At Last Advent Series

Hope is Renewed

Isaiah 2:1–5 NRSV

1 The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem. 2 In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. 3 Many peoples shall come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. 4 He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. 5 O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!

This is the word of God for the people of God.

Thanks be to God.

Introduction

My sisters and brothers, I want to start this morning with something personal. There’s a song that has been sitting on my heart for weeks now as I’ve prayed and prepared for Advent.

It’s one of the most iconic songs ever written and it’s one of my all time favorite songs.

I have been just playing it over and over again and I know JaLease probably think something is going on with me because of how often I’ve been listening to it.

It’s not a hymn — but the way it hits my spirit, it might as well be one.

This song is no other than “At Last” by the late, great, and iconic Etta James.

Now I know many of you are thinking what in the world does Etta James have to do with Advent?

He could’ve mentioned Silent Night, O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, Joy to the World; but he mentions, a wedding song.

I mean I love the song but what does that song have to do with Advent.

Yes, I was quite surprised that this song by Etta James was placed in my spirit, but as strange as it may be I think that this song in essence describes the objective for Advent; longing and waiting with hope.

Even the story of how this song came about embodies today’s text from Isaiah and Advent.

THE STORY BEHIND “AT LAST” — WHY IT HITS SO DEEP

“At Last” wasn’t written by Etta James, but she’s the one who gave it the soul the world remembers. What most people don’t know is that the song was born out of waiting — decades of it.

1. Originally written in 1941 for a movie

The song was written by Mack Gordon and Harry Warren for a Glenn Miller movie called Orchestra Wives. It was meant to be a romantic ballad for a wartime audience longing for stability and normal life.

But here’s where it gets interesting…

2. It was sung by a white big-band singer… but it didn’t truly “live” yet

Glenn Miller’s version was smooth and elegant, but it didn’t carry that deep ache, that longing, that feeling of finally that we hear in Etta’s version.

Why? Because it was written in a time of war, rationing, and national uncertainty — but sung in a polished Hollywood way. The emotion was there in the words, but not yet in the voice.

The song was waiting… for the right voice, the right story, the right soul.

3. Enter Etta James — a life marked by longing

By the time Etta James recorded the song in 1960, she had lived a life that made those lyrics true in her bones.

Etta grew up in instability — • raised by foster families, • searching for belonging, • longing for love, • often feeling alone, • fighting to find her place in the world.

She once said that “At Last” was the first song where she felt like she could “lay her burdens down in the melody.”

When she stepped into the studio, her producer told her to sing it “like a woman who finally gets what she’s been praying for.” And she did.

When she stretches out the words, “At laaast…” you can hear decades of longing released in one breath.

That’s why the song hits so hard. It sounds like somebody who has waited their whole life for something to finally be different.

4. The world finally heard what the song was always meant to sound like

Etta James transformed “At Last” from a pretty love song into a testimony:

• of longing, • of endurance, • of waiting, • of struggle, • and of hope finally breaking through.

Take a look at the first few lines in this iconic song.

She begins with a simple declaration:

“At last… my love has come along.”

And then she follows it with a truth that feels like a sigh of relief:

“My lonely days are over…”

Now she’s singing about romantic love, but the emotion underneath those words runs far deeper than that.

That opening line captures the feeling of waiting — really waiting — for something to change.

For something to break through.

For something to finally come together after a long season of being unsure, unsettled, or worn down.

When Etta lifts her voice and says, “And life is like a song,” she’s not pretending everything is perfect. She’s testifying to what it feels like when hope finally shows up and sits beside you.

And church, that’s Advent.

Advent is the season when the people of God stand in the tension between “not yet” and “at last.”

It’s the season where our faith hums that same melody of longing Etta James put into words — that desire for God to step in, to break through, to make right what feels broken.

Isaiah is singing that same song in chapter 2. Israel was surrounded by conflict and uncertainty.

The world felt off-key.

But Isaiah paints a picture of a new day, a day when nations stream toward God’s light, when weapons become farm tools, when instruction replaces violence, when peace becomes possible.

You can almost hear Isaiah saying: “At last… God’s future is on the way.”

A day, he says, when the mountain of the Lord will be lifted up. A day when nations will stream toward God instead of toward war. A day when swords will be beat into plowshares. A day when people — who once walked in darkness — will walk in God’s light.

You can almost hear Isaiah whispering to the weary, to the discouraged, to the frustrated:

“Hold on. God’s ‘at last’ is coming.”

That’s why this Advent series is called At Last. And that’s why this first Sunday is about hope — because hope is what keeps us standing in the gap between promise and fulfillment.

Hope is what lets us say: “I don’t see it yet… but I believe it’s coming.” “I’m tired… but I’m not giving up.” “The world looks like it’s falling apart… but God is still building something.”

Hope is what lets Isaiah sing the future into the present. And hope is what lets Etta James put her whole heart in those words:

“At last…”

Not because everything is perfect — but because something has shifted. Because a new day is breaking in. Because the long night is starting to give way to sunrise.

This Advent, as we walk through Isaiah, as we look toward the manger, and as we listen for the whisper of God’s promise — my prayer is that each of us will discover again that hope is not lost… hope is renewed.

Advent hope isn’t wishful thinking. It’s the confident belief that God is still composing the song, even when the world sounds dissonant.

So as we step into this new season — as we begin this Advent journey — hear those opening words from Etta James not just as a love song but as a spiritual posture:

“At last…” the kind of world God promised is still breaking in.

“At last…” the light Isaiah spoke about is still shining.

Even if the fullness hasn’t come yet… Hope is renewed every time we turn our faces toward that mountain and choose to walk in the light.

