Comfort
Sermon
Why Don't You Send Somebody?
Sermons For Advent, Christmas, Epiphany
"Comfort! Comfort my people, says your God." How wonderful
those words sound to us. How many times we feel the need for
comfort. How often we need an assuring and tender word to ease
the hurt we feel. Every year about this time we hear those
wonderful prophetic words sung in Handel's Messiah, or read in
our churches from the portion of scripture that biblical scholars
call "Second Isaiah," to distinguish it from the writings of the
eighth-century prophet.
They were written for a people for whom things had gone
terribly wrong. A terrible calamity had taken place. The nation
had been overrun by the Babylonian armies in 587-86 B.C.E.
Jerusalem was destroyed and laid waste and some 15,000 people
were hauled off into captivity to a foreign land hundreds of
miles away across the desert to the region of present-day
Baghdad. There they were held against their will in servitude to
their captors for nearly 70 years, separated from parents and
children, husbands and wives, most never to see each other again.
It was a long captivity. Few of the original captives lived to
return. Generations of children were born and grew up there
having only heard stories of the land from which their parents or
grandparents had come. Through all those years the idea of
returning was kept alive. Jerusalem was still "home,"
though Babylonia probably seemed like home to those who had never
known anything else, and who had found a place for themselves in
that land. The desire to return to Jerusalem was by no means
shared by all the exiles, but it remained an ardent and burning
hope for many.
We all remember that time when hostages were being held
somewhere in Lebanon. Some of them had been there for several
years. Occasional pictures would be sent out by their captors to
let the world know they were still alive and to keep the hurt
festering. How our hearts ached for those men and for their
families who longed to have them home again. We remember the
feeling. How we and they needed the comfort that could only come
by their release and return. Magnify that feeling several
thousand times and you'll have an idea of the impact that
captivity in Babylon had on the devastated and overrun land and
the people who remained, and upon the captives who, like captives
of any time, lived in hope of returning home someday. Most never
did. "Comfort, comfort my people, says your God."
Some saw destruction and captivity as the punishing hand of
God for Israel's unfaithfulness. To those the prophet said,
"Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry to her that her warfare is
ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from
the Lord's hand double for all her sins." (Isaiah 40:2)
Repentance for what one has done is a necessary factor of the
biblical equation of forgiveness, but it needs to be worked to
conclusion. One cannot live with guilt without end. Parents and
children, husbands and wives frequently do not understand that
and go on forever reminding that spouse or child or parent of
some long-past sin of commission or omission. There has to be a
time when we say "Enough! It's over!" "Comfort. Comfort my
people. ... Cry to her ... that her iniquity is pardoned."
When Babylonian power began to fade, the Persians were
expanding their empire and finally were ready to conquer
Babylonia itself. A school of prophecy naming itself for the
great eighth century prophet Isaiah, saw the opportunity to
fuel the fires of hope exemplified in this magnificent 40th
chapter of Isaiah. The prophetic task was to prepare the people
to take advantage of their freedom when the opportunity should
come, which meant the creation of a new state of mind among the
exiles. The exiles had lost hope of a return and made up their
minds to accept the inevitable and make the best of their lot.
The prophet's message grew out of this situation. It is a
message of prevailing hope and encouragement and of a future
glorious with the promise soon to be fulfilled. Nowhere is the
omnipotence of Yahweh more eloquently or powerfully portrayed
than in the words of this unknown prophet:
On a high mountain get you up,
O heralds of good news to Zion!
Lift up your voice with strength
O heralds of good news to Jerusalem!
Lift it up, fear not;
Say to the cities of Judah,
"Behold your God!"
-- Isaiah 40:9
To those who waited and hoped and prayed for vindication, and
for bondage to Babylon to be thrown off, the conquering armies of
Persia seemed like instruments in the hand of the Lord. "See! The
Lord God is coming with might, his own arm having won him the
kingdom ...." The prophet's words did not simply lift up the
possibility that they could soon be going home. Indeed it was
stated as a certainty. How's that for a comforting word to
captives? "Free at last! Free at last! Great God A'mighty, I'm
free at last!" But becoming free is not usually an easy matter --
not just a matter of walking out and being free. There is always
a price for freedom. The Hebrew exiles probably thought they'd
paid it all, but listen to the Prophet's word:
In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in
the desert a highway for our God. Every valley
shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the
uneven ground shall become level and the rough places a plain.
