What Will You Do?

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

December 7, 2014

The Second Sunday in Advent

What Will You Do?

Isaiah 40:1-11

“Comfort, oh comfort my people,”

says your God.
“Speak softly and tenderly to Jerusalem,

but also make it very clear

That she has served her sentence

that her sin is taken care of —  forgiven!

She’s been punished enough and more than enough,

and now it’s over and done with.”

Thunder in the desert!

“Prepare for God’s arrival!
Make the road straight and smooth,
a highway fit for our God.

Fill in the valleys,

level off the hills,

Smooth out the ruts,

clear out the rocks.

Then God’s bright glory will shine

and everyone will see it.

Yes. Just as God has said.”

A voice says, “Shout!”
I said, “What shall I shout?”

“These people are nothing but grass,

their love fragile as wildflowers.
The grass withers,

the wildflowers fade if God so much as puffs on them.

Aren’t these people just so much grass?

True, the grass withers and the wildflowers fade,
but our God’s Word stands firm forever.”

Climb a high mountain, Zion.

You’re the preacher of good news.

Raise your voice. Make it good and loud, Jerusalem.
You’re the preacher of good news.

Speak loud and clear. Don’t be timid!

Tell the cities of Judah,

“Look! Your God!”
Look at him! God, the Master, comes in power,
ready to go into action.
He is going to pay back his enemies

and reward those who have loved him.

Like a shepherd, he will care for his flock,

gathering the lambs in his arms,
Hugging them as he carries them,

leading the nursing ewes to good pasture.

(from The Message)

You’ve bought your gifts for the UnTrim-a-Tree;

you’ve brought food for the Serve pantry;

you’ve returned your form for the Christmas Eve

fruit donation;

you’ve put money in a Salvation Army bucket;

you’ve sent a check or two to worthy charities;

you’ve bought gifts from the Advent Market;

perhaps you bought your Christmas cards

from UNICEF,

or the Humane Society, or a hospital.

We hear the message that Advent is a time

for preparation,

a time for watching and waiting,

and we all try to be mindful, attentive, aware.

We all try to do what we can

to prepare our hearts,

to prepare ourselves

for the coming of our Lord.

But this is such a busy time of year,

and there is so much to do.

There are presents to buy,

cards to send,

homes to make ready,

travel plans to finalize.

And all those things come on top of

our already busy lives

filled with work, school,

families, homes,

activities –

so many things we often feel overwhelmed,

and exhausted.

And now here is yet another call,

one more thing that we’re being asked to do,

to fit into an already overstuffed lives:

“Make the road straight and smooth,

a highway fit for our God.

Fill in the valleys,

level off the hills,

Smooth out the ruts,

clear out the rocks.”

For everything else we are already doing,

are we also being called to a construction project,

called to get behind the wheel of a bulldozer,

or wield a trowel, a pick, or a shovel?

The prophet Isaiah was speaking

more than 2500 years ago,

when the Babylonian exile had come to an end.

The Persians had routed the Babylonians,

the Babylonian empire collapsed,

and the people of Israel

were told they could return to their land,

return home.

But the people who would make the long journey

from the banks of the river Chebar

back to Judah and Israel,

were going back to a land they did not know,

a land they’d only heard about from their parents,

their grandparents, their aunts and uncles.

After almost 70 years in exile,

those who were going back

were men, women and children

who’d known only life in exile.

Still, the message to them was clear:

go home,

back to the land of your ancestors.

Go back.

Rebuild your homes,

your farms,

your businesses,

your lives.

And one more thing:

Go back and rebuild your faith, as well.

Rebuild the highway between you and God.

Go back and even as you rebuild

all the other parts of your lives,

make straight the highway

between your heart and God.

Where your ancestors made their roads

winding, twisting,

filled with roadblocks and detours,

choked with the weeds of distraction and neglect,

make yours smooth, strong, straight.

The Lord God has forgiven

the sins of the past,

the sins of your ancestors.

Just don’t make the same mistakes

your ancestors made,

mistakes that separated them from God.

This was the message the prophet was called

to speak to the people.

But the prophet wondered,

Why should I bother?

Are these people really any different

from their ancestors?

Won’t they do the same things as their parents,

their grandparents?

Wont’ they make the same mistakes,

and let life distract them away from God?

People are very consistent

in having inconsistent faith.

“It doesn’t matter,”

was the Lord’ God’s response.

The people returning from exile,

their children,

their children’s children,

even their descendants in faith

sitting centuries later in a church

on the other side of the world

in a place called Manassas,       

will most certainly be

consistent in having inconsistent faith.

But the Word of the Lord will be consistent;

The Word of the Lord will remain

consistent, constant;

and the word of the Lord is:

forgiveness,

mercy,

compassion,

grace and love.

Just five chapters earlier,

Isaiah prophesied the hope-filled future

that lay ahead for the children of God:

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,
the desert shall rejoice and blossom;
like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly,
and rejoice with joy and singing.
…They shall see the glory of the Lord,
the majesty of our God.

Strengthen the weak hands,

and make firm the feeble knees.
Say to those who are of a fearful heart,

‘Be strong, do not fear!

…Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
and the ears of the deaf unstopped;

then the lame shall leap like a deer,

and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.
For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,
and streams in the desert…

A highway shall be there,
and it shall be called the Holy Way;

… it shall be for God’s people;

no traveller, not even fools, shall go astray.
…And the ransomed of the Lord shall return,
and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;

they shall obtain joy and gladness;

and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”

(Isaiah 35)                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

        

This is the promise God graces us with in Advent,

the promise of hope,

the promise of joy,

the promise of peace.

And the stronger the highway we build

between ourselves and God

the more we will know this.

Of all the characters who walk the stage

this time of year,

perhaps it is the innkeeper

who mirrors us most accurately.

We know virtually nothing about him

other than the fact

that he turned away Joseph and Mary,

turned them away for what sounds like

a perfectly good reason:

the inn was full,

there wasn’t a room to be had.

        

What was in the innkeeper’s heart that evening?

What was on his mind as Joseph knocked on the door?  

Surely the innkeeper was not callous or cruel;

surely he was a man of faith, even inconsistent faith.

Was he focused on the inn he had to run?

The family he had to look after?

The living he had to make?

The guests he already had?

The innkeeper seemed to show a
glimmer of goodness,

some bit of compassion,

in not sending Joseph and Mary away,

telling them they were welcome to shelter

in the stable behind the inn.

                                            

Still, where was he when the baby was born?

Where was he when the shepherds came noisily

to rejoice?

Was he busy with his account book?

Was he attending to the needs of his guests?

Was he too tired to be bothered?

Clearly, he hadn’t prepared the highway,

hadn’t prepared his heart or himself

for God’s arrival.

                                                                                         

Our lives can get so full that before long

we “finally have eyes for nothing else,”

and we lose sight of the highway,

lose sight of God,

lose sight of the baby born for us;

lose sight of the Kingdom that awaits

in our Lord’s Advent.

Come, and prepare yourself;

Come and prepare yourself

for the advent of our Lord

here at our Lord’s Table.

Here you will find nourishment to help you build,

help you rebuild,

help you to make ready.

Here you will find nourishment to help you

Make the road straight and smooth,

a highway fit for our God.

Here you will find nourishment to help you

Fill in the valleys,
level off the hills,

Smooth out the ruts,

clear out the rocks.

Come.

Come to this table, all God’s children,

and “Prepare for God’s arrival!
that God’s bright glory might shine
and everyone see it.”

AMEN