For Fools Like Us--December 19, 2025

For Fools Like Us--December 19, 2025

"A highway shall be there,
  and it shall be called the Holy Way;
 the unclean shall not travel on it,
  but it shall be for God’s people;
  no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray.
 No lion shall be there,
  nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it;
 they shall not be found there,
  but the redeemed shall walk there.
 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 35:8-10)

Every time I come across these words, it makes me smile. I see myself in that line of fools, walking along God's pathway.

I caught myself smiling in self-recognition again this past Sunday when these words were read, too.  

This scene from the prophet Isaiah's book gives us a glimpse of the utter certainty of God's saving grace.  It is, quite literally, a fool-proof sort of salvation.  The prophet here is offering a vision of hope for people who felt stuck in exile in Babylon and couldn't imagine how they would ever make it back home to their own lands and their own lives.  The Babylonian armies had captured and deported countless people of Judea by brute force, and they now languished in limbo in Babylonian territory, hundreds of miles away from their homelands but without the means, power, or ability to go back to the only places they had ever lived.  Even if they could escape the watchful eyes of the Babylonians and leave, they didn't know how to get back home, and it was a dangerous and difficult journey through unknown wilderness to get there.  It seemed hopeless--there were a million ways it could all go wrong, you know?

So here comes, Isaiah, envisioning that God will make a way--nothing short of a highway to stretch across that vast wilderness, which will bring them all the way home.  You can almost hear Isaiah anticipating the worries and questions of the exiles and getting his responses ready to assuage them:  

"But how will we know how to get home?"  And the prophet answers, "God is building the road to go directly to Jerusalem, so all you have to do is just follow the pathway laid out for you."

"But what if there are dangerous Babylonians on the road following us, or what if people with leprosy who sometimes have to go live out in the wilderness come up to us and we're afraid of getting sick?"  Isaiah pre-emptively answers, "Nothing unclean will be on the road, so you don't have to worry about getting contaminated by anybody or captured by a Babylonian."

"Okay, but what if there are lions or other predators along the way? They live in the wilderness, and we would be defenseless against them if we went out there!"  So Isaiah says, like a parent calming a child who is afraid of monsters under the bed, "There will no lions, or any other kind of ravenous beast there--I promise!"

And as if to remove any other unspoken fears, the prophet also adds this beautiful, humbling detail: "No traveler, not even fools, will go astray."  What an absolutely stunning promise.  Even when our own stupidity would have gotten us lost, God's kind of pathway keeps us on the right road.  Even when our own blockheadedness would have led us into a ditch or gotten confused about the exit signs, God insists we will not end up in the middle of nowhere.  Even when our own fear might spur us to turn tail and go back to the now-familiar misery of exile in Babylon, God's road will get us all the way home.  God's saving grace is literally fool-proof: even we cannot mess it up with our own foolishness.

I am convinced that this notion from Isaiah 35 is not an exception: it is the Standard Operating Procedure for God in the world.   God's way of saving us doesn't leave loopholes that our own stubbornness or stupidity can get through.  God's kind of rescue doesn't leave open the possibility that we will mess it up by our foolishness, orneriness, doubt, or even our sins.  God's way of saving the world is utterly foolproof--which is to say, even fools like us cannot undo it.

So often at this time of year, when we tell the story of Jesus' birth, we take notice of how precarious and fragile the whole story seems. We ask questions, maybe like the exiles who heard from Isaiah did, naming all of our what-ifs:  what if Mary had said no? What if Joseph had broken off the engagement? What if Mary's parents didn't believe her story about a divine pregnancy and had her stoned to death? What if the shepherds didn't believe the angels' message?  What if mean ol' bully King Herod had successfully tricked the Magi into giving away the location of the child they found? What if they hadn't understood the meaning of the star? There are a million ways it could have all gone wrong, you know?

And yet, the assurance of the Scriptures is that even for all the ways God's movement in the world seems fallible and fragile, God's gracious saving is ultimately foolproof.  God has already figured our foolishness, our fearfulness, and our sinfulness into the recipe, and God's commitment to redeem and restore are unthwartable all the same.  Perhaps God has decided already that all salvation has to be foolproof, because all of us in need of saving are fools.  But just as the prophet said to those people despondent in exile centuries ago, so God says to us as well: "No matter what, my love will make a way.  No matter how big the fears are and no matter how small your confidence is, I will bring you home."

