. And whenever it comes, he assumes that it will catch us by surprise. Accordingly, he moves his audience to the more practical question: "What sort of persons ought you to be...?" Lest the people of either Peter's day or ours get bogged down in speculation, the apostle urges us to focus instead on preparation.
If you know the boss might walk into the room at any moment, what sort of worker ought you to be? If you know that a police officer might be in any car on the road, what sort of a driver ought you to be? And if you know that the Lord's return, the day of judgment, and the cataclysmic shift from the present age to the eternal reign of God could happen on any day, what sort of a person ought you to be?
Peter employs potent words to help us answer that question. Holy, godly, righteous, spotless, and unblemished -- this is the heady vocabulary the apostle uses to paint the picture for us and the picture he paints is meant to be a picture of us.
It is a passage, you see, that is just as essential for our day as it was for Peter's.
Mark 1:1-8
Mark is the shortest of the four gospels, and we see in these opening verses some evidence of his brevity. After only eight verses, Mark has already introduced his theme and the ministry of John the Baptist. Matthew and Luke don't get around to telling about John's work until chapter 3 of their gospels.
Of course, we note that Mark gets to John more quickly because, unlike his synoptic partners, he does not bother with the Christmas story. And that fact helps to underscore an observation that may be shocking to our people: namely, that only two of the four gospel writers bother to tell about Christmas but all four report about John the Baptist. While we spend a whole month thinking, reading, and singing about Christmas, how much time do we devote to thinking about John?
For Mark, the story of John is the beginning of the good news about Jesus. That's a remarkable narrative choice, and it is no doubt born out of a theological paradigm. That starting place deserves some thought on the part of our people. It would be worth putting the question to them: If you were writing a gospel, with what story, event, saying, or character would you begin? Well, Mark begins with John and that suggests to us that John deserves our attention.
Meanwhile, Mark joins Matthew and Luke in the expressed conviction that John's work is the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy. We may become nonchalant about the whole idea of New Testament events fulfilling Old Testament prophecy, but the majority of those events involve Jesus' birth, life, and death. How many other New Testament characters, however, can make the claim that the Old Testament anticipates them?
In addition to the explicit reference to Isaiah, Mark also includes an implicit reference to Elijah. When that Old Testament prophet sent a message to King Ahaziah of Israel, the king asked the messengers, "What sort of man was he who came to meet you and told you these things?" The messengers reported to the king, "A hairy man, with a leather belt around his waist." And when Ahaziah heard that description, he concluded immediately, "It is Elijah the Tishbite" (2 Kings 1:7-8).
Inasmuch as Elijah was recognizable by his apparel, therefore, perhaps Mark expects us to recognize him here by his apparel as well -- "John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist." For the Old Testament ends with the promise of Elijah's return (Malachi 4:5-6), and the angel who announces John's birth makes the connection to Elijah (Luke 1:17). Furthermore, Jesus himself confirms the suspicion that John was Elijah (Matthew 17:10-13).
Finally, John's role, according to Mark's understanding of Isaiah, is to "prepare the way of the Lord." He is the forerunner, the advance man. He is the lineman who blocks for the runner, the overture that anticipates the performance, and the emcee that introduces the guest of honor. As we shall see below, that role is significant not only for John 2,000 years ago but also for us today.
Application
We will explore the Isaiah text in a bit more detail below. For the present treatment, however, suffice it to say that Isaiah establishes for us the baseline image: namely, that the Lord's coming requires preparation. And that fundamental principle should not be overlooked or shortchanged, for it is not self-evident.
Why should it be necessary that his coming be preceded in any particular way? Isn't it sufficient for him simply to appear -- in all of his beauty, love, and splendor -- and for human beings to respond accordingly? Not according to the prophecy of Isaiah, nor according to the anecdotal evidence of the gospels. Instead, there must be a way prepared, a highway made straight, and a declaration of his arrival.
The topographical references in Isaiah, of course, smack of a certain historical context. Biblical scholars and students have long associated the highway in the wilderness with the Jews' return from their Babylonian exile. And in the gospels' reference to John the Baptist, it is not the highway that is in the wilderness so much as the voice crying. And so the topographical imagery is connected to the site and setting of John's ministry.
