The Weary World Needs Hope

Isaiah 9:1-7

Good morning, Church.

and Merry Christmas.

If you have your Bibles, make your way to Isaiah 9. We are now in our Christmas Series. And I’m always so thankful for Christmas Season.

I love it. Its one of my favorites. But we hold the line for Thanksgiving Season. We celebrate Thanksgiving then its Christmas time.

Like on the way to thanksgiving dinner— we have the tradition of listening to Alice’s Restautarnt by Arlo Gutherie. You can have anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant. Except Alice.

But afterwards, when we turn off of Americana and make the left on Baisden— the Christmas playlist comes out and we are in full-blown Christmas Season.

I’m all about it. On Black Friday, I put out the Christmas lights. We go get a Christmas tree.

We don’t have a fake tree— we still go out and pick out the biggest fattest tree that we can— it has to under 8ft tall and I get dangerously close to the limit some years. I think we had a headless angel to make a tree if one year.

But we bring the tree home and we decorate the house and the tree while watching White Christmas.

And we watch all the Christmas Movies throughout the season.

Elf, Home Alone, the Santa Clause, Christmas Vacation, a muppet Christmas Carole, Rudolph, the Grinch, Jingle all the Way, A Christmas Story, Its A Wonderful Life (in black and White, cant be in color). And of Course, Die Hard. Blair watches (and when i say Blair watches that means I’m probably watching as well) all the hallmark movies and Netflix Hallmark-esque movies.

You know the one.

A busy, big-city professional girl returns to her charming hometown for the holidays, usually to help with a family business, settle an estate, or save a beloved local tradition that’s on the brink of being canceled. While there, she unexpectedly reconnects with an old friend — often a ruggedly handsome, flannel-wearing local who loves Christmas more than anyone should. At first they clash, but as they bake cookies, decorate trees, and rescue the town’s Christmas festival, sparks start to fly. Through snowfalls, misunderstandings, and one perfectly timed sleigh ride, she rediscovers the magic of the season, the importance of community, and of course, true love. By Christmas Eve, the crisis is solved, the town is glowing, and the couple shares a kiss as snow gently begins to fall, even in places where it rarely snows.

We are even adding one more in the rotation this year— Prancer.

We love the Christmas Movies. and We drive all over the place to see the Christmas lights. We have this tradition ever since Blair and I have been dating that we go to Sonnys BBQ and go look at the lights on Girvin.

We go out and see the Buclare Lights. We stop and listen to the dancing lights over on Vera by the School. We are all about the lights.

We move the elf on the shelf around the house every night.

I wear the ugly christmas sweaters, we drink gallons of hot cocoa. We take Judah to get his picture taken with Santa every year.

Judahs first picture with Santa is him as a baby and he is pooping during the picture. The second year— he took a swing at the big guy. Year 3— santa had to stand behind the chair because he would cry otherwise.

He finally warmed up to him after that.

I love shopping and giving gifts to other people. With one Caveat— that it can be purchased online. If it cannot be purchased online— that just means I’m not the one buying it.

We are all about the Christmas Season.

But none of that is what Christmas is about. Those are distractions. can you imagine if thats all Christmas was about?

Gifts, spending time with family, and just consuming. And for the vast majority of Americans thats what Christmas has turned into.

Stuff.

Americans went 1 billion dollars more in debt on black friday—just black friday— the day after Thanksgiving— 1 Billion dollars in debt just on the buy now, pay later.

Maybe thats why so many people get the holiday blues. The "holiday blues" are a real phenomenon. Stress, anxiety, financial pressure, and unrealistic expectations can all increase during the holidays.

Statistics show the "holiday blues" are widespread, with surveys indicating 60-89% of people experience negative mental health impacts like stress and anxiety. 

We buy stuff to show people we love them with money we don’t have and we can’t figure out why we are depressed.

What should be the greatest time of the year has become a burden for the majority of people in this country.

But all of that stuff that I talked about—the tree, the decorating, the lights, not one of those things are about Christ.