That is news that is worth holding onto today, tomorrow, throughout this Christmas season, and always: God's way of saving and bringing us home really is foolproof--even for fools like us.

Lord God, despite our fears and worries about what could go wrong along the way, bring us home and bring us to you.

The Divine Agenda--December 18, 2025

The Divine Agenda--December 18, 2025

"Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
  and the ears of the deaf shall be opened;
  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;
  the burning sand shall become a pool
  and the thirsty ground springs of water;
 the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp;
  the grass shall become reeds and rushes." (Isaiah 35:5-7)

As it turns out, God has an agenda. In fact, God is up front about it and just lays it out there for everyone to hear.  God is committed to healing and bringing things to life.

This passage from the book of the prophet Isaiah, which many of us heard this past Sunday in worship, almost hits my ears like a press conference, where God (through the prophet, playing the role of press secretary) announces a new set of priorities and plans.  And as Isaiah tells it, it is the policy of the Yahweh Administration (or, as we sometimes call it, the kingdom of heaven or the Reign of God) to help the hurting, to mend our wounds, and to fill our empty and barren desert spaces with signs of life.  This, the prophet says, is what God is up to.  These, Isaiah tells us, are the sort of things that matter to God.  This is the divine agenda: not destruction and warfare, not violence and bloodshed, and not conquest and domination, but relief of suffering and restoration of creation.

Over the course of my four-and-half decades of life on this planet, I've lived through plenty of televised press conferences, official statements, and presidential addresses.  You have, too, I'm sure. We've seen our share of Important-Looking People standing at podiums or sitting at ponderous desks, and we know their routines. We have seen their faces heavy with looks of gravitas, and we have heard the opening salutation, intoned almost like a liturgy: "My fellow... (Ohioans... or Citizens... or Americans...)." And we know what it is like to listen to the Official Agenda of the Day being set for us. We have heard the announcement of new wars... and the breaking of terrible and tragic news... and the warning of belt-tightening budget measures... or, in particularly rotten times, the scapegoating of new folks to be identified as "enemies" or "threats" for us to focus our hatred on and take the scrutiny off of the one behind the desk.  We have lived through plenty of those times to know the whole routine.  

And I suspect Isaiah had lived through plenty of that, too. Of course, for him, it was the official pronouncements of kings rather than presidents or governors, but he had seen more than his share of Official Agendas being pronounced for the people to hear. He had heard press releases announcing new taxes being levied to shore up Judah's armies in case the Assyrians came knocking. He had seen palace propaganda about how the new king would make everybody prosperous and restore the old glory days of King David and Solomon... only to be another disappointment. He had lived through declarations of war, denunciations of enemies, and promises from podiums about smiting their opponents and bringing back the "good ol' days".  And in response, Isaiah speaks a different word.  Isaiah reports on God's agenda, and even though at first blush it might sound like a list of policy positions and action items the same as any Official National Address he had heard before from the palace, on the prophet's lips, it is a whole new story.  God's agenda is about bringing forth life rather than doling out death.  God's agenda is about abundance out of dry desert ground, rather than the announcement of turning other people's homes into bomb-strewn wastelands in war.  God's agenda is about healing the wounds of those who suffer, not about labeling a new cohort of villains to scapegoat. Isaiah is giving us the policy priorities of the Reign of God.

It is worth noting, too, that Jesus takes these images and descriptions as hallmarks of his own ministry and calling in the Gospels.  Back on Sunday, and then in this past Monday's devotion, we heard the story of John the Baptizer sending messengers to ask Jesus if he really was the one they were waiting for.  And we heard Jesus' reply, as well, which should sound familiar now that we've been looking at Isaiah 35. Jesus tells the messengers, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with a skin disease are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them" (Matthew 11:4-5).  The restoration of life to those who are looking for healing.  The freedom to move for those who had been constrained and constricted.  To those who seek healing for their ears, their ears, their limbs, and their bodies, Jesus gives it freely. To those who were thirsty for good news like the desert waits for the rain, Jesus speaks it freely. Jesus sees himself as the embodiment of the press-release announcement of the prophet Isaiah, and so he points to those examples as evidence that he is bringing about the agenda of the Yahweh Administration.

