In the sixth century BCE, during the Babylonian captivity, the people of Judah faced dire circumstances,
far worse than anything we can imagine.
Jerusalem, the beloved and holy city, had been utterly destroyed, burned and flattened.
Not one stone left upon another, as the scripture reports.
There had been massive casualties during the siege, untold numbers died.
Their king had been blinded and led off in chains.
Every leader of any consequence had similarly been carted off into exile to today’s Baghdad.
The people of the nation experienced tremendous shared suffering,
similar perhaps to when the Twin Towers fell, but far worse.
Can you imagine not just the Twin Towers, but all of Manhattan being flattened?
Can you imagine every significant building and monument on the mall in Washington, DC
being destroyed, falling to the ground like the Georgia Dome fell last week?
Can you imagine what it would be like for those California fires to continue to burn,
to tear through major cities, to destroy countless neighborhoods?
What must it have been like to be in Decatur or Atlanta in 1864,
when the city was burned and all the major homes destroyed,
when the sanctuary of Decatur Presbyterian Church was ransacked
and the pews removed to be fuel for the fires?

In such distress, the people cried out: “Is God still with us?”
From the shores of the distant Euphrates River, the Israelites wondered:
“Can we sing the Lord’s song in this foreign land?”
In the depth of despair, a word of comfort arises.
The prophet’s message turns from judgment to forgiveness.
To those exiles of Judah residing in Babylon, far from home, grieving, afraid, lonesome for home,
God made a promise. God promised to show up – to come and be with his people again.
God promised to renew their strength, to bring order out of their chaos, to give them hope and a future.

Before we read today’s text, we should recall the biblical reason for the exile.
After hundreds of years of the nation straying from God’s ways,
after generations had forgotten God’s laws and corrupted divine worship,
after decades of injustice in the courts and cynical oppression of the poor,
after many a false prophet had told the people: all is well, don’t worry, God is on our side…
finally God allowed the error of their ways to catch up with them.
The tragic defeat of Jerusalem and the exile of all the leaders to Babylon
is understood in scripture as God’s righteous judgment upon a wayward people.

In the book of Isaiah, chapters 1-39 outline the judgment of God prior to the exile.
In chapter 40, our text for today, the mood shifts.
Chapters 40-55 are attributed to a later author, called Deutero Isaiah.
This prophet writes post-exile, after the penalty has been paid and new life is yet to come.

Hear the Word of God: Isaiah 40:1-11
Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term,
that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.
A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.’
A voice says, ‘Cry out!’ And I said, ‘What shall I cry?’
All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it;
surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades;
but the word of our God will stand for ever.
Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength,
O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear;
say to the cities of Judah, ‘Here is your God!’
See, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him,
and his recompense before him.
He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.

Yesterday morning, after a friendly neighborhood snowball fight,
I went on a walk with my yellow Labrador, Chevy.
At the top of the observatory hill at Agnes Scott College, we came upon a small tree,
probably less than 5 years old, that had been planted in just the right spot.
The young tree had shed its leaves for the winter, but was blanketed on each of its small branches
with a layer of bright snow, glittering in the sudden sunshine.
It was a perfect image, so perfect that people walking by were stopping to take notice.
Some were pulling off their gloves and digging in their pockets to take pictures with their cell phones.

There is a special feeling that arises when we see such a sight,
like the feeling of seeing a smiling snowman in your neighbor’s yard,
This feeling is similar to hearing the sounds of children playing
or running into an old friend at a Christmas party.
Yesterday, with the tree up and decorated, and the beauty of the snow,
and a goodly portion of the Christmas presents purchased,
there were moments when many of us probably felt like singing that old Andy Williams song:

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.
With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you ‘Be of good cheer’,
It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

But I must confess that I have not felt that way for the entire week.
I confess to have been holding onto some anxiety about long “to do” lists,
both at the church and at home. I confess to some anxiety
related to all that moving back into these wonderfully renovated facilities entails.
I realize some low level stress related to an overly full gmail inbox, and overly full calendar.
And then there is also this growing prayer list for our church family that I keep in my front pocket.
My prayer list reminds me of all those for whom this is not the most wonderful time of the year;
it reminds me that 2017 has not been the most wonderful year for many.
For some of our dear friends and church members, this particular season has been a time of grief.
Many have found themselves with the holiday season blues,
exacerbated by all the messages that tell them that this should be a joyful season,
that they should be filled with the Christmas spirit.