Maybe—just maybe— if we focused on what truly mattered the people of this country wouldn’t be in debt up to their eyes balls and depressed.

What if instead of giving our loved ones stuff— we pointed them to a person?

Instead of taking them to see lights— we took them to see the light of the World?

And so many self-proclaimed Christians get this wrong.

I’m not anti-santa. Im not anti christmas movies, or anti-gifts. But I am against that being the main focus of this time of year.

Stuff is not the focus. Family is not the focus. Jesus is the focus.

But what they’ll do is they put all that crap on their plate— gotta get the gifts, gotta see the lights, gotta see santa, gotta spend time with the family, and then sprinkle a little Jesus on top like he is seasoning and then wonder why they are never completely and fully satisifed.

Make Jesus the primary course on your plate and spinkle in the other stuff and see what happens.

You’re not fully and completly satisifed because you’re over there drinking water that has a little bit of protein in it instead of feasting and delighting in real meat.

You could have whats best for you but we’re too busy just shoveling in junk.

Imagine if instead of elevating everything else. Imagine if we elevated Jesus above everything else.

“Yeah but Christmas was a pagan holiday.” You ever hear that? “Yeah but Christmas was a pagan holiday.”

A lot of people say Christmas was a pagan holiday, but that’s really a myth that’s been repeated so much people think it’s fact. Here’s what history actually shows:

1. There’s no evidence the early Christians “stole” a pagan festival.

People often point to the Roman holiday Saturnalia or the winter solstice, but neither of those match what early Christians were doing.

Saturnalia ended on December 23.

The solstice was December 21.

Christians weren’t worshiping the sun or celebrating Roman gods.

There’s zero historical record of Christians saying, “Hey, let’s copy that pagan holiday.”

2. The date of December 25 came from Christian theology, not paganism.

Early Christians tried to calculate the birth of Jesus based on the date they believed He was conceived — tied to Passover (March 25 in their reckoning). They believed prophets were conceived and died on the same date, so if Jesus was conceived March 25, His birth would naturally be… nine months later: December 25.

That’s from Christian logic, not pagan influence.

3. The early church was actually against pagan practices.

These believers were persecuted by Rome because they refused to participate in pagan festivals. They weren’t looking for ways to blend in — they were dying for their faith. So the idea that they would slap Jesus’ name on a pagan holiday makes no sense historically.

4. Celebrating Jesus’ birth is recorded long before any claim of pagan connection.

Christians were honoring the incarnation — God becoming flesh — centuries before anyone said anything about pagan origins. By the 200s, churches were already discussing Jesus’ birthdate.

5. Even if the date overlapped with pagan events, the meaning is completely different.

Christians have always celebrated Christ, not the sun, not Roman gods, not the seasons.

As one historian put it: “Overlap does not equal origin.”

So no — Christmas didn’t come from pagan worship.

It came from Christians celebrating the miracle of the incarnation. And whatever the world may do with this season, we’re not following a pagan tradition. We’re lifting up Jesus.

But the problem is— most Christian don’t marvel at what took place.

I mean, honestly think about what we are celebrating.

That God stood up off of His throne to be born of a virgin. To be born fully God and fully man on purpose for a purpose.

And side track— this is one of the reasons Christians have to be pro-life.

Before we dive into Isaiah 9, let me say this: What we celebrate this time of year is something the people of God in the Old Testament longed for with every fiber of their being.

We decorate our homes, we light candles, we sing about a silent night and a holy night—and all of that is good. But sometimes, if we’re honest, we take for granted the very thing they were aching for. Israel waited centuries for the Messiah. They hung onto promises in the dark. They prayed for the Light to break through. They longed for the One who would crush the serpent, redeem His people, and reign forever.

And church, that’s the miracle we celebrate at Christmas: God came. Not in a mist. Not as an idea. Not as some force floating around the universe. He came as a human.

And that matters more than most people realize.