We should note, too, as we hinted back on Monday, that John the Baptizer had had a rather different set of expectations of God's anointed one, the Messiah.  He had been advertising fire and fury, wrath and destruction on God's enemies and the unrighteous.  John had pictured something closer to the standard "Big Speech" from a demagogue at a desk: calling down condemnation on the ones labeled "enemies" and declaring God's vengeful war against the wicked, that sort of thing.  Jesus, however, deliberately avoids that kind of imagery. He points instead to the ways that he brings life, because he is convinced that these are ultimately God's agenda in the world.

I wonder: when people hear and see us in the world, what impression do they get of God's agenda in the world?  From what they see in us, do other people assume that God is embarking on a culture war, zapping the not-good-enough, and rounding up new "enemies "to be destroyed and new "threats" to be eliminated?  Or do they see signs of God bringing the world to life? Do they see healing and wholeness, and the restoration of creation to bring forth abundance? Whether we like it or not, and whether we realize it or not, we are all walking spokespersons and press secretaries for God, too, like the prophet Isaiah.  And what people hear and see from us they will presume points to the priorities and vision of God in the world.  What sort of messages do you think we have been sending?

And, with Isaiah's vision guiding us now, what kind of message do we want to send today? What would it look like to do that... now?

Lord God, allow us to reflection your priorities in the world today for the watching eyes and listening ears around us.

For the Days When It Hurts--December 17, 2025

For the Days When It Hurts--December 17, 2025

"Strengthen the weak hands,
     and make firm the feeble knees.
Say to those who are of a fearful heart,
'     Be strong, do not fear!
Here is your God.
     He will come with vengeance,
with terrible recompense.
     He will come and save you'." [Isaiah 35:3-4]

There's not a day that it doesn't hurt.

Somewhere, in some way, all of us are carrying hurts and wearing scars from what we've been through. All of us bear the aches in our bodies or our hears, or both, and some days it is just a relief to be able to say so, rather than thinking the "religious thing to do" is to push it down and fake a smile.

But some days, we just can't. Our hands are weak, our knees are feeble, and our hearts are trembling with fear or tiredness or grieving or all of the above. And some days we don't know what to do with all of that.

It can be especially tough to be wearing those wounds in December--not just because the cold can add one more layer of "blah," but because the songs on the radio and the lights in the yards all insist that it's "the most wonderful time of the year." And sometimes, it's all we can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

So, what do we do about it? What do we do with the sadness we cannot shake, or the disappointment and disgust that bubbles up when we turn on the news, or the smallness we feel at the size and scope of troubles that threaten to overpower us? And while we're asking things, is the answer from our faith only that "one day in the distant future it will be better in heaven?" Because, to be really honest, sometimes that's what it sounds like from a lot of Respectable Religious folk: sometimes the only hope they have to offer is a sales pitch that goes like this: "Everything will be terrible in this life, and there's nothing you can do about it to make the world any brighter now, but one day in heaven, it will all be sunshine and rainbows. So suck it up and get back to work making widgets!" And to tell the truth, that is not much comfort.

Well, there's good news--that's not really how the biblical writers see things, either. Voices like Isaiah's here don't just describe heaven and hope that visions of pearly gates or golden streets will goad us into working another day. To be sure, there is the Big Hope of the God who saves in the end. That much is certain, from the declaration, "Here is your God... he will come and save you." But Isaiah doesn't only have the hope of some distant future, or as Marty Haugen's famous hymn lyric goes, "not in some heaven light-years away." Isaiah speaks a concrete word of hope for us who are just limping along through our days, and he speaks encouragement for the present as well as the future.

Isaiah calls on the beloved community to strengthen each other. He tells us to build one another up and to lend our strength and stability to each other, so that we can endure the most difficult days. We are given not just End-Times-Afterlife-Big-Picture-Resurrection-Hope, but Present-Moment-Daily-Life-Immediate-Situation hope as well. You know, little resurrections within the found family of God's people. Small renewals that make it possible for us to endure the difficult days by having each other's backs. Ordinary miracles of healing that let our wounds become scars, and our scars become strength. Isaiah's word here is, "Until the day when all is put right and all our tears are wiped away by God's own hand, well, then, YOU be the ones God raises up to wipe each other's tears away!"

