God always comes
Commentary
During my growing up years we had no family automobile. My father walked to work and home again. During World War II his routine at the local milk plant was somewhat irregular. As children we tried to guess when he would come. If we were wrong, we didn't worry. He always came.
If it had been a good day, if I had tended to my duties, if I had gotten along reasonably well with my brother and six sisters, I looked forward to his coming. In fact, one of my fondest childhood memories is of running to meet him, grasping his strong, calloused hand, and skipping happily at his side for the last block of his walk home.
On the other hand, if it had been a bad day, if I had neglected my responsibilities, if I had fought with my brother and sisters, if I had a poor report from school, I dreaded his coming. I hoped he would be delayed or that I could find an excuse to be away when he walked in the back door. It did no good. He always came.
There is no doubt about the coming of the Lord. Isaiah, John the Baptist and Paul are all certain of it. It is not a question of "if" but only "when." All three know that God will have the last word. God always comes.
For those who are expectant, who long for the coming, its prospect can only be good. The Lord's coming is a source of comfort and hope for believers. They stand on tiptoes, looking down the road, straining for the first glimpses of his arrival.
For those who are not ready, who have wasted their days, its prospect can only bring fear. The Lord's coming is a source of dread and hopelessness for unbelievers. They cower in the shadows, wishing the day could be delayed, looking only to the events of the moment in the hope that they can keep themselves distracted from his coming. It does no good. God always comes.
Because we do not know the exact hour, we should always be looking.
Grist For The Mill
Isaiah 11:1-10
The line of David is in trouble and with it the nation. Isaiah knows it, and so do others. The giants -- Saul, David, Solomon, Uzziah -- have fallen. Now there is only the dead stump. Or the apparently dead stump. Others have despaired. But not Isaiah. He is foolish enough to believe that out of this burned-out remnant of a once mighty tree a shoot will emerge.
We cannot know exactly what or who Isaiah had in mind when he spoke of the one to come. Every new king in Israel, as is true of every new president in the U.S., was greeted with high hopes. If Isaiah is writing to a people in exile, a people with no king at all, his expectation of a messiah may be greater than simply another king. Whatever the case, Christians who read this text in the light of the New Testament believe that Isaiah is the first and possibly the only prophet who speaks of the personal Messiah we meet in Jesus of Nazareth.
Isaiah sees the coming age to be ushered in by this Messiah as more than a time of moral adjustment. This will be an age of radical restoration and fundamental redemption. The poor will receive mercy. Those treated with contempt will get justice. Even nature will feel the difference. We hear echoes of this hope in Paul who says that "creation waits with eager longing (to) be set free from its bondage to decay ..." (Romans 8:19, 21).
When will all this happen? The answer eludes us today, as it did a week ago. But what do we do in the meantime? Jurgen Moltmann suggests that "creative hope" is the way. Like the Suffering Servant who emerges later in Isaiah, the Christian church lives on the promise that "makes us ready to expand ourselves unrestrainedly and unreservedly in love and in the work of reconciliation of the world with God and his future." We are called to live a life "shaped creatively by love, in order that (others) may live together ... more justly, more humanely, more peacefully, and in mutual recognition of their human dignity and freedom." (Jurgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, Harper & Row, 1965, pp. 337-338.)
Romans 15:4-13
Paul and the early Christians wrestled with difficult questions. If Christ fulfilled the promises of Isaiah and other prophets, how should they look to the future? How should they live between now and the time of his coming again? Paul's answer is that their hope should be rooted in "the encouragement of the scriptures" (15:4). The "scriptures" are no doubt our present Old Testament writings. What unfolds here is an understanding that each revelation of God is never an end in itself. Like the opening of a large flower blossom, each petal, complete in itself, sets the stage for the next. No matter how significant one appearance of God may be, it prepares us for another. We are always living between the ages. The kingdom is already here; the kingdom is yet to come.