Because we live in a moment where some self-proclaimed Christians are arguing that abortion is not taking a human life. That somehow life doesn’t begin at conception. And here’s the question that exposes the whole thing:

Was Jesus fully human inside the womb? Because if you deny that—if you say He wasn’t fully human until some point later—you’ve stepped outside of biblical Christianity. You’ve denied the very doctrine of the Incarnation.

If you say Jesus only became human at some point after conception… If you imply His divinity was “attached” to a body later on… You’re not just making a biological claim—you are drifting into ancient heresy. That’s the road toward Nestorianism, separating His humanity and divinity.

Church, the Bible is clear: Life begins at conception. And the clearest proof is Jesus Himself.

When Mary visited Elizabeth, Scripture says that John the Baptist, while still in the womb, leapt for joy because he was near Jesus—who was also in the womb. Two unborn children responding to each other. One heralding the arrival of the Messiah before either had taken their first breath.

So yes—we should rejoice that Jesus came. We should elevate the Incarnation above everything else this season. Because Christmas is not just tradition—it’s theology. It’s God wrapped in flesh, fully God and fully man, from the moment of conception.

And it’s with that weight, that wonder, and that worship that we come to Isaiah 9 this morning.

So, lets read Isaiah 9:1-7

Isaiah 9:1–7 ESV

But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish. In the former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the latter time he has made glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone. You have multiplied the nation; you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as they are glad when they divide the spoil. For the yoke of his burden, and the staff for his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian. For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire. For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

Pray

Before Isaiah even begins describing Zebulun and Naphtali, we need to pause and remember something that should take our breath away: this promise was spoken more than 700 years before Jesus was born. Seven centuries. Twenty-eight generations. Israel would cling to this prophecy long before there was a manger in Bethlehem, long before there were shepherds keeping watch, long before wise men ever saddled up their camels.

Think about that. We get impatient waiting seven minutes for something to heat in the microwave. They waited seven hundred years for the Light God promised. Every time Isaiah 9 was read in the synagogue, every time a family rehearsed this prophecy, every time a weary believer whispered, “Lord, when will You come?”—they were clinging to their faith in a God who keeps His word even when His timeline stretches beyond what human eyes can see.

That is the weight Isaiah’s audience felt when these words were first spoken. They weren’t reading about a promise fulfilled; they were hanging onto a promise delayed. They were living in the tension between what God said and what they hadn’t seen yet. And yet—God wasn’t late. God wasn’t silent. God was preparing the exact moment when the Messiah would step into the world.

And when these words were first uttered through Isaiah by the Holy Spirit, the northern nation of Israel was near the end. This was a message of hope delivered right before the hammer fell and Assaryia would destroy northern Israel.

and understand when Isaiah said them

Spiritually, the people had drifted from God. Morally, corruption and injustice were normal. Nationally, Assyria was rising and their borders were collapsing. Emotionally, fear and grief were constant companions. Prophetically, God’s voice felt distant.

The darkness wasn’t just around them—it was inside them.

Into that world, God gives a promise of hope that He Himself will fulfill.

1. Light Breaks Through Darkness

Before we unpack Isaiah’s words, we need to recognize something that gives this passage its weight: Isaiah spoke this promise roughly 700 years before the birth of Jesus. Seven centuries. Twenty-eight generations. Israel held onto this promise long before there was a manger, shepherds, or wise men. They heard these words with longing, not nostalgia. They lived their entire lives in the tension between God’s promise and its fulfillment. They believed God would keep His word, even if they would never see the fulfillment in their lifetime.

Isaiah begins by naming Zebulun and Naphtali. These were the northern regions of Israel that were devastated first when Assyria invaded. They were the first to fall, the first to experience terror, and the first to feel abandoned. If you wanted to point to a place in Israel that embodied devastation, this would be it.

And Isaiah says the people living there were “walking in darkness.” That wasn’t an exaggeration. They were walking in spiritual darkness because their hearts had drifted from God. They were walking in moral darkness because corruption and injustice had become normal. They were walking in national darkness because their borders were collapsing and their future looked hopeless. They were walking in emotional darkness because fear and grief had settled in. They were walking in prophetic darkness because God’s voice seemed distant.