In other words, YOU be the ones to strengthen each other and steady each other, until the moment when God's hand touches us all to wellness. Until the day when "all will be well and all will be well and all manner of things will be made well" as Julian of Norwich wrote, well then, YOU be the ones who make it at least bearable for each other. Lift each other up. Carry each other when you have to. Let yourself be carried. Let down your guard, and drop your fake smiles. Be present for one another, and there in your midst, God will be present through your love for one another, until the day when you see God face to face in glory.

That gives us a plan for facing the day, while holding out our Big-Picture Hope, too. Instead of just being told to tough it out until the afterlife, we are given the invitation and the calling to strengthen one another, and to encourage one another--and in turn, to be strengthened and encouraged by the promise that God will not let the hurt, or even death, get the last word. In fact, we are told to encourage each other, not simply with the promise "God is coming to save the day...someday," but that God is already present, right here and right now. "Here is your God," the prophet tells us to remind each other. Not merely, "Off there in the distance is your God."

So what do we do with the pain we are all bearing? We carry each other. We honor one another's hurts and let them be named. We offer our strength to one another, and we let others' strength be a gift to us when we need it, too. And we keep pointing, so that each of us will see when things are unclear, "Here is your God."

There's not a day that it doesn't hurt. But neither is there a day when God is not here in the hurt with us, sending people to us, and sending us to others as well.

Strengthen our weak hands and feeble knees, O Lord, and remind us that you are here with us.

God's Grand Restoration Project--December 16, 2025

God's Grand Restoration Project--December 16, 2025

 "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 shouting.
 The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it,
  the majesty of Carmel and Sharon.
 They shall see the glory of the Lord,
  the majesty of our God." (Isaiah 35:1-2)

Apparently, God's intention isn't just to get people into heaven; God intends to bring all of creation fully to life.

That vision certainly includes our hope of life beyond death, or as our sloppy shorthand might put it, "going to heaven when we die," but it is also much bigger.  When God moves in the world, it is not merely to collect up the human beings in order to whisk them away off to float on the clouds somewhere--it is to bring the whole world to life, turning even dry and barren waste lands into blossoming gardens. God isn't interested in plucking us up and taking us somewhere "better" while the world burns; rather, God is engaged in renewing the earth completely.  The news of God's coming is good news for the crocuses, too.

This passage from the book of Isaiah, which many of us heard in worship this past Sunday, reminds us of just how widely God's concern reaches.  As the prophet pictures God acting in the world, and what it will be like when God's Chosen Anointed One (or "Messiah") comes, he doesn't limit his description to human terms.  We don't hear things like "You'll know the Messiah is coming because the markets will all be up," but rather the prophet says, "When God passes through, you'll see the crocus blooming in the desert." We human beings are a part of God's grand restoration project, but we are not the only ones.  We are a part of the vast and varied family of God, absolutely; but we are not the only members of that family.   God cares about the stream beds in the wilderness, the flowers waiting for the rain so they can burst into bloom, as well as the wolves and lambs we heard about last week, who are waiting a new and peaceable kingdom where old enemies can be reconciled and no one has to be afraid of being hunted by anybody.  All of it belongs. All of it is a part of the community--the commonwealth, so to speak--of God's Reign.

When we forget that, we end up shrinking our Advent hope into merely afterlife insurance.  We end up caricaturing God into the bearded fellow from the cartoons who lives up on a cloud and only cares about snatching up a handful of well-behaved saints to live in the sky while everything "below" crumbles.  And we end up missing out on just how big a family God has brought us into.  We have a place beside our cousins the crocuses and cats, our uncles the mountains, our aunts the butterflies, and all of our human sisters and brothers as well.  God intends to make it all new, not merely to settle for a segment of us and giving up on the rest of creation.

Hold onto that truth today--and throughout the rest of this season.  The One we are waiting for isn't merely recruiting for members of an elite social club; the coming Christ is intent on renewing all of creation.  The child in the manger isn't born just for the sake of getting a few souls onto the Good List; he has come to bring everything and everyone more fully to life. And we are longing for more than just a record close for the stock market--we are waiting for the restoration of all things.