Yet there is a larger, spiritual truth involved here. For all of the imagery -- a highway where there was none, mountains leveled, valleys raised, and rough places smoothed -- all of it suggests the removal of obstacles. That is the nature of the preparation for his coming: that he should be unimpeded and that brings us to the real work of John.
John the Baptist was no civil engineer. He was not working road construction, blasting through mountains and building bridges. He was preparing the way, to be sure, but his was a spiritual endeavor: to "turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God... to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord" (Luke 1:16-17).
So the task of preparation is about removing obstacles, but not literal mountains and rough places. Instead, the spiritual impediments required "a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins." This is the ground-laying work that John did, along with the declaration that one "is coming after me."
Yet if we leave the theme to the Old Testament and gospel lections, we will leave ourselves largely out of the picture. We and our people are merely onlookers to the task of preparation if the task was anticipated by Isaiah and completed by John. The language of our epistle passage, however, invites a broader application.
Peter and his audience are also involved in a time of waiting, specifically, waiting for Christ to come. Unlike the natural subject of Advent and Christmas, however, they were not waiting for his coming at Bethlehem but rather his coming in glory. And this will not be characterized by the "how silently, how silently"1 quality of the gentle incarnation tucked away in a little town. Rather, this will be a cosmic spectacle, when "the heavens will pass away with a loud noise," and everything will be "set ablaze" and "dissolved with fire."
This, of course, is the point in the story where we come in. For we, too, are waiting for the same return that Peter and company awaited. Yet, as we noted above, our waiting is of a different quality than theirs, for they were full of expectation, while we are nearly devoid of it. They were surprised that he had not returned yesterday, while our generation would be more surprised if he did return tomorrow.
Still, the larger truths and themes apply. It should be a time of anticipation -- looking forward with excitement. And not only "waiting for" but "hastening the coming of the day of God," which is to say that the need for preparation still remains. We are not meant to be onlookers but participants. John is not a historical curiosity for us but rather a role model for us. For we, in our day, are called to "prepare the way of the Lord" -- by removing all obstacles and by declaring that he is coming!
__________
1. Phillips Brooks, "O Little Town of Bethlehem," United Methodist Hymnal #230.
An Alternative Application
Isaiah 40:1-11. "Good News in Any Century." While not all such considerations need to be expressed from the pulpit, we should acknowledge and understand for ourselves that the historical-critical issues surrounding our Old Testament passage are complex.
Were these verses written by Isaiah, the eighth-century prophet from Jerusalem, to whom is also attributed the previous 39 chapters? If so, then what begins in and follows this chapter represents a dramatic change of tone and emphasis, as well as an anticipation of a very different historical context than the prophet's own. Of course, that is often the nature of prophecy.
Or, on the other hand, shall we follow the path of many modern scholars and presume that this passage begins an entire section of material that came from a later hand? Perhaps some Deutero-Isaiah spoke comfort to a contemporary generation of exiles, and his message was appended to that of the famous eighth-century prophet.
In either case, the truth remains that the author is looking beyond his own time. For whether it was written in the eighth-century or the sixth BC, this passage speaks far beyond the scope of its own day. At the point of authorship, 200 years is a vast difference. At the distant point of fulfillment, however, those two centuries collapse into insignificance. If the destination is faraway Jupiter, then it makes very little difference from what spot on earth the rocket is launched.
The true fulfillment of this text was far away, indeed. Yes, the exiles in Babylon needed to hear tender words of comfort. But it was later group of exiles -- i.e., the contemporaries of John the Baptist -- who would witness the voice-in-the-wilderness ministry, his preparation of "a highway for our God," and his declaration that "here is your God!" And it is a larger group of exiles -- i.e., all of humanity -- that needs to hear that the Lord God comes with might, he comes with gentle care, and he comes with his reward.
If Isaiah 40 was good news for its original audience -- whether in the eighth or sixth century BC -- it is even better news for our audience in the twenty-first-century AD. For a captor and oppressor like ancient Babylon was bound to be finite and fleeting. But the bondage and oppression of sin and death are universal and inescapable. How good it is to know, therefore, that our God comes with power over his enemies and comes with tenderness toward his people.