In short, the darkness wasn’t just around them—it was inside them.

And yet, into this reality, God speaks with clarity: “There will be no gloom for her who was in anguish.” God does not ignore their suffering; He simply refuses to let suffering define the end of their story.

Isaiah continues: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” This is not vague encouragement. It is a declaration that God Himself will intervene. The “great light” is not symbolism. It is the Messiah—Jesus Christ—entering human history with authority and power.

Matthew 4 tells us that Jesus begins His ministry in Galilee, specifically in the regions of Zebulun and Naphtali. Jesus intentionally steps into the places that had known the deepest darkness. He does not begin His ministry in the religious center of Jerusalem but in the margins—among broken people in a forgotten region.

Charles Spurgeon put it well: “It is not our littleness that hinders Christ, but our greatness.” In other words, Jesus goes where people know they need Him.

This is God’s character. He brings real light into real darkness. He restores what looks permanently damaged. He begins His greatest work in the places we assume are too far gone.

And the same God who stepped into Galilee steps into the darkest corners of our lives without hesitation.

This is where it gets personal.

Some of us walked into church this morning carrying a darkness no one else can see—fear, disappointment, private sin, or the weight of a situation you can’t fix. And you’ve convinced yourself, “God probably works everywhere else, but this? This is too messy. Too broken. Too complicated.”

Galilee was messy too.

It had a long history of spiritual compromise because it was one of the first regions conquered by Assyria, and afterward foreign peoples were moved in. The religious leaders in Jerusalem viewed Galilee as second-rate, a place where faith had been diluted and people weren’t as serious about the Law. It was also far from Jerusalem—the religious center—so it carried this reputation of being “out on the margins.”

Culturally, it was known as “Galilee of the Gentiles,” a mixed region shaped by trade, travel, and outside influence.

And politically, it lived under constant pressure as empire after empire rolled through, leaving the people tired, poor, and overlooked. In short, Galilee was ordinary, messy, and spiritually forgotten.

And Jesus chooses it. He doesn’t launch His ministry in the temple or among the religious elite. He starts in the place everyone else avoided. Because that’s who He is. He steps into the shadows, into the overlooked places, into the lives people assume are too far gone. Galilee shows us that God loves to begin His greatest work in the places we least expect.

And that’s why this matters to us. If Jesus stepped into Galilee—broken, overlooked, spiritually confused Galilee—then there is no corner of your life He won’t step into as well.

If there’s a place in your heart you’ve been avoiding, invite Jesus into it. His light does its best work where you feel the most stuck. So many of us treat our souls like a messy room—we crack the door just enough so people think everything’s clean, but we won’t let anyone actually look inside. Shame keeps us quiet. Fear whispers that if Jesus really saw the depth of our struggle, He’d pull back.

But He already sees it, and just like He did in Galilee, He steps toward the mess, not away from it. The very thing you’re scared to bring to Him is the very place He wants to heal.

If you’ve been walking around acting like everything is good while your soul is running on fumes, just call it what it is. You can sit in church with a smile on your face and still feel empty when you go home. You know how to give the polite answers. You know how to keep people from asking questions. But inside, you’re tired. And you know it.

Here’s the good news: Jesus meets you in that place. Not the cleaned-up version. Not the “I’m fine” version. He meets the worn-out, frustrated, out-of-strength version. And when you finally quit trying to hold it all together on your own, His grace stops being something you talk about and becomes something you actually lean on. That’s where real healing begins.

And if you’re praying for a prodigal, let this text breathe some hope into you. Galilee was the spot everybody joked about—spiritually confused, looked down on, written off. And Jesus said, “Yeah… I’ll start there.” So don’t you dare believe the lie that your prodigal is too far, too stubborn, or too lost for God to reach. Jesus specializes in stepping into places we’ve already given up on. He can go down roads you can’t go down. He can speak into hearts you can’t get through to.