If this is so, how shall we live? Paul's answer is as relevant for us as it was for the believers in Rome: "Live in harmony," "welcome one another," "glorify God for his mercy," "sing praises to (God's) name," "rejoice," "praise the Lord," "abound in hope." Anchored in his first coming -- the past, confident of his second coming -- in the future, we are set free to live for God and for others -- the present.
It is appropriate that many Christian communities will remember the life and witness of Teresa of Avila on December 14. Few have combined such an intense and mystical devotional life with an equally purposeful resolve to address the most practical and mundane issues of daily life. Her sense of the divine did not alienate her from a call to duty in the ordinary matters of everyday affairs. Deeply spiritual, she also was full of wit, candor and affection. So it should be with all who are certain that the God who will have the last word is also concerned about what happens today.
Matthew 3:1-12
Repentance. John the Baptist says it is the only way to prepare for our Lord's coming. Repentance means a complete change, of heart, of mind, of attitude. It is a reorientation of one's life. Nothing less can be called repentance. John is speaking to some who are accustomed to making minor adjustments here and there. It will not do. To prepare for the One who is to come, there must be complete change.
That repentance has happened should be evident in one's life. "Bear fruits worthy of repentance" (3:8). J.B. Phillips paraphrases it this way: "Go and do something to show that your hearts are really changed." According to Matthew, some of Jesus' hearers evaded the question by appealing to their pedigree. They put the preservation of their way of life above any possibilities for reform.
But according to Luke, some who heard John's preaching were cut to the heart and asked, "What must we do?" Maybe they hoped John would tell them to say they were sorry for something wrong they had done. But John's answer was clear, specific and demanding. If you have two coats, give one away. If you have food, share it. If you are responsible for the welfare of others, be fair and just. If in any way you have deprived someone of the basic needs of life, restore it.
How much will the average adult church member of a Christian congregation in America spend for Christmas gifts in the next two weeks? $100? $150? Depending on where you live, it could be less, or much, much more. In a congregation of 200 adult members that translates into somewhere between $10,000 and $25,000. Measure that against what these same members will give for the needs of others. Is there any doubt that we still need to hear the fiery words of John, calling for us to repent?
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Isaiah 11:1-10
The grave was new. Dug as they are now with power equipment, it had been opened like an incision, absorbed its contents and then closed again. The only evidence of violation was the lines between the rolls of sod, stitches soon to disappear.
The boy was her only grandson. He had gone with his parents to her bed as she lay there hospitalized. The cancer had first appeared as a pea-sized hardness in a breast. In later examination, they found breast cells all over her body, multiplying madly. As hopes dwindled, she had eyes only for the grandchild. The sound of his voice, his appearance beside her bed arrested her drifting consciousness, focused her remaining energies and surfaced the abiding tenderness of her love.
She was buried on a torrid afternoon. A deaf daughter done in with loss had gotten away from the family, climbed onto the casket and signed her grief into the shimmering sun, her groans and tears setting exclamation points.
Part of the family returned at evening, stopping by to check the finalities. The boy was with them, carrying a Christmas truck, the paint now chipped and the body dented. As the adults visited at the graveside, he went to his knees and began to push his vehicle along the sod-lines, his tongue making the lip-thubbing sound that functions as a two-year-old's motor.
In this lesson, Isaiah's vision of the age to come takes personal form. A descendant of David, the great king, is on his way. As David delivered Israel from Saul's insanity, bringing in a time of power and prosperity, his offspring will break the dog-eat-dog cycle of injustice. The first quality to be observed in this ruler will not be personal ambition or self-service: "the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him," and so this One will finally set things right, protecting the disadvantaged while bringing the exploitative to heel.
But there's more. Restoring the human community, Isaiah declares that the one-to-come will restore the whole creation.
Accommodation to death makes survival of the fittest seem natural. As things now work, the vulnerable -- lambs, calves, kid-goats -- are dietary staples of the strong. Children at play are also at risk. But as Isaiah saw it, as the church hears it, this One -- who was to come, has come and is even now still awaited -- is about the establishment of a new order. It is a realm in which wolves, lions and bears no longer grow fat on the weak, where breast cells do not run amuck, turning killers. Then the child's unconscious raspberry will become the lion's song. In Christ's hand, proud death, cancer-like, will become its own victim.