The music, the television shows and specials, and the movies featured on cable movie channels all reflect a seasonal flavor. Likewise, the decorations appearing in stores, in homes, and on streets all bear witness to the fact that Christmas is coming. The broader culture is admittedly not as predominantly Christian as it was some decades ago and so we see evidence of the holiday being watered down. The term "Christmas" is excluded from schools' schedules and cashiers' greetings. Snowmen, Santa figures, and reindeer are more common, while wise men and shepherds appear on few yards. Yet for all the assaults and denials, the weeks leading up to December 25 still retain an atmosphere of anticipation and busy preparation.
An understanding of Advent should come naturally to us, therefore, for the season of Advent is all about anticipation and preparation. While we may find it difficult to climb into the thoughts and feelings of those BC generations that awaited the promised Messiah, we do have at least a short-term sense for their experience. For we know what it is to look forward to and get ready for Christmas.
So, on this early December Sunday, the pervading sense of anticipation and preparation will serve us well as we unpack three grand scriptures for the season of Advent.
Isaiah 40:1-11
The apostle Paul said that all scripture is inspired by God (2 Timothy 3:16), and I believe him. Yet we discover that not all scripture is equally inspiring to us. We may labor to squeeze a few drops of inspiration and application out of some portions of Leviticus or 1 Chronicles. And on the other hand, a selection like this one from Isaiah 40 is so full of beauty, power, truth, and preaching possibilities that we are beside ourselves with the challenge.
First, of course, many members of our congregations will feel that they have heard these words before. It may not be that they have personally read Isaiah so many times or even heard this passage preached so frequently. But Handel's Messiah has made famous about a half-dozen phrases and lines from these eleven verses and so we can hardly hear the words without hearing music as well.
Setting aside the music, however, this passage invites us to give some serious thought to the issue of words. Specifically, we want to reflect on the importance of the words that come from God. We will consider that potential theme in more detail below.
Also within the larger context of all three passages this week, we will give broader attention elsewhere to the theme of the decisive day of God's action. Clearly such a day is anticipated by this prophecy and that day is our primary theme this week.
Within this narrower treatment of just the Isaiah text, however, I find myself especially drawn to the revealed nature of God. I have often encouraged Bible students to take a passage of scripture and ask themselves, "If these verses were all that I knew about God, what would I know about him?" And in the case of these verses, we would know quite a lot!
First, we see that he is a God of justice and mercy. The sins of the people were not winked at and overlooked, on the one hand. On the other, this just God is not insatiably wrathful, for he has words of comfort -- and hope for the future -- for his recovering sinners.
Second, we note that this is a God who calls his shots. That is to say, he does not choose to act entirely in secret, though that would certainly be his prerogative. Instead, however, he chooses to reveal his plans and purpose to his people. He tells them in advance what he intends to do and thereby voluntarily binds himself to them by making promises.
Third, we see a picture of a God who is the ultimate authority. For it is not merely that his power is overwhelming. No, there is the impact and eternity of his words. That is a part of the theme we shall explore more below.
Finally, we have painted a portrait of a God who is both powerful and gentle. "He comes with might," on the one hand and he also "gather(s) the lambs in his arms… and gently leads the mother sheep." If he had only the former trait, he would be a fearsome, cosmic terror. If he performed only the latter, he might be a divine milquetoast. But it is precisely because he is both tremendous and tender that we can rejoice, be encouraged, and feel safe.
2 Peter 3:8-15a
It's hard to determine whether this passage is better suited for Peter's day or for ours.
On the one hand, you sense that Peter's audience was experiencing some genuine bewilderment about the delay of Christ's return. After all, everything else that he had said would happen had happened in fairly short order. It was probably just a few months between the first time Jesus predicted to his disciples what would happen to him in Jerusalem and the fulfillment of that prediction. He said that he would be raised after the leaders in Jerusalem had had their way with him and by the third day he was alive again. He told the disciples to tarry in Jerusalem until the Holy Spirit would come and in a matter of weeks it had happened. So how was it, then, that so many years had passed since he said he would return? This was an uncommon delay and the first-century believers were clearly confused by it.
To the puzzled people of that day, therefore, Peter expressed reassurance that "the Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness."
The believers of our day, on the other hand, are mostly in a quite different place emotionally and theologically. Broadly speaking, I think it's fair to say that our people are not at all surprised by the Lord's delay in returning. On the contrary, most of them would be surprised if he did return today or tomorrow.
It is to our low-expectation generation, therefore, that Peter's sober warning is especially appropriate. He "will come like a thief," Peter writes, conveying a sense of both suddenness and surprise.