So church, when we hold Etta’s story in one hand — the waiting, the longing, the deep breath in her voice when she finally sings “At last…” — and Isaiah’s vision in the other hand, something powerful happens.

We begin to see that this passage isn’t just ancient poetry. It’s not just a pretty prophecy we bring out during Advent. It is a word spoken straight into the lives of people who know what it means to wait on God.

People like you. People like me. People like Etta. People like Israel.

People who know what it is to stand in a world that looks nothing like the Kingdom of God… and still believe that God is not finished.

Isaiah 2:1–5 is God’s “At Last” to a world that is longing for hope.

So now, with that in our hearts… With that longing in our ears… With Etta’s voice echoing what our spirits already know…

Let’s walk through Isaiah’s words. Let’s listen for the places where hope begins to rise. Let’s hear what God is saying to tired people, weary people, longing people — people who need to be reminded that the story isn’t over.

Isaiah starts in verse 1 by reminding us where this vision comes from…

Verse 1 — “The word that Isaiah… saw”

Isaiah doesn’t “invent” hope — he sees it. Hope isn’t something we make up; hope is something God shows us when we’re looking at the world and wondering where God is. This is God’s promise, not Israel’s imagination.

Then in Verse 2 — “In days to come… the mountain of the Lord shall be established”

God is lifting something up. The world Israel sees is unstable, violent, and chaotic — but God declares a future where His presence becomes the center of everything. When God lifts something, no one can push it down.

“All the nations shall stream to it”

Notice the reversal — rivers normally flow down, but God draws them up. Hope pulls people upward. Grace pulls people together. God’s future is bigger than one nation, one race, one people. Hope is always an invitation.

Verse 3 — “He will teach us His ways… we will walk in His paths”

In God’s “at last,” people don’t gather to fight — they gather to learn. God becomes the Teacher of the world, shaping hearts, renewing minds, correcting what is crooked. God’s future starts with discipleship.

Verse 4 — “They shall beat their swords into plowshares…”

This is the part of the text where hope becomes visible. Tools of destruction become tools of creation. Weapons become farm equipment. Fear becomes fruitfulness. Violence becomes harvest.

Only God can take something that once harmed people and turn it into something that feeds people.

This is divine transformation — this is Advent hope.

“Nation shall not lift up sword against nation…”

Isaiah is not describing the world as it is — he is describing the world as God intends it to be. A world where conflict is not the final word. A world where peace is not fragile. A world where people don’t learn war anymore because they’ve learned God's ways instead.

Verse 5 — “Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.”

Isaiah ends with an invitation, not a conclusion. Because hope is not passive — hope is a walk. Advent is not a countdown — Advent is a journey. Isaiah is saying: “Don’t just admire God’s future… start living like you believe it.”

And Isaiah extends that very invitation to you and I on this morning.

Isaiah is challenging the people of Israel and Judah, he’s challenging us to live as a people who have hope.

Now some of you may be asking, Bro. Walter, how do we live as a people of hope?

How do we live into this hope until the Christ-child comes again?

Well, I am glad you asked.

My sister and brothers, we live in the ways of hope by doing as John the Baptist after his conception and just before his death. We prepare the way.

We live as though we know that Jesus will return at any point.

We live as people of hope by showing a concern for neighbor.

By visiting the sick

By not abandoning those who are imprisoned

By speaking up for the oppressed

By feeding the hungry

And by proclaiming to the world that all seems grim and hopeless in this world but know that you have hope. Know that you have a future because the Christ child is coming. He is indeed returning. And with him will come a renewed sense of hope, peace, a spark of joy, and love overflowing.

There will be no more war.

There will be no more sickness.

No more sorrow or grief.

We live as a people of hope by proclaiming that good news. The good news that God’s son, Mary and Joseph’s baby boy will indeed return.

And not only do we proclaim that Good News but we live as one who believes it.

My sisters and brothers, we will have our “At Last” moment.

I want to close today by telling you something Etta James said years after she recorded “At Last.” She was reflecting on why that song had stayed with people for so long. And she said something simple but profound. She said:

“I was singing what I needed to believe.”

She wasn’t just performing. She wasn’t just hitting notes. She was hoping out loud.

And she said that when she opened her mouth to sing “At last,” she was really saying, “Lord, let this be my story. Let this be my future. Let this be the day that all the lonely, broken, longing parts of my life finally come together.”

Y’all, that touched me when I heard it. Because sometimes faith is exactly that — singing what we need to believe. Walking toward a future we can’t yet see. Holding onto hope when the world gives us a thousand reasons to let go.

And isn’t that what Isaiah was doing? Isn’t that what Advent asks of us?

Isaiah stood in a world full of swords… and dared to imagine plowshares.

He stood in a world full of war… and dared to preach peace.

He stood in a world full of darkness… and dared to call people to the light.

He was singing what he needed to believe — that God’s “at last” was on the way.

And beloved, here’s the good news: We don’t just sing hope… We don’t just imagine hope… We don’t just long for hope… We have a Savior who is our hope.

A Savior whose birth says to the world, “At last… light has entered the darkness.”

A Savior whose cross says, “At last… sin does not have the final word.”

A Savior whose resurrection says, “At last… death has been defeated.”

A Savior whose promised return says, “At last… the world Isaiah described will be the world we see.”

So church, as we step into this Advent season — as we look toward that manger, as we listen for God’s whisper, as we trust God’s promise —

may we dare to join Etta James and Isaiah and every saint who ever held onto hope:

May we dare to sing, even before we see it: “At last…” God’s kingdom is coming. God’s peace is coming. God’s renewal is coming. And hope — hope is being renewed in us even now.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit — Amen.