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall
see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.
-- Isaiah 40:3-5
The way home was to be across the desert, in the fastest and
most direct way possible. That was the price. Don't waste time
going the longer and easier way up the Euphrates River and down
from the north. Take the risk! Seize the day!
To understand the price of such a journey take a look at a map
of that region between Jerusalem and Babylonia. Draw a straight
line between them and see what the terrain is like. You may
remember seeing pictures from the time of the Gulf War depicting
the harshness of the desert. Between Babylon and Jerusalem were
hills and valleys, sandy desert and rough ground -- intense heat
in the summer and bitter cold in the winter. That might be
difficult enough for the young and able-bodied, but would you
take old men and women, and children, and expectant mothers on a
trip like that, plus everything they'll need to survive? That's
insane! That's enough to give one some second thoughts because it
sounds more like aggravation than comfort. But then do we really
understand comfort?
Comfort, in an old and largely obsolete definition, means "to
make one strong." That certainly has more meaning here than the
ease and relaxation that we might better describe as "comfy." "To
be made strong." Is that one of the ways our prayers are
answered?
On a very personal level, a great many of our Prayers concern
illness. How earnestly we pray to "change" that situation of
illness for ourselves or someone else. What we want is for it to
go away, but it doesn't usually happen that way. Certainly there
are occasional spontaneous remissions or reversals of illness,
but it is highly questionable that they occur because we have
mounted a prayer campaign and convinced
God to change the situation. There are miracles wrought by prayer
nevertheless -- the miracle of strengthening being one of the most
important. Think of how wonderful it is to make persons strong
enough to bear whatever are the burdens of their lives. That kind
of miracle happens all the time. Some of you know about that from
personal experience because it has happened to you.
To be strong to bear one's burdens doesn't sound like much of
a miracle. Comfort doesn't mean the situation will become easy.
The alcoholic will still have to take it one day at a time.
Living the rest of our lives without a loved one who has died
will not be easy. Coping with a disability, bearing pain, loving
someone who is hard to love are all difficult to do. They require
strength often beyond our limits. But there is reassurance --
tender reassurance. "Don't be afraid . ... Behold, your God comes
with strength, ... and reward ... and vindication. ... He will
feed his flock like a shepherd, he will gather the lambs in his
arms. And he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those
that are with young." (Isaiah 40:9-11)
Five centuries after the time of this Second Isaiah, John the
Baptist appeared in the desert at a place along the Jordan River
and proclaimed the good news about Jesus in some of the very same
words: "Prepare the way of the Lord. Make a straight way in the
desert for him." Like the prophet of old he urged people to make
a venture of faith. If we want the comfort of God we need to
prepare for it. We always need to prepare for whatever we want to
happen in life or we find ourselves simply drifting along without
direction or purpose, and frustrated much of the time.
There are hills and valleys and rough places in our lives that
are barriers to God working in any of us and they need to be
leveled and smoothed. They may be rocky relationships or strained
or broken friendships. They may be stormy tempers that flare and
moody valleys that are unpredictible and hazardous. We need to
take charge of whatever it is that produces the turmoil and
pressure and anxiety within us. Is there substance dependence
that needs to be admitted is out
of control? There is no better time than now to begin to work on
straightening out a disordered and aimless lifestyle that
encourages us to wander off into unfulfilling byways.
Here we are in the season of Advent preparing for Christmas.
We can just decorate the exterior and cover up what is
underneath, or we can make some substantive changes that will
smooth the way for the God-presence to come into our lives in a
special way this year. We can take a venture of faith and
discover the inner strength that is true comfort in the midst of
whatever distress or turmoil we may find ourselves. And we may
find to our surprise that the God who chose to become known in
the Child of Bethlehem will choose to be born anew in our hearts
and minds.