If it had been a good day, if I had tended to my duties, if I had gotten along reasonably well with my brother and six sisters, I looked forward to his coming. In fact, one of my fondest childhood memories is of running to meet him, grasping his strong, calloused hand, and skipping happily at his side for the last block of his walk home.
On the other hand, if it had been a bad day, if I had neglected my responsibilities, if I had fought with my brother and sisters, if I had a poor report from school, I dreaded his coming. I hoped he would be delayed or that I could find an excuse to be away when he walked in the back door. It did no good. He always came.
There is no doubt about the coming of the Lord. Isaiah, John the Baptist and Paul are all certain of it. It is not a question of "if" but only "when." All three know that God will have the last word. God always comes.
For those who are expectant, who long for the coming, its prospect can only be good. The Lord's coming is a source of comfort and hope for believers. They stand on tiptoes, looking down the road, straining for the first glimpses of his arrival.
For those who are not ready, who have wasted their days, its prospect can only bring fear. The Lord's coming is a source of dread and hopelessness for unbelievers. They cower in the shadows, wishing the day could be delayed, looking only to the events of the moment in the hope that they can keep themselves distracted from his coming. It does no good. God always comes.
Because we do not know the exact hour, we should always be looking.
Grist For The Mill
Isaiah 11:1-10
The line of David is in trouble and with it the nation. Isaiah knows it, and so do others. The giants -- Saul, David, Solomon, Uzziah -- have fallen. Now there is only the dead stump. Or the apparently dead stump. Others have despaired. But not Isaiah. He is foolish enough to believe that out of this burned-out remnant of a once mighty tree a shoot will emerge.
We cannot know exactly what or who Isaiah had in mind when he spoke of the one to come. Every new king in Israel, as is true of every new president in the U.S., was greeted with high hopes. If Isaiah is writing to a people in exile, a people with no king at all, his expectation of a messiah may be greater than simply another king. Whatever the case, Christians who read this text in the light of the New Testament believe that Isaiah is the first and possibly the only prophet who speaks of the personal Messiah we meet in Jesus of Nazareth.
Isaiah sees the coming age to be ushered in by this Messiah as more than a time of moral adjustment. This will be an age of radical restoration and fundamental redemption. The poor will receive mercy. Those treated with contempt will get justice. Even nature will feel the difference. We hear echoes of this hope in Paul who says that "creation waits with eager longing (to) be set free from its bondage to decay ..." (Romans 8:19, 21).
When will all this happen? The answer eludes us today, as it did a week ago. But what do we do in the meantime? Jurgen Moltmann suggests that "creative hope" is the way. Like the Suffering Servant who emerges later in Isaiah, the Christian church lives on the promise that "makes us ready to expand ourselves unrestrainedly and unreservedly in love and in the work of reconciliation of the world with God and his future." We are called to live a life "shaped creatively by love, in order that (others) may live together ... more justly, more humanely, more peacefully, and in mutual recognition of their human dignity and freedom." (Jurgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, Harper & Row, 1965, pp. 337-338.)
Romans 15:4-13
Paul and the early Christians wrestled with difficult questions. If Christ fulfilled the promises of Isaiah and other prophets, how should they look to the future? How should they live between now and the time of his coming again? Paul's answer is that their hope should be rooted in "the encouragement of the scriptures" (15:4). The "scriptures" are no doubt our present Old Testament writings. What unfolds here is an understanding that each revelation of God is never an end in itself. Like the opening of a large flower blossom, each petal, complete in itself, sets the stage for the next. No matter how significant one appearance of God may be, it prepares us for another. We are always living between the ages. The kingdom is already here; the kingdom is yet to come.
If this is so, how shall we live? Paul's answer is as relevant for us as it was for the believers in Rome: "Live in harmony," "welcome one another," "glorify God for his mercy," "sing praises to (God's) name," "rejoice," "praise the Lord," "abound in hope." Anchored in his first coming -- the past, confident of his second coming -- in the future, we are set free to live for God and for others -- the present.
