Isaiah 35:5-8, Healing Service
Amid rumors
of war and desolation, the prophet Isaiah this morning unleashes an incredible
vision upon us. Having just spoken harsh
words that warn of impending ecological destruction
Devastation
and despair…
Abruptly stopping us in our tracks...
Scattering remnants of our metaphorical gear shafts across
the road.
And all of
this done by a poem!
Death and
destruction…
who would imagine that
a poem could be so powerful? That a poem could throw a monkey wrench into the endlessly spinning wheels of darkness and death?
That a poem could quench the thirst of those who are
withering on dry, parched, dead land?
And yet it
is, precisely THAT: A poem that speaks
of healing in the midst of sickness…
pools in the midst of burning sands
streams in the midst of
desert.
The poem
comes too early. Someone jumped the gun
in putting it here. Who moved it? And why did they move it? When did they move it? Inquiring theological minds want to know.
Barbara
Lundblad, an ELCA pastor who recently retired from teaching at Union Seminary in New York once said,
“The Spirit hovered over the text and
over the scribes: ‘Put it here’,
breathed the Spirit, ‘before anyone is ready.
Interrupt the narrative of despair’. So here it is: a word that couldn’t wait until it might make
more sense.”
I love her
words: “put it here breathed the
spirit…interrupt the narrative of despair”.
Interrupt
the narrative of despair.Now there is a mission statement for the church!
Characteristically
against the data: We hear and see the
data every night on the news and every morning on the front page of the
D&C.
Another
shooting in Rochester…
Geo-political
chaos in the Middle East drawing us closer to another war…
Growing fear and panic
as Ebola claims thousands of lives…
Elected leaders treasuring political power over authoritative
governance leading to gridlock and cynicism…
Add to that the data of our own lives:
Awaiting test results from the
doctor…
Mourning the death of someone
beloved to us…Wondering if we’ll make it through the next round of layoffs…
Pining for the days before our kids grew up and moved away
Longing for those pre-retirement days when we felt a greater sense of purpose to our lives.
We know the data all too well and we long for a Word out of place.
Well I am
here to tell you today, that here in this place and in this moment of time,
there is a word out of place.
A
Word that goes against the data…
A Word that
dares to interrupt our narratives of despair…
A Word that speaks to all of us who have entered the
wilderness of exile,
Who dwell in the land of darkness…
Who wait and wait and wait for God to come and breathe life
into us…
Whose hearts are scarred, torn, and
withered…
Who with feeble hands, weak knees, parched throats, and
aching hearts wonder when our exile will end.
Our narratives of despair are interrupted.
You, who
cannot see past the fears of a frightening diagnosis or an impending medical
procedure…
“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
You, who have
been beaten down not only by sticks and stones but by words of belittlement,
judgment, and derision blasting in your ears telling you that you are “junk”…
and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
You, who are
paralyzed with fear because you can’t imagine how you’ll pay all the bills this
month, especially when you’re not even sure you’ll have a job next month…
the lame shall leap like a deer,
You, who
cannot bring yourself to speak words needed to heal the pain and anguish of a
broken relationship…
the tongue of the
speechless shall sing for joy.
You, whose
parched hearts still break over the death of a spouse, a partner, a parent or a
child and who feel like you are being
swallowed up in grief
Waters shall break
forth in the wilderness, streams in the desert, the burning sand shall become a
pool, the thirsty ground springs of water
You, who
wander through the dark valley of depression not knowing where the pathway lies
or that there even is a pathway…
a highway shall be there; it shall be called The Holy Way
Into the
face of despair – not denying its presence – right into the teeth of despair,
Isaiah shouts a word of hope.
Not only
does God break the darkness by remembering you in this place of exile, but God
has the power to do something about it.
For you see,
God has a highway crew, and a road has been built.
A road built by God’s
prophets and sealed by the Cross of his son…
A road where
we hear the most incredible words of healing
“This
is my body given for you…
This is my blood shed for you”
A road that leads us exiles home.
Not to some nostalgic place from our past, but home to God’s
heart
where, as Eugene Peterson describes it, “all sorrows and
sighs scurry into the night”.
You, whose
feet are tired and worn-out from walking on burning sands of despair and
brokenness…
You, who know all too well the pain
of being dis-connected in exile…
Take
heart!
For the One
who stops us abruptly in our tracks is here…
The One who interrupts our narrative
of despair is here…
The One who joined us in our exile by taking our wounds with
him onto a Cross is here..
Right here! In our
midst.
Whispering into unstopped ears…
“I love you with all
my heart.
Welcome home."
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