So keep praying. Keep believing. Keep trusting that the same Light that broke into Galilee can break into their story too. The darkness doesn’t get to write the ending. Jesus does.

Because this is the truth Isaiah wants us to see: darkness does not get the last word. Jesus does.

2. Joy And Triumph Restored

Isaiah shifts from describing the darkness to describing what God will do about it. This section is a reminder that God’s response to human brokenness is never passive. He does not simply observe our pain. He acts decisively.

Isaiah says God will “increase their joy.” This is not surface-level happiness. It is the deep, settled joy that comes when God restores what sin and suffering have taken. Isaiah compares it to harvest time or the celebration after a victory—moments when relief, gratitude, and strength converge.

Then Isaiah describes the Messiah’s work in terms of breaking things people cannot break on their own. He speaks of “the yoke,” “the staff,” and “the rod”—images of slavery, oppression, and crushing burden. Israel had experienced these under Assyria and under their own sin. These were forces too heavy for them to overcome on their own.

The message is clear: God will break what is breaking His people. Where human strength fails, divine intervention succeeds. God does not negotiate with the forces that enslave His people; He dismantles them.

Isaiah continues with the imagery of war. In verse 5 he speaks of boots and bloody garments being burned. This is what you do when a conflict is truly over—you burn the tools of war because they are no longer needed. The Messiah does not just bring temporary moments of peace; He establishes a peace so complete that the old weapons have no purpose in His kingdom.

Matthew Henry once said, “Christ came to destroy the works of the devil, not to compromise with them.” That perfectly captures what Isaiah is saying here. The Messiah does not come to soften our brokenness; He comes to end it.

This is the pattern of God’s salvation. He breaks the power of sin. He destroys the chains we cannot remove. He provides a joy that hardship cannot erase. He ends battles that have consumed us for years. This is not self-help. This is deliverance.

But here’s the tension we feel: We still live in a world at war. We are surrounded by spiritual conflict, cultural pressure, temptation, suffering, and the lingering effects of a fallen world. The fight is real. The wounds are real. The darkness still pushes back.

Yet at the same time—and this is the hope of Isaiah 9—the decisive blow has already been struck. The Messiah has already shattered the yoke. He has already broken the rod. He has already guaranteed the victory. We are not fighting for victory; we are fighting from victory.

But let’s not pretend the world is easy.

We do not deny the battles in front of us. But we also do not carry a weight Jesus has already broken. We do not surrender to chains Jesus has already shattered. We do not fight as if we are abandoned. We fight with confidence, with joy, with hope—because the Prince of Peace has already declared the outcome.

The same God who broke the yoke for Israel still breaks the things that weigh on His people today. He still frees. He still restores. He still lifts. He still fights for His people.

And though the war around us is going, its already been won.

3. Peace And Justice Unveiled

Isaiah now explains how God will unveil the peace and justice He has promised. The darkness will be pushed back. The burdens will be broken. The war will end. But the method is unexpected. Isaiah does not point to a warrior or a politician. He points to a child. God brings peace to the world in a way the world would never choose.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given.” These two statements hold the mystery of the Incarnation. “A child is born” affirms His full humanity; He steps into our broken world the same way we did. “A son is given” affirms His full divinity; He is sent from above, not created from below. Peace and justice don’t come from human effort—they come from God entering our story Himself.

Isaiah then says, “the government shall be upon His shoulder.” Real peace and real justice require real authority. Human leaders can offer moments of stability, but they cannot sustain lasting justice because they themselves are temporary and flawed. Only Christ carries a government strong enough, pure enough, and eternal enough to produce peace that endures.

Then Isaiah gives four titles that define the nature of His peace-filled rule. • As the Wonderful Counselor, He governs with perfect wisdom—there is no corruption or confusion in His leadership. • As the Mighty God, He brings justice with actual power—He is strong enough to set things right. • As the Everlasting Father, He cares for His people with perfect protection, provision, and tenderness. • As the Prince of Peace, He establishes a peace that is whole, lasting, and cannot be overturned.