It is appropriate that many Christian communities will remember the life and witness of Teresa of Avila on December 14. Few have combined such an intense and mystical devotional life with an equally purposeful resolve to address the most practical and mundane issues of daily life. Her sense of the divine did not alienate her from a call to duty in the ordinary matters of everyday affairs. Deeply spiritual, she also was full of wit, candor and affection. So it should be with all who are certain that the God who will have the last word is also concerned about what happens today.
Matthew 3:1-12
Repentance. John the Baptist says it is the only way to prepare for our Lord's coming. Repentance means a complete change, of heart, of mind, of attitude. It is a reorientation of one's life. Nothing less can be called repentance. John is speaking to some who are accustomed to making minor adjustments here and there. It will not do. To prepare for the One who is to come, there must be complete change.
That repentance has happened should be evident in one's life. "Bear fruits worthy of repentance" (3:8). J.B. Phillips paraphrases it this way: "Go and do something to show that your hearts are really changed." According to Matthew, some of Jesus' hearers evaded the question by appealing to their pedigree. They put the preservation of their way of life above any possibilities for reform.
But according to Luke, some who heard John's preaching were cut to the heart and asked, "What must we do?" Maybe they hoped John would tell them to say they were sorry for something wrong they had done. But John's answer was clear, specific and demanding. If you have two coats, give one away. If you have food, share it. If you are responsible for the welfare of others, be fair and just. If in any way you have deprived someone of the basic needs of life, restore it.
How much will the average adult church member of a Christian congregation in America spend for Christmas gifts in the next two weeks? $100? $150? Depending on where you live, it could be less, or much, much more. In a congregation of 200 adult members that translates into somewhere between $10,000 and $25,000. Measure that against what these same members will give for the needs of others. Is there any doubt that we still need to hear the fiery words of John, calling for us to repent?
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Isaiah 11:1-10
The grave was new. Dug as they are now with power equipment, it had been opened like an incision, absorbed its contents and then closed again. The only evidence of violation was the lines between the rolls of sod, stitches soon to disappear.
The boy was her only grandson. He had gone with his parents to her bed as she lay there hospitalized. The cancer had first appeared as a pea-sized hardness in a breast. In later examination, they found breast cells all over her body, multiplying madly. As hopes dwindled, she had eyes only for the grandchild. The sound of his voice, his appearance beside her bed arrested her drifting consciousness, focused her remaining energies and surfaced the abiding tenderness of her love.
She was buried on a torrid afternoon. A deaf daughter done in with loss had gotten away from the family, climbed onto the casket and signed her grief into the shimmering sun, her groans and tears setting exclamation points.
Part of the family returned at evening, stopping by to check the finalities. The boy was with them, carrying a Christmas truck, the paint now chipped and the body dented. As the adults visited at the graveside, he went to his knees and began to push his vehicle along the sod-lines, his tongue making the lip-thubbing sound that functions as a two-year-old's motor.
In this lesson, Isaiah's vision of the age to come takes personal form. A descendant of David, the great king, is on his way. As David delivered Israel from Saul's insanity, bringing in a time of power and prosperity, his offspring will break the dog-eat-dog cycle of injustice. The first quality to be observed in this ruler will not be personal ambition or self-service: "the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him," and so this One will finally set things right, protecting the disadvantaged while bringing the exploitative to heel.
But there's more. Restoring the human community, Isaiah declares that the one-to-come will restore the whole creation.
Accommodation to death makes survival of the fittest seem natural. As things now work, the vulnerable -- lambs, calves, kid-goats -- are dietary staples of the strong. Children at play are also at risk. But as Isaiah saw it, as the church hears it, this One -- who was to come, has come and is even now still awaited -- is about the establishment of a new order. It is a realm in which wolves, lions and bears no longer grow fat on the weak, where breast cells do not run amuck, turning killers. Then the child's unconscious raspberry will become the lion's song. In Christ's hand, proud death, cancer-like, will become its own victim.
