But Even after the Deadest Winter, the Grass Still Springs Green

Sermon for Advent 2 – Isaiah 40:1-11 & Mark 1:1-8

How are you preparing the way of the Lord? This is a core question that comes to us in our season of Advent, but truthfully it feels pretty accusational, doesn’t it? I confess that it fills me with guilt. I immediately obsess over everything I haven’t done but think I should. But, what does it really mean? And, what if it’s not really our job in the first place?

In our Old Testament reading for today, the prophet Isaiah has a lot to say about preparing the way of the Lord. He describes a vision of something like a heavenly boardroom. Isaiah is there with God and some other folks. We don’t know who they are, but we know what they’re discussing. The exile problem. Remember, Jersualem was a trainwreck. Corruption. Injustice. Unrighteousness. God warned them but they didn’t listen. So, Babylon comes in and drags folks away. They had power and riches, but now they’re exiles in a foreign land, and they’re drowning in lament. They’ve hit rock-bottom. They can’t ignore God anymore. So in this heavenly boardroom, God’s talking about next steps. “Comfort my people. Tell them they’ve served their term. Their penalty is paid. They’ve received from the Lord’s hand double for all their sins.” Double. That’s heavy-duty. Maybe sending Babylon was kind of a sledgehammer.

Now everyone in the room is starting to get excited. Someone cries “in the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord! Make straight a highway for our God!” It’s an ambitious plan. Valleys lifted. Mountains made low. Uneven ground made level. Rough places made plain. Now, we’re not talking about geography. We’re talking about completely a whole new kind of Jerusalem. Where the marginalized have agency and dignity. Where the mighty are yanked down from their thrones and made humble. Where equal justice is finally a way of life for everyone. Where all folks behold the glory of the Lord. Don’t you wish we lived THERE?

Another voice says “Cry out!” Isaiah’s so excited. He loves this vision of Jerusalem. He says “What shall I cry?” But they warn him, “people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. They wither and fade.” Remember, people are people. Light a fire under our butts and we jump, but we always peter out after a while. But, the word of God stands forever. “So get you up a high mountain. Lift up your voice with strength. Don’t fear. Say here is your God!” That’s weird. Why all the warning? What’s so controversial about this message? Well, the message starts out great. “The Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him.” Israel loves that. They want to rebuild and be powerful again. But then Isaiah keeps going. “He will feed his flock like a shepherd, gather the lambs in his arms, carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.” That’s offensive. Now that everyone’s back home, they’ve already forgotten about the exile. All they’re thinking about is how to make Jerusalem powerful again. No one wants to hear that they still need to be rescued by God. Isaiah better get himself up a really high mountain so they can’t knock him down.

So what happens? Like they say, history always repeats itself. Fast forward 500 years, and not much changes. The Roman Empire owns Jerusalem and calls the shots. It’s not Babylon, but it’s the same old corruption and injustice. Poor folks still getting left behind. Widows and orphans fend for themselves. The mountains and valleys are just as harsh as ever. So much for preparing the way of the Lord. Sure, they got the temple rebuilt, and it’s all huge and impressive, but it’s just for show. No real piety there. It leaves folks feeling empty. So when this weird guy named John shows up, wearing a hair shirt, eating locusts. Imagine the smell. Yet for as repulsive as John seems, there’s something holy about it too. This guy, he walks the talk. So when he starts preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, that gets everyone running out to get dunked by him. He’s everything the temple isn’t.

Except once folks do it, it feels great for a while, but it doesn’t last. Normal life creeps back in and it kills us. We know how that feels. Our sins come back with a vengeance. Our same selfishness and carelessness. The ways we let down or betray the folks we love. What about those sins of the past that we can’t seem to forget? The words and deeds that we’re stuck with? They come back to mind when we least expect them and we just can’t get free from it. 2000 years after John and we’re still struggling. We want to prepare the way of the Lord. We talk about it and pray about it, but at the end of the day how’s that really going? For as hard as we try, we just can’t seem to get our lives sorted out. Isaiah says, “the grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it. Surely the people are grass.” John may be a holy man, but even he says. “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals.” If even the holiest of holy men is powerless in the face of sin and death, what hope do we have?

The good news is that we have all the hope in the world, because of the one who John promised would come. Jesus, God’s only Son, who came as one of us, a baby in a manger, and we could never have been prepared for that. But that did not deter him. He made his own path, straight to the cross, where he suffered and died for our sake, but after 3 days he was raised from the dead in the power and glory of his resurrection. Isaiah says “See, the Lord God comes with might. His reward is with him, and his recompense before him.” His recompense is his forgiveness that he freely gives to you and to me. Where we fail to make amends for loss and harm, he gives his word that makes all things new. Like our gospel says, this is only the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Jesus isn’t done with us.

Of course, it’s hard to believe that Jesus is making all things new. We know our daily struggles. How often does normal life feel like jumping from drama to drama, where we just can’t seem to move the needle? Yet Isaiah says “he will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms and carry them in his bosom.” That’s why Jesus baptizes us with the Holy Spirit to give you and me faith, because he wants us to know that things aren’t always as they seem. He doesn’t take away our drama, because he wants to give us the joy of seeing new life springing from death. Where compassion and mercy fills our hearts for our neighbors because our problems help us to see theirs. Jesus doesn’t sort out our lives. Instead he gives us his peace that passes all understanding, so that when we share that peace with others, they’ll know that we really mean exactly what we say.

In all these ways we get to trust and help others to see that God really is straightening and leveling this crooked, uneven world. Not by force or by strong-arming us, but by softening our hearts, so that we can reach those stranded on mountains and sit with folks sitting in valleys. Sure, it’s hard work. We still peter out. Isaiah says, “the grass withers, the flower fades, surely the people are grass.” He’s right. But even after the deadest winter grass still springs green. Grass doesn’t know how. It just happens. May Jesus make it so for us. Thanks be to God.

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