Someone told me the other day that they feel a lack of strength,
a lack of strength to be the person they want to be and to do the things they want to do.
This person shared that their grief over a recent loss has become more poignant during the holidays,
almost debilitating.
Another person shared that they feel great pressure this season, like many Decembers,
related to gift-giving and decorating and entertaining,
pressure that has creeps up on them and becomes almost overwhelming.
I can remember speaking with someone last December about their unfulfilled expectations.
They build up in their mind every year high expectations about the holidays,
based on childhood recollections, about what Christmas should be like for their family,
then discover that the reality of the season and their current circumstances just do not match up.

Any of these conditions can lead a person to ask: “Where is God in all of this?”
Or, as the psalmist cried out: “Why, O soul, are you disquieted within me?
or, “How long, O Lord? Will you hide yourself forever?”

Barbara Brown Taylor is an Episcopal rector who teaches college religion classes
and writes intriguing, provocative books about the Christian experience.
One of her books, titled “When God Is Silent”, includes this quote:
“Very few people come to me because they want to discuss something God said to them last night.
The large majority come because they cannot get God to say anything at all.
They have asked sincerely as they know how for answers, for guidance, for peace,
but they are still missing those things.”
God’s absence, God’s silence, provokes questions from us.
Taylor continues: “A hiding of the divine face can bring people out of their own hiding.”
Then, once God has our attention, we begin to get our answers, and we often we discover
that it has not been God’s absence from us that is the problem, but our absence from God.”

In the past few weeks, I have become more aware than usual of the suffering of the homeless in Atlanta.
With the closing of the shelter at Peachtree and Pine,
and the beginning of cold and even dangerous weather,
we have become more aware of the conditions of those coming to our doors for sack lunches,
those who are sleeping on the steps of the courthouse,
those families with young children who are living out of their cars.
Homelessness in Atlanta and Decatur is a societal ill, affecting all ages and education levels.
Homelessness is one of those ills that leads many to wonder whether God is still with us, after all.

As tragic as homelessness is, there is another social ill that is far more widespread.
This illness includes the homeless. It includes those who are hungry and unemployed
and those without health care, but this illness goes beyond them.
The dis-ease affects the people of every nation, of every race, religion, and economic background.
This dis-ease affects the body, reducing its strength and sapping its energy.
This dis-ease affects the heart, draining the soul of joy and hope.
This dis-ease, perhaps the most pervasive and damaging and dangerous illness in our community,
is loneliness.
If the Church were to recognize and address more effectively the spiritual illness of loneliness,
we just may begin to find the capacity to address other major challenges, like homelessness and hunger.

The prophet’s message today is for all those who are lonely, all those who feel scattered,
all who are hungry in body or in soul, all who are afraid and worried about their future.
The prophet’s message comes to those for whom God seems utterly absent,
who have received no word from God in quite some time.
The prophet’s message comes to those who are experiencing grief and despair, futility and confusion.

The Good News from God, as declared by the prophet, is that God will show up again.
God will return to be with his people.
The time of absence, the time of God turning God’s back and hiding, is soon to be over.
The punishment has come to an end, the penalty has been paid.
A new season of hopefulness, of meaning and purpose, of fulfillment and joy,
is just around the corner.
“Comfort, O comfort, my people, says your God.”
Make them strong again. Invigorate them, fortify them.
I, myself, will give them this strength and hope, says the Lord.
I will encourage, and relieve, and console them.
I will come among them and change their entire way of thinking.
I will shift the mood of this nation from great despair to the opposite pole of great hope for the future.

In the fullness of time, my Word will come, not just through a prophet,
but through more than a prophet – a king.
This Word will be embodied in One born to be prophet, priest, and king for all people.
A humble child will be born in a manger, and in him my Word will be flesh.
And this Word will take root, and will spread throughout all the world.
The child born to be born in the manger will be Emmanuel, God with us.
His name will be Yeshua, Jesus, God saves.
He will come to strengthen us, to comfort us, to change our way of thinking.
He will come to renew our hearts, our minds, and our souls.

We should not expect that life will always be of good cheer.
We should not expect that everything will be perfect and we will always be happy.
We should not expect that all our hopes will be fulfilled and all our dreams will come true.
But we should expect this, in this most “wonder-ful” time of the year: to know comfort.
We should expect to experience, in some way, the very presence of God, even if after years of absence.

Chapter 40 ends even more powerfully than it begins.
It begins with “Comfort, O comfort, my people says your God.”
and it ends with these verses:
Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel,
‘My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God’?
Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless.
Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted;
but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.

Comfort, O comfort, my people, says your God.
Speak tenderly to those who are in distress.
The Good Shepherd is coming to feed his flock. He will gather the lambs within his arms,
and carry them in his bosom. And he will gently lead the mother sheep.
This is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Todd Speed
Decatur Presbyterian Church
Decatur, Georgia
December 10, 2017