Come, Lord Jesus, and make all things new.

Bringing Our Disappointment--December 15, 2025

Bringing Our Disappointment--December 15, 2025

"When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, 'Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?' Jesus answered them, 'Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me'." [Matthew 11:2-6]

Some people say that the "right" thing to feel in the season of Advent are emotions like "hope," "peace," "joy," and "love." Sometimes we even say that's what each of the candles on the Advent wreath are for. But John the Baptizer offers a minority report (doesn't he always?). John's witness suggests that the right responses to this waiting season are doubt, anger, disillusionment, and outrage.

And he's not wrong about that.

Or at least, maybe Advent needs to be about those difficult emotions before it can be about the pastel pink and purple notions of peace and joy.

Let me suggest that we sit with this scene for a bit today, before we rush on to talking about hope and peace and joy. John the Baptizer is in jail, and it's not fair. He's gotten himself into trouble with Herod, the arrogant narcissist who sits on a puppet's throne, having been placed in his position by the foreign power of Rome. And honestly, John's not there for anything "religious" that he said. John ended up making enemies in high places because he got political. John didn't say anything that wasn't true, but he called out Herod as a fraud and a crook, and he wouldn't keep his mouth shut about Herod's uncontrolled habit of dumping his old wives for newer, more attractive models when it suited him.

John even saw through the way Herod pretended to be religious--he wasn't even completely ethnically Jewish (he was Idumean, actually), and yet he thoguht that if he undertook renovation projects to the Temple, it would puff up his reputation and get the support of the Respectable Religious crowd, as well as give him more large marble monuments on which he could have his name engraved. But John had seen through Herod's bluster and propaganda and called him out for being a fraud and a crook--and it landed John in a dungeon waiting a date with an executioner's ax.

Now, John was a brave and principled man, and he was willing to suffer for the cause of righteousness and for the sake of truth-telling. But he also had pinned his hopes on the notion that Jesus of Nazareth was in fact the promised Messiah--and John figured that surely, the Messiah would strike down the pompous pretender on the throne, Herod, right? Surely, the Messiah would not be able to stand such an arrogant and obviously hollow crook remaining in power. And certainly, the Messiah would free John from being wrongfully imprisoned simply for having spoken truth to power... right?

And so, understandably, John finds himself in prison feeling outraged and angry, doubting and disillusioned. He is disappointed that Jesus hasn't busted him out of jail or raised up an army to take over Jerusalem from Herod and the Romans. He is angry that a rotten crook like Herod seems to be getting away with his crookedness. He is outraged that the others around him either don't seem to be able to see how terrible and self-absorbed Herod is, or worse--that they can see it, and they just don't care! And because it looks like Herod's pettiness and corruption are going to go unchallenged while he wastes away in prison, John is beginning to doubt whether Jesus really was the one he has been waiting for. All of his mental pictures of a Messiah busting down the door, guns blazing, to break him out of jail are evaporating like morning dew, and John is on the edge of despair.

Honestly, can you blame him?

The trouble with Jesus, of course, is that he reserves the right not to conform to our expectations. If we expected him to recruit soldiers to "take back the country for God" or fight childish bullies and violent tyrants with his own bullying and violence, we are are going to be disappointed. He is the one we have been waiting for--that much is true and certain--but he is not bound to be what we expected. And that's part of what makes this season of waiting so difficult. It's hard to be full of hope and peace and love and joy when you look around at the rottenness of the world around you and you can't shake the question, "Doesn't anybody else see this? Isn't anybody else upset that this is how things are? Isn't God upset at it all--and if so, why hasn't God fixed it all yet?" Our wish is for God to come and zap the world into instant righteousness--of course, that's righteousness as WE want to define it, where God hates all the people I already hate, and where God's pet peeves are conveniently my own. We want a God who busts down doors, locked and loaded, who stands his ground with righteous fury, and who cuts down the crooked Herods of the world instantly, rather than letting them think they are winning the day. As Robert Farrar Capon has put it, we want a God who looks more like Superman, punching his way to victory, rather than a God who goes to a cross and dies at the hands of crooked pretenders like Herod and brutal heathens like Pilate or Caesar. And when we see that Jesus' way of doing things is different from what we expected, we can't help but be a little disappointed.