"Comfort, give comfort to my people," says the ancient but
contemporary prophetic voice. "And the glory of the Lord shall be
revealed, and we shall see it together."
those words sound to us. How many times we feel the need for
comfort. How often we need an assuring and tender word to ease
the hurt we feel. Every year about this time we hear those
wonderful prophetic words sung in Handel's Messiah, or read in
our churches from the portion of scripture that biblical scholars
call "Second Isaiah," to distinguish it from the writings of the
eighth-century prophet.
They were written for a people for whom things had gone
terribly wrong. A terrible calamity had taken place. The nation
had been overrun by the Babylonian armies in 587-86 B.C.E.
Jerusalem was destroyed and laid waste and some 15,000 people
were hauled off into captivity to a foreign land hundreds of
miles away across the desert to the region of present-day
Baghdad. There they were held against their will in servitude to
their captors for nearly 70 years, separated from parents and
children, husbands and wives, most never to see each other again.
It was a long captivity. Few of the original captives lived to
return. Generations of children were born and grew up there
having only heard stories of the land from which their parents or
grandparents had come. Through all those years the idea of
returning was kept alive. Jerusalem was still "home,"
though Babylonia probably seemed like home to those who had never
known anything else, and who had found a place for themselves in
that land. The desire to return to Jerusalem was by no means
shared by all the exiles, but it remained an ardent and burning
hope for many.
We all remember that time when hostages were being held
somewhere in Lebanon. Some of them had been there for several
years. Occasional pictures would be sent out by their captors to
let the world know they were still alive and to keep the hurt
festering. How our hearts ached for those men and for their
families who longed to have them home again. We remember the
feeling. How we and they needed the comfort that could only come
by their release and return. Magnify that feeling several
thousand times and you'll have an idea of the impact that
captivity in Babylon had on the devastated and overrun land and
the people who remained, and upon the captives who, like captives
of any time, lived in hope of returning home someday. Most never
did. "Comfort, comfort my people, says your God."
Some saw destruction and captivity as the punishing hand of
God for Israel's unfaithfulness. To those the prophet said,
"Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry to her that her warfare is
ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from
the Lord's hand double for all her sins." (Isaiah 40:2)
Repentance for what one has done is a necessary factor of the
biblical equation of forgiveness, but it needs to be worked to
conclusion. One cannot live with guilt without end. Parents and
children, husbands and wives frequently do not understand that
and go on forever reminding that spouse or child or parent of
some long-past sin of commission or omission. There has to be a
time when we say "Enough! It's over!" "Comfort. Comfort my
people. ... Cry to her ... that her iniquity is pardoned."
When Babylonian power began to fade, the Persians were
expanding their empire and finally were ready to conquer
Babylonia itself. A school of prophecy naming itself for the
great eighth century prophet Isaiah, saw the opportunity to
fuel the fires of hope exemplified in this magnificent 40th
chapter of Isaiah. The prophetic task was to prepare the people
to take advantage of their freedom when the opportunity should
come, which meant the creation of a new state of mind among the
exiles. The exiles had lost hope of a return and made up their
minds to accept the inevitable and make the best of their lot.
The prophet's message grew out of this situation. It is a
message of prevailing hope and encouragement and of a future
glorious with the promise soon to be fulfilled. Nowhere is the
omnipotence of Yahweh more eloquently or powerfully portrayed
than in the words of this unknown prophet:
On a high mountain get you up,
O heralds of good news to Zion!
Lift up your voice with strength
O heralds of good news to Jerusalem!
Lift it up, fear not;
Say to the cities of Judah,
"Behold your God!"
-- Isaiah 40:9
To those who waited and hoped and prayed for vindication, and
for bondage to Babylon to be thrown off, the conquering armies of
Persia seemed like instruments in the hand of the Lord. "See! The
Lord God is coming with might, his own arm having won him the
kingdom ...." The prophet's words did not simply lift up the
possibility that they could soon be going home. Indeed it was
stated as a certainty. How's that for a comforting word to
captives? "Free at last! Free at last! Great God A'mighty, I'm
free at last!" But becoming free is not usually an easy matter --
not just a matter of walking out and being free. There is always
a price for freedom. The Hebrew exiles probably thought they'd
paid it all, but listen to the Prophet's word:
In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in
the desert a highway for our God. Every valley
shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the
uneven ground shall become level and the rough places a plain.
