Until Everyone's Free--December 13, 2022

Until Everyone's Free--December 13, 2022

"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 35:9-10]

When people who have been held captive are set free and get to go home, it's good news.  Full stop.

Sometimes I forget how often the Scriptures talk like that.  From the central story of Israel's past when a nation of enslaved people are finally set free from their bondage in Pharaoh's Egypt, to the voices of the prophets offering hope that exiles could come home from Babylon like here in today's verses from Isaiah, to Jesus himself taking up the mission of "letting the oppressed go free" [see Luke 4 with Jesus' sermon in Nazareth], the Bible keeps coming back to the good news of captives being set free to go home.

But for each of those moments of release, there is an awful lot of waiting that leads up to the announcement of homecoming.  For the enslaved Hebrews in Egypt, it was four centuries of living in slavery.  For the generation that was taken into exile in Babylon, it was seventy years before their children or grandchildren were finally able to make their way back to their old family farms and houses.  Over and over again, the Bible invites us to rejoice when captives are set free--but that also comes with the call to watch and wait and work for that freedom and homecoming.  They also call us not to give up hope.

When Isaiah offered these words about exiled people coming home--"the ransomed of the LORD returning to Zion with singing"--it was to help people who were waiting not to give up hope.  It was for people living in the in-between time, for people waiting for release, so that they wouldn't give up on the promise that one day they would be free and be home.  It was a reminder saying, "What you are going through now will not last forever; and you will be free."  He paints this picture like it's a scene out of a musical or a choreographed parade, where people burst into song as they go along their way, the joyful refrain echoing through the wilderness as they go.  Isaiah wants his listeners--who have likely known exile for most of their lives--not to give up and settle for what Babylon offered.  He wants them to keep reminding each other, "We will make it home.  We will make it home.  We will make it home."  He needs them to strive against despair on the one hand, and also not to fall for the false promises Babylon makes. So he keeps holding out this vision of a long procession coming home--in the hope that it will sustain them, so they won't give up or give in to the lure of the Empire's way of doing things.

Maybe you've been there too--not Babylon per se, but a time when it felt awfully tough to keep going.  There are times you have to keep telling yourself, or the people around you, "You will get through this."  Maybe you need someone else to remind you so that you'll believe it.  Maybe that's what we can take from these words from Isaiah, for our own times when we feel bound up and captive--to a job that feels like a dead-end, or to the rat-race routines of our lives that don't ever seem to let up, or the weariness of caring for someone through a sickness or a time of crisis.  When you're the one who is feeling weary and ready to give up, we need people to be Isaiahs for us--the ones who will speak hope back into our lives.  When someone else is struggling, you just might be the one to remind them, "You will get through this--I will go with you."  We can say those things to one another and mean them truthfully, because we are promised that the living God will bring us through.

When we are reminded that we're not alone, and that we will get through this [whatever "this" is at the moment], we find the strength for the next action, the next step, the next day. When we are the weary ones, the words come to give us strength.  When someone else is the weary one and you and I are at full strength, we are called to use our energy and resources to help the ones on the verge of giving up.  Like Fannie Lou Hamer put it, "Nobody is free until everybody is free." So voices like Isaiah's give us the courage and strength to keep going, so that we in turn can spend our lives helping to strengthen and encourage the ones around us still struggling.  But the hope is always that ultimately everybody can be freed... and for everyone to come home.

If Isaiah's words find you today running on fumes, let them speak hope into your life.  If his words find you today already firing on all cylinders, let the prophet's voice lead you to contribute some of your forward motion to help the next person in the procession. Maybe we can see all of our lives lived out as part of the unfolding homecoming parade of God's people--and to know we and all people are invited to walk in it.

Lord God, give us the strength to keep hoping, and the hope to keep walking where you lead us, until everybody is free.