But what we are given is Jesus... and Jesus does not seems at all interested in catering to our bloodlust. And if we have pinned our hopes on God fitting with our expectations, well, we like John are going to find that waiting for Jesus looks a lot more like doubt and anger than hope and peace.

And this is where I think we need to hold onto John rather than just dismissing him. See, I'm convinced that John is right about the crookedness of Herod and the rottenness of a society that just accepted his claims to be "King of the Jews." I think John is right to be angry, in the same way that outrage is sometimes a sign you are just paying attention. If we aren't upset at the rottenness and crookedness of the world, we are complicit in it. So in that sense, anger is appropriate for Advent, if it is the kind of anger over what is wrong in the world that also then leads to action to put things right.

But just being angry isn't enough. And assuming that God has to work with our preferred methods is rather arrogant, too. Jesus' response to John reminds him--and us--that God is indeed dealing with the brokenness of the world around us. But God's way of dealing with it is to heal it and to bring it back to life, yes, even to raise what is dead in us, rather than to just zap and shoot and smash things.

In a sense we all need to get to the place where John is at some point in our life of faith--we need to move from complacency to urgent outrage over the rottenness in the world. But so long as we stay there, we will find ourselves imprisoned in that anger. Jesus can take it when we bring our disappointments to him, but he does have it in mind to change our thinking. Jesus enters there into that dungeon and brings life to us so that we are not stuck there forever, but we can't short-circuit the process and skip the honest anger that John has. We need to be upset over the things that upset God. We need to, as the old prayer goes, let our hearts be broken by the things that break the heart of God. And from there, we will be ready to let Jesus come on his own terms--not the conquering army general, but the baby in the manger. The Jesus we are waiting for these days is indeed the One through whom God puts all things right that are broken and crooked, but Jesus insists that his way of doing it goes through the saving and giving of life rather than through Herod's same old violent tactics. Ultimately, if Jesus gives in to John's revenge fantasy and would zap Herod with holy laser-beams out of his eyes, then Herod wins and the world really is just a game of King of the Hill. If Jesus fights Herod's self-serving violence with self-serving violence of his own, then nothing has really changed or been redeemed. So Jesus' way of putting things right will be, well, just what Jesus says to John through his messengers: the blind will be given sight, the lame will walk, the lepers will be cleansed, the dead will be raised, and the poor will be given good news.

So here is my prayer for you in these Advent days. I pray for you--and for myself as well--not the easy peace of just ignoring the rottenness of the world around, but the fiery love that can be awakened to anger about what is crooked, and the honest hope that looks to Jesus' way of putting things right rather than the same old tired ways of Herod the pompous puppet.

And when we have first been stirred up, we can then be given the deep peace of the God who deals with the brokenness of the world from a manger and a cross, rather than from a protected throne or behind a trigger.

May we be troubled over the crookedness of things like John is... and then may we be brought to life by Jesus who comes into our captivity and transforms us in his love.

Lord Jesus, where we are complacent, stir us up. And where we need to let you redirect us, turn us around.

 

Knowing God Will Change Us--December 12, 2025

Knowing God Will Change Us--December 12, 2025

"They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain,
 for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
  as the waters cover the sea.
On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples;
     the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious." (Isaiah 11:9-10)

When we know God fully, we will no longer need to hurt each other.

When we truly understand the character of God, we will no longer seek to destroy one another.

When we dare to see the world from God's perspective, all peoples and all nations will be able to live together, drawn together by God's chosen one, who comes from the old family line of Jesse, not merely coexisting, but in community.

This is really mind-blowing stuff if you think about it. These words, which conclude the passage from Isaiah that many of us heard this past Sunday in worship, give us one more glimpse of that "peaceable kingdom" we've been exploring over the last several days.  Earlier, Isaiah had pictured all nations streaming to the mountain of God--to the very Temple in Jerusalem!--to be taught by God.  Then we heard the prophet describing a new creation where creatures themselves are changed so that former enemies are reconciled and can live safely and in peace with one another: wolves and lambs, cows and bears, leopards and kids, all together and none afraid.