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall
see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.
-- Isaiah 40:3-5
The way home was to be across the desert, in the fastest and
most direct way possible. That was the price. Don't waste time
going the longer and easier way up the Euphrates River and down
from the north. Take the risk! Seize the day!
To understand the price of such a journey take a look at a map
of that region between Jerusalem and Babylonia. Draw a straight
line between them and see what the terrain is like. You may
remember seeing pictures from the time of the Gulf War depicting
the harshness of the desert. Between Babylon and Jerusalem were
hills and valleys, sandy desert and rough ground -- intense heat
in the summer and bitter cold in the winter. That might be
difficult enough for the young and able-bodied, but would you
take old men and women, and children, and expectant mothers on a
trip like that, plus everything they'll need to survive? That's
insane! That's enough to give one some second thoughts because it
sounds more like aggravation than comfort. But then do we really
understand comfort?
Comfort, in an old and largely obsolete definition, means "to
make one strong." That certainly has more meaning here than the
ease and relaxation that we might better describe as "comfy." "To
be made strong." Is that one of the ways our prayers are
answered?
On a very personal level, a great many of our Prayers concern
illness. How earnestly we pray to "change" that situation of
illness for ourselves or someone else. What we want is for it to
go away, but it doesn't usually happen that way. Certainly there
are occasional spontaneous remissions or reversals of illness,
but it is highly questionable that they occur because we have
mounted a prayer campaign and convinced
God to change the situation. There are miracles wrought by prayer
nevertheless -- the miracle of strengthening being one of the most
important. Think of how wonderful it is to make persons strong
enough to bear whatever are the burdens of their lives. That kind
of miracle happens all the time. Some of you know about that from
personal experience because it has happened to you.
To be strong to bear one's burdens doesn't sound like much of
a miracle. Comfort doesn't mean the situation will become easy.
The alcoholic will still have to take it one day at a time.
Living the rest of our lives without a loved one who has died
will not be easy. Coping with a disability, bearing pain, loving
someone who is hard to love are all difficult to do. They require
strength often beyond our limits. But there is reassurance --
tender reassurance. "Don't be afraid . ... Behold, your God comes
with strength, ... and reward ... and vindication. ... He will
feed his flock like a shepherd, he will gather the lambs in his
arms. And he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those
that are with young." (Isaiah 40:9-11)
Five centuries after the time of this Second Isaiah, John the
Baptist appeared in the desert at a place along the Jordan River
and proclaimed the good news about Jesus in some of the very same
words: "Prepare the way of the Lord. Make a straight way in the
desert for him." Like the prophet of old he urged people to make
a venture of faith. If we want the comfort of God we need to
prepare for it. We always need to prepare for whatever we want to
happen in life or we find ourselves simply drifting along without
direction or purpose, and frustrated much of the time.
There are hills and valleys and rough places in our lives that
are barriers to God working in any of us and they need to be
leveled and smoothed. They may be rocky relationships or strained
or broken friendships. They may be stormy tempers that flare and
moody valleys that are unpredictible and hazardous. We need to
take charge of whatever it is that produces the turmoil and
pressure and anxiety within us. Is there substance dependence
that needs to be admitted is out
of control? There is no better time than now to begin to work on
straightening out a disordered and aimless lifestyle that
encourages us to wander off into unfulfilling byways.
Here we are in the season of Advent preparing for Christmas.
We can just decorate the exterior and cover up what is
underneath, or we can make some substantive changes that will
smooth the way for the God-presence to come into our lives in a
special way this year. We can take a venture of faith and
discover the inner strength that is true comfort in the midst of
whatever distress or turmoil we may find ourselves. And we may
find to our surprise that the God who chose to become known in
the Child of Bethlehem will choose to be born anew in our hearts
and minds.
"Comfort, give comfort to my people," says the ancient but
contemporary prophetic voice. "And the glory of the Lord shall be
revealed, and we shall see it together."