In a way, however, neither a high nor a low level of expectation is really the issue for Peter because his message is not about either an imminent return or a delayed one. The apostle's logic about God's days and our millennia move that whole issue off the table. The real question, you see, is not about God's timing but rather about people's readiness -- our readiness. For Peter, it is sufficient just to know that the day is coming. And whenever it comes, he assumes that it will catch us by surprise. Accordingly, he moves his audience to the more practical question: "What sort of persons ought you to be...?" Lest the people of either Peter's day or ours get bogged down in speculation, the apostle urges us to focus instead on preparation.
If you know the boss might walk into the room at any moment, what sort of worker ought you to be? If you know that a police officer might be in any car on the road, what sort of a driver ought you to be? And if you know that the Lord's return, the day of judgment, and the cataclysmic shift from the present age to the eternal reign of God could happen on any day, what sort of a person ought you to be?
Peter employs potent words to help us answer that question. Holy, godly, righteous, spotless, and unblemished -- this is the heady vocabulary the apostle uses to paint the picture for us and the picture he paints is meant to be a picture of us.
It is a passage, you see, that is just as essential for our day as it was for Peter's.
Mark 1:1-8
Mark is the shortest of the four gospels, and we see in these opening verses some evidence of his brevity. After only eight verses, Mark has already introduced his theme and the ministry of John the Baptist. Matthew and Luke don't get around to telling about John's work until chapter 3 of their gospels.
Of course, we note that Mark gets to John more quickly because, unlike his synoptic partners, he does not bother with the Christmas story. And that fact helps to underscore an observation that may be shocking to our people: namely, that only two of the four gospel writers bother to tell about Christmas but all four report about John the Baptist. While we spend a whole month thinking, reading, and singing about Christmas, how much time do we devote to thinking about John?
For Mark, the story of John is the beginning of the good news about Jesus. That's a remarkable narrative choice, and it is no doubt born out of a theological paradigm. That starting place deserves some thought on the part of our people. It would be worth putting the question to them: If you were writing a gospel, with what story, event, saying, or character would you begin? Well, Mark begins with John and that suggests to us that John deserves our attention.
Meanwhile, Mark joins Matthew and Luke in the expressed conviction that John's work is the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy. We may become nonchalant about the whole idea of New Testament events fulfilling Old Testament prophecy, but the majority of those events involve Jesus' birth, life, and death. How many other New Testament characters, however, can make the claim that the Old Testament anticipates them?
In addition to the explicit reference to Isaiah, Mark also includes an implicit reference to Elijah. When that Old Testament prophet sent a message to King Ahaziah of Israel, the king asked the messengers, "What sort of man was he who came to meet you and told you these things?" The messengers reported to the king, "A hairy man, with a leather belt around his waist." And when Ahaziah heard that description, he concluded immediately, "It is Elijah the Tishbite" (2 Kings 1:7-8).
Inasmuch as Elijah was recognizable by his apparel, therefore, perhaps Mark expects us to recognize him here by his apparel as well -- "John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist." For the Old Testament ends with the promise of Elijah's return (Malachi 4:5-6), and the angel who announces John's birth makes the connection to Elijah (Luke 1:17). Furthermore, Jesus himself confirms the suspicion that John was Elijah (Matthew 17:10-13).
Finally, John's role, according to Mark's understanding of Isaiah, is to "prepare the way of the Lord." He is the forerunner, the advance man. He is the lineman who blocks for the runner, the overture that anticipates the performance, and the emcee that introduces the guest of honor. As we shall see below, that role is significant not only for John 2,000 years ago but also for us today.
Application
We will explore the Isaiah text in a bit more detail below. For the present treatment, however, suffice it to say that Isaiah establishes for us the baseline image: namely, that the Lord's coming requires preparation. And that fundamental principle should not be overlooked or shortchanged, for it is not self-evident.
Why should it be necessary that his coming be preceded in any particular way? Isn't it sufficient for him simply to appear -- in all of his beauty, love, and splendor -- and for human beings to respond accordingly? Not according to the prophecy of Isaiah, nor according to the anecdotal evidence of the gospels. Instead, there must be a way prepared, a highway made straight, and a declaration of his arrival.