And to hear Isaiah tell it, all of that change--which is pretty radical, to be honest--is made possible by knowing God more deeply.  The more fully we know God--not just facts "about" God, but to know the heart of God's character--the more completely we will be led away from wanting or needing to hurt one another.  The more truly we know God's ways, the less we will be driven to cause harm, or to justify hurting others in the name of getting what we want.  Isaiah seems to think that if we believe it is acceptable to hurt, destroy, or regard someone else as "less than," it is a sign that we don't really know God.  From the prophet's perspective, all nations are welcome and none can be dismissed as disposable, as trash, or as garbage. Isaiah says that kind of mutual care is what happens when "the earth is full of the knowledge of the Lord."

All too often, we treat God as our private possession who is there to take OUR side against THEIR side. We tell ourselves that WE won't be hurt or destroyed if God is on our side, but that God is here to be the heavy who can smite, blast, and blow up whomever we decide is "unrighteous" or "ungodly."  That's the thinking being used by "religious" voices in Russia trying to justify its invasion of Ukraine, and it's the same thinking that has been used by competing groups in Israel and Palestine to attempt to justify killing and bombing each other, and it's very tempting to do the same in our own setting.  We have a very, VERY hard time resisting the temptation of believing that God is on MY side, and therefore is opposed to YOUR side.  We have a very hard time considering that God might not be just MINE or seeking MY safety, but the well-being and life of all.  But that's precisely what Isaiah wants us to see.

From Isaiah's standpoint, the more clearly we understand who God is and what matters to God, the more we will commit to caring for one another, protecting one another from harm, and refusing to hurt one another.  And Isaiah's repeated reference here to "the peoples" and "the nations" makes it clear that he doesn't just have his own country or clan in mind.  We are not only called to refrain from harming our own little groups, but we are called to seek the well-being of all people.  As Isaiah sees it, the more truly we know God, the less we will be able to say, "Me and My Group First," and the more we will be committed to the good of all.  That's because Isaiah is convinced that God's own heart is committed to the good of all.  For him, then, it only makes sense to say that no one will hurt or destroy because the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord.

Today, how can we deepen our knowledge of God--and are we prepared to let that deeper understanding change our way of relating to other people?  Are we willing to let our study of the Bible change our perspective of our neighbors?  Are will willing to allow that the more we learn, pray, and contemplate the character of God, the more we open ourselves to a new love of others, including others from backgrounds and stories that are very different from our own?

Isaiah warns us that we cannot reduce our knowledge of God to merely a matter of facts to be memorized and filed away in our brains; knowing God will change us.  And in particular, knowing God more deeply will make of us people who love deeply, who seek to preserve the lives of others, who honor and uplift the worth of all peoples and all nations, and who do not hurt or destroy others.  Dare we let our relationship to God change us that way?

Lord God, help us to know you more deeply, and allow that knowledge to shape us more fully in your likeness.

Divinely Unnatural Relations--December 11, 2025

Divinely Unnatural Relations--December 11, 2025

“The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
     the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
     The cow and the bear shall graze,
their young shall lie down together;
     and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
     and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
They will not hurt or destroy
     on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord,
     as the waters cover the sea." [Isaiah 11:6-9]

We need to have a conversation about the word "natural."

More and more I notice that the marketing experts use the word "natural" as an automatically positive adjective. You know the refrains; they are a popular litany in the religious liturgy of consumerism: "You should try this new herbal supplement--it's ALL-NATURAL!" or "Don't buy that brand of soda--you should buy this other one that is made with NATURAL sugar!" or "I don't get the store-brand, because I want the one with the packaging that says it's the NATURAL choice!" or "I'm not going to get my flu shot, because immunizations are unnatural!" We get sloppy with our logic and accept the reasoning that anything you can call "natural" is automatically good, and anything that is "un-natural" is automatically bad.

Well, things aren't that simple. Sure, whole grains and sunshine are natural. But so it cancer. Malaria is natural, as is viral meningitis. So are lead, mercury, arsenic, and uranium. And on the flip side, you know what things are not found in nature? Vaccines, or water purification, or indoor plumbing. MRIs that catch tumors before they grow too big to treat are un-natural, too. And a good many life-saving drugs out there are things you won't find in nature, either.