Verse 7 says His kingdom and His peace will increase without end. Human governments rise and fall. Their justice is partial. Their peace is temporary. But the kingdom of Christ only grows, and His peace only deepens. Nothing in this world can replace it or diminish it.

Spurgeon said, “There is no attribute of God which does not minister comfort to the believer.” Every attribute Isaiah highlights—wisdom, power, fatherly care, and peace—is an anchor for weary people who long for a world made right.

Isaiah ends with, “The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.” The peace and justice we long for do not rest on human sincerity or human strength. God Himself guarantees it. The future is not fragile. The promise is not uncertain. The outcome is not up for debate. The God who promised it will accomplish it.

We live in a world where peace feels fragile and justice feels delayed. You don’t have to look far to see conflict, division, or wrongdoing. Even in our own lives, we feel the tension of wanting things to be made right while still walking through what feels messy and unresolved. Isaiah’s message reminds us that peace and justice are not ideals we chase—they are realities rooted in the character of Christ.

The other day I was carrying stress I didn’t even realize I was holding—church responsibilities, school deadlines, decisions piling up. Blair looked at me and said, “You’re acting like everything depends on you.” And she was right. I was trying to manufacture peace instead of resting in the One who provides it. Isaiah reminds us that peace is not something we achieve. It’s something Christ brings.

Because the Child has come, we don’t have to create our own peace. Because the Son is given, we don’t have to settle for temporary justice. Because His kingdom will never end, we don’t have to fear the instability of the world around us.

This Child brings justice that is complete and peace that is unshakable. This is Peace and Justice Unveiled in the person and work of Jesus.

Isaiah’s vision of the Child who is King isn’t just a theological statement—it’s the answer to a world that feels exhausted. When he speaks of a Wonderful Counselor, a Mighty God, an Everlasting Father, and a Prince of Peace, he is speaking straight into the ache of people who are worn down by darkness. And that’s where this passage meets us. Because the weary world doesn’t just need more information—it needs hope.

Church, if Isaiah 9 shows us anything, it’s that Christmas is not sentimental—it’s supernatural. It’s God stepping into human history to do what no one else could do. It’s the Light breaking into darkness, the Joy breaking into despair, the Peace breaking into chaos. And that demands a response from us. Not applause. Not nostalgia. Not “that was a good sermon.” A response of obedience.

So the question today is simple and unavoidable: What step of obedience is the Light calling you to take?

For some of you, the next step is repentance. You’ve been carrying sin, shame, or secret places of darkness and pretending you can outrun it. Bring it into the Light. Confess it. Let Christ break what is breaking you.

For some, the next step is surrender. You’ve been trying to control everything—your life, your family, your future—like the government is on your shoulders. Lay it down. Christ carries what you cannot.

For some, the next step is trust. You’ve prayed for a prodigal, a marriage, a diagnosis, a situation you can’t fix. Don’t give up. Don’t stop interceding. The same Light that broke into Galilee can break into their story too.

For some, the next step is worship. You’ve treated Jesus like seasoning—something sprinkled on an already full plate. Make Him the feast. Make Him the center. Make Him the priority, not the accessory.

And for some, the next step is salvation. You’ve known about Jesus, talked about Jesus, sung about Jesus—but you’ve never surrendered your life to Him. You’re still trying to clean yourself up before coming to Him. Hear me: the Light came because you can’t fix yourself. Today is the day to step out of darkness and into the arms of the Savior who came for you.

Whatever your step is, don’t leave this room without taking it. Don’t hear Isaiah 9 and stay the same. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great Light—so walk in it. Follow it. Trust it. Obey it.

Because the weary world may feel like it’s groaning, but the hope of Christmas is this: God came. God saves. God reigns. And God is with us.

And that is why we sing what God’s people have been singing through every age of darkness and every season of waiting—an anthem of longing, of faith, and of hope.

O come, O come, Emmanuel…