The topographical references in Isaiah, of course, smack of a certain historical context. Biblical scholars and students have long associated the highway in the wilderness with the Jews' return from their Babylonian exile. And in the gospels' reference to John the Baptist, it is not the highway that is in the wilderness so much as the voice crying. And so the topographical imagery is connected to the site and setting of John's ministry.
Yet there is a larger, spiritual truth involved here. For all of the imagery -- a highway where there was none, mountains leveled, valleys raised, and rough places smoothed -- all of it suggests the removal of obstacles. That is the nature of the preparation for his coming: that he should be unimpeded and that brings us to the real work of John.
John the Baptist was no civil engineer. He was not working road construction, blasting through mountains and building bridges. He was preparing the way, to be sure, but his was a spiritual endeavor: to "turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God... to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord" (Luke 1:16-17).
So the task of preparation is about removing obstacles, but not literal mountains and rough places. Instead, the spiritual impediments required "a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins." This is the ground-laying work that John did, along with the declaration that one "is coming after me."
Yet if we leave the theme to the Old Testament and gospel lections, we will leave ourselves largely out of the picture. We and our people are merely onlookers to the task of preparation if the task was anticipated by Isaiah and completed by John. The language of our epistle passage, however, invites a broader application.
Peter and his audience are also involved in a time of waiting, specifically, waiting for Christ to come. Unlike the natural subject of Advent and Christmas, however, they were not waiting for his coming at Bethlehem but rather his coming in glory. And this will not be characterized by the "how silently, how silently"1 quality of the gentle incarnation tucked away in a little town. Rather, this will be a cosmic spectacle, when "the heavens will pass away with a loud noise," and everything will be "set ablaze" and "dissolved with fire."
This, of course, is the point in the story where we come in. For we, too, are waiting for the same return that Peter and company awaited. Yet, as we noted above, our waiting is of a different quality than theirs, for they were full of expectation, while we are nearly devoid of it. They were surprised that he had not returned yesterday, while our generation would be more surprised if he did return tomorrow.
Still, the larger truths and themes apply. It should be a time of anticipation -- looking forward with excitement. And not only "waiting for" but "hastening the coming of the day of God," which is to say that the need for preparation still remains. We are not meant to be onlookers but participants. John is not a historical curiosity for us but rather a role model for us. For we, in our day, are called to "prepare the way of the Lord" -- by removing all obstacles and by declaring that he is coming!
__________
1. Phillips Brooks, "O Little Town of Bethlehem," United Methodist Hymnal #230.
An Alternative Application
Isaiah 40:1-11. "Good News in Any Century." While not all such considerations need to be expressed from the pulpit, we should acknowledge and understand for ourselves that the historical-critical issues surrounding our Old Testament passage are complex.
Were these verses written by Isaiah, the eighth-century prophet from Jerusalem, to whom is also attributed the previous 39 chapters? If so, then what begins in and follows this chapter represents a dramatic change of tone and emphasis, as well as an anticipation of a very different historical context than the prophet's own. Of course, that is often the nature of prophecy.
Or, on the other hand, shall we follow the path of many modern scholars and presume that this passage begins an entire section of material that came from a later hand? Perhaps some Deutero-Isaiah spoke comfort to a contemporary generation of exiles, and his message was appended to that of the famous eighth-century prophet.
In either case, the truth remains that the author is looking beyond his own time. For whether it was written in the eighth-century or the sixth BC, this passage speaks far beyond the scope of its own day. At the point of authorship, 200 years is a vast difference. At the distant point of fulfillment, however, those two centuries collapse into insignificance. If the destination is faraway Jupiter, then it makes very little difference from what spot on earth the rocket is launched.
The true fulfillment of this text was far away, indeed. Yes, the exiles in Babylon needed to hear tender words of comfort. But it was later group of exiles -- i.e., the contemporaries of John the Baptist -- who would witness the voice-in-the-wilderness ministry, his preparation of "a highway for our God," and his declaration that "here is your God!" And it is a larger group of exiles -- i.e., all of humanity -- that needs to hear that the Lord God comes with might, he comes with gentle care, and he comes with his reward.
If Isaiah 40 was good news for its original audience -- whether in the eighth or sixth century BC -- it is even better news for our audience in the twenty-first-century AD. For a captor and oppressor like ancient Babylon was bound to be finite and fleeting. But the bondage and oppression of sin and death are universal and inescapable. How good it is to know, therefore, that our God comes with power over his enemies and comes with tenderness toward his people.
