Comfort, Comfort My People

Rev. Alex Sloter Isaiah 40:1-11 Comfort, Comfort My People Advent 2 (12/6/2020) Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Amen. A woman sits alone. A dear friend told her earlier that day that he was coming to visit. But it is now evening. The coffee on the table is cold. One cookie on the tray beside it is half gone. The clock ticks and tocks, counting the seconds that turned into hours as she waited. The once bright beam of sunlight from the south window has gone dark, replaced by the sickly light of a halogen street lamp. The woman had sat down on the sofa in the late afternoon, certain that her friend would come any minute, and hadn’t moved since. As long as she sat there, she could pretend like the door was about to open for her guest. She could trick her ears into hearing footsteps approaching her door from the street. But her expectant lean toward the door had decayed to a slump. The clock could tick and tock for eternity, but would he ever come? This is a picture of God’s waiting people. When Christ ascended, he said he would come back, but where is he? After a time of eager expectation, the church’s forward lean of excitement has begun to decay into a slump. But to his waiting people, especially those on the brink of giving up, God speaks a word of comfort. The Lord is coming to dwell with his people. This word of comfort was first spoken by the prophet Isaiah. When God rescued his people Israel from Egypt, he promised to dwell with them in Canaan, their new home. So when one of the great kings of Israel, Solomon, built the temple, God’s glory descended and filled it with light. God was present with his people. Their home was his home too. Because God was with them, they didn’t have to fear foreign armies, or droughts, or plagues. Whenever something threatened them, they could turn to the temple and pray to the God who lived with them. Like a fortress, God’s presence protected the nation. But Israel began to presume on God’s kindness. They filled their land with all kinds of sin. And whenever the consequences of sin threatened them, they would run to the temple for protection. Eventually, God asked, “Has my house become a den of robbers?” In other words, “Do you think that my home is a hideout for the wicked?” How could a good God let himself become a fortress for evil? So God abandoned his people who had already abandoned him in their hearts. His glory left the temple, and without God as their fortress, Israel fell prey to foreign armies. It is into this situation of abandonment, of severe punishment and potential hopelessness, that God commands his prophet to speak a new word, “Comfort, comfort, my people. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned.” To a people facing abandonment and resignation, God speaks a word of comfort. In response to this command, “Comfort, comfort, my people,” a voice speaks. It cries, “In the wilderness, prepare a way for our God. Make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill 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.” The Lord is coming back to the people he once abandoned, or more properly, to those who once abandoned him. His glory will shine in their midst, and all nations will see it. So this voice advises, “Prepare the way of the Lord. Make a highway for God’s return. Fill in the potholes, level the bumps, remove every obstacle from the road because God is coming back.” Imagine the joy of our waiting friend whom we met at the beginning of the sermon. For years she had lived alone, seemingly abandoned by someone who once loved her. But then the phone rang one morning, and a voice said, “I am on my way.” Excitement filled her heart as she dusted the house and threw out the old newspapers. She baked cookies and put on the coffee, got everything ready for her friend’s arrival. That’s how these words should sound to us. It is easy to feel abandoned by God and alone. But here God says, “I am coming back.” However, there is one thing that gets in the way of our excitement: the wait. We know that our friend is going to sit with cold coffee and stale cookies for a long time because that is where we are. We have heard this promise, but we are still waiting for God to come. Nevertheless, we have this word of comfort. God is on his way. But this is not the only voice that speaks a word of comfort today. At the end of our reading, there is another voice, a voice that cries to God’s waiting people, “Behold, the Lord God comes with might and his arm rules for him; behold, his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them close to his heart; and gently lead those that are with young.” When God returns to his people, he will not dwell in unapproachable light. He will not make his home in a dark temple, inaccessible to all but the high priest, and that only once a year. He will not hold himself aloof, above his peoples’ troubles. Instead, he will dwell with them like a shepherd with his sheep. He will lead them to green pastures and quiet waters. He will make them lie down to rest in safety, and nothing will make the afraid. The sick, he will heal. The hungry, he will feed. The lonely, he will embrace. He will carry his lambs close to his heart and hold them there forever. This voice shares a word of comfort by picturing what God will be like when he comes to Israel. He will not come to punish his people for their sins, or to remember old wrongs. All of that is in the past. He will come to comfort, to relieve, to hold and protect. This is a God worth waiting for. “Prepare the way,” cries the first voice. “The shepherd is coming,” cries the second. That voice says to us, “Sit up straight. Prepare for the Lord to come, and be patient. The shepherd of love is on his way and you will be alone no more.” But even with these two words, God’s people are still tempted with hopeless resignation. “It has been so long. God isn’t coming. I need to move on and live in this world as best I can.” Maybe that is what our friend is beginning to think as she waits, and the clock keeps ticking the hours away. Sometimes, it is better to give up all hope than to hang on to a painful sliver. But there is one more voice that speaks in this text. This third voice cries, “All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field. The grass withers and the flower fades, but the Word of our God will stand forever.” To a people losing hope, God speaks this final word of comfort, “The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the Word of our God stands forever.” What God has spoken, he will do. The people of Isaiah’s day had to wait a long time for God to come again, but he did. Almost four hundred years after Isaiah wrote his book, a voice cried in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” John the Baptist stood on the Jordan’s bank and waited for the savior. He baptized God’s people for repentance and forgiveness so that the highway of human hearts would be ready for the coming Lord. And then, as he stood on the banks of the Jordan, the glory of the Lord appeared. Not in light and clouds, but in the body of a humble carpenter from Nazareth. A finger pointed and the voice in the wilderness cried, “Behold, the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” The Lord had come to his waiting people. The shepherd of love was standing in the midst of his sheep. He was here to lead them home. To gather the lambs in his arms and carry them close to his heart. God’s abandoned people were abandoned no longer. Their eternal savior and faithful friend had arrived. He had promised to come, and now he was here. The Word of the Lord endures forever. What he has spoken, he will do. That day seems so distant from our perspective. We have been waiting so long to see the sight that Israel saw 2,000 years ago. O to be the eyes that saw the carpenter. To be the hands that touched his body. To be the child scooped up into his arms for a blessing. Why, O Lord, do you leave us waiting? But to a people seemingly abandoned by their savior, Christ commands a word of comfort to be spoken. A voice cries, “Prepare a highway for the Lord.” Repent, dust your heart throw out whatever is old and rotting, the Lord is coming. A second voice cries, “He will tend his flock like a shepherd. He will gather his lambs in his arms and carry them close to his heart.” The shepherd of love is on his way to dwell with his flock and hold them in his arms. And to those who are beginning to lose hope, whose expectant lean is decaying into a slump, a third voice cries, “The word of our God will stand forever.” What the Lord has spoken he will do. Our friend waited for what seemed like years. She even fell asleep for part of the night, too tired to keep waiting. But as the first rays of light shone through the window, she heard footsteps on the street, steps that confidently strode to her door. She straightened up, a little groggy, not daring to hope for what she would hear next. Then the doorbell rang with a single chime. Her friend had come. And ours is on the way. Go in peace, people loved by God, amen.