For that matter, death is natural. Resurrection is un-natural.

Maybe things are more complicated that just saying "unnatural is always bad" and "natural is always good."

The natural world itself, for example, seems built on death... and therefore also on fear. In the animal kingdom, we say that there are two groups of creatures: the hunters and the hunted. You've got to eat your opponent or run from your opponent, but basically your choices in nature are limited to "fight or flight." We say things like "It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, and only the fittest survive--that's just the natural order of things." We seem to just accept that our lives should be lived forever under the cloud of fear of being eaten, and we accept just as easily the idea that you might just have to step on somebody else if they get in your way to climbing to the top of the hill. That's all just... you know, natural. The way it is, and the way it must always be.  We have to see every other person around us as a threat--as competition for scarce resources, for our way of life, for our livelihoods, and for our stuff--because it's "the law of the jungle" and it's "only natural."

Trouble is, God seems committed to making a whole new kind of creation--a resurrected creation--that looks, to our eyes, quite un-natural. Of course, to the person who's been sitting in a dark room all day, the brilliance of the daytime sun is going to seem too bright for their eyes. And for us who are accustomed to a world built on the fear of death, a new kind of creation will seem dangerously un-natural, too.

But look at the way the prophet Isaiah envisions the promised new creation that the Messiah will bring: it is staggeringly UN-NATURAL. All the creatures have exchanged their "natural" relationships as enemies for new and gloriously "un-natural" relations as friends now. Just look at how hilariously un-natural the whole scene is: wolves and lambs cozying up next to one another, and leopards and baby goats lounging next to the cows and bears, and nobody is eating each other!

Kind of makes you think that maybe what we are quick to label "un-natural" might not be "unacceptable" after all, but in fact might just be gloriously good!

The old logic of death, and the old engine of fear that kept the old logic churning, is gone. No longer is the assumption that it's a kill-or-be-killed world, and there is no longer the either/or choice of fight or flight. Instead, there is a new way of relating, a new way of being in relationship with one another--and it comes from learning the peaceable ways of God, according to Isaiah. At the coming of God's anointed one--the time when the long-awaited Messiah appears--creation itself will be turned inside out, resurrected, and pulled into a new form. Like the resurrected Jesus is able to pass through walls and go without being recognized, and yet is still clearly the same Jesus who was nailed to the cross, the new creation will be the same as this one--and yet resurrected. Transformed. Renewed. And yet, we aren't scared of the risen Jesus. We don't kick him out because his risen way of being human is "un-natural" or "abominable". No, his resurrection itself is gloriously unnatural!

My point in all of this is that the future toward which God is bringing all of creation sometimes seems scary to us because it runs contrary to what we are used to--what we call "natural," and yet it is a good and beautiful future. The idea of a peaceable kingdom can seem frightening to us if we are used to "peace" through the threat of death, "peace" at the point of a sword, or "peace" won through intimidation and fear. What God calls us into is a completely different way of relating to one another--a way grounded in the courage to be vulnerable and to let down our guard, rather than in baring our teeth at one another and needing to dominate others for fear that they'll dominate us.

The world around us seems run on the tired old logic that says, "You gotta get THEM before they get YOU!" and says it is only natural to see everyone else around you as a threat--either a predator out to get you, or other prey that can leave you to be eaten by a lion if they outrun you. But the God who raises the dead opens up a new possibility--a new way of living with one another, even if it seems to run counter to what everybody else swears is "natural."

Our hope as followers of Jesus is not that the coming Messiah will give us special weapons to give us an advantage against our opponents in a dog-eat-dog world. Rather, our hope is that the One we are waiting for is the one with the nail-scarred hands to prove that there is a new kind of creation in store for us, one that might not look "natural" at all, but is actually, with God's blessing and by God's design, gloriously "un-natural." It is the peaceable kingdom where old animosities are set aside, where old systems are done with and put away, and where God makes it possible for wolves and lambs, lions and cows, all to share a table.

Our Advent hope is for just such a promised future as that--a future of gloriously, blessedly, divinely unnatural relations.

Lord God, make us new in your surprising love, and bring about your new order of things where old enemies can reconcile in peace.