Reversal of Fortunes

"The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news ..." What a great opening line for a sermon. I wish that I had though of it! This is, after all, the reason why we preachers even dare to open our mouths. We have been anointed, well ... ordained ... to bring good news. And not just any old good news, but really good news because it is good news for those who have heard nothing but bad news. This is good news for those who are pressed down by others who are more powerful ... by forces that are just too strong for them to get out from under. This news binds up the bleeding hearts of the broken hearted. It announces liberty to all held captive by debt, by guilt, by the past. This is even good news for the prisoner, the lowest and least on the scale of human worth ... the one who has been locked up and fears that the key has been long since thrown away. Talk about a reversal of fortunes. This is really quite extraordinary good news ... for it is nothing less than the announcement of a new year unlike any other new year: the year of God's favour a year when God gets things right the year of Jubilee ... so long promised and now at hand. Like I said ... what a great opening line for a sermon. Especially in a culture like ours which craves good news expects good news, demands good news. Just ask any politician ... they'll tell you. If you really want to get elected, if you want the people to vote for you ... you must promise good news: "We'll kill the GST" "Jobs, jobs, jobs" "Read my lips - no more taxes". Optimism is the order of the day ... officially at least. That is why we expect our politicans to keep up the pretense that they can deliver on their good news promises and budgets. And that is why seems only natural that our preachers preach good news. You would not expect any less from a preacher just ten days shy of Christmas than you would of a politician a week away from election day. But ... and it is a a rather large 'but' ... just beneath the official optimism of our culture, not very well hidden behind our wavering faith in 'progress' lies a different truth, a darker truth. A truth called 'despair' ... which means, quite literally, to be 'without hope'. Without hope in the face of the storm on the horizon. This is the shadow side of our 'officially optimistic' culture. We are like the people in the movie "Twister" ... watching the destructive storm as it touches down nearby tossing everything in its wake upside down all the while running around madly hoping against hope that it doesn't next touch down on us ... which it one day surely will. The signs of despair are all around in a society hunkering down from the storm it fears is inevitable. Less is the word on the tip of every tongue.. There is less money to go around the schools and the hospitals and the streets; less security from violence in spite of the latest in alarms and locks; less work to be found no matter your education or experience; less innocence for the young even with a v-chip installed on the tube; there is simply less. So the honest politician tells it like it is. Says what everyone knows ... that there is less ... and takes the consequences. But here comes Isaiah ... foolish old Isaiah insisting that less is not the Word from God. Here is Isaiah with a brazen Word that he is sure is God's own. It is the word 'more'. 'More', he says, 'there is more for those who mourn for those who grieve for those who weep over their loss than black veils and tear-stained pillows and sleepless nights.' Yes, Isaiah promises more, not less. Or, to be more accurate, Isaiah announces that God promises more, much more, to those who sow in tears. 'Yes', sings Isaiah, 'these broken, ashen, dispirited ones are to be called 'The Oaks of Righteousness' ... the Lord's own private planting ... for they shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.' We aren't used to thinking this way. We expect that it is the strong and the powerful who do the building and restoring and repairing of that which has been broken down. But Isaiah sees something else ... he sees the renewal of the land emerging from the healing of the brokenhearted and the freeing of the captive. Well, that kind of news is all well and good for Isaiah to announce long ago and far away to a rag tag bunch of exiles wandering amidst the broken ruins of Jerusalem. But what about me ... and you. Promising more when we have learned in the school of hard knocks to expect less can seem cruel. Now, let's be clear about one thing: in spite of all appearances to the contrary this upwardly mobile, well-dressed, intelligent, well-placed congregation is made up of more than a few who number themselves among the afflicted and the brokenhearted ... who long for liberation from despair ... but who have long since learned to live with less. When faced with a congregation like this one caught in the act of reading Isaiah I feel a little like the Appalachian coal miner I read about this week: out of work for months, he caught his children on the back porch thumbing through a Sears catalogue, wishing. At this he flew into a rage, switched their legs, tore the catalog to bits, and sat down in his yard and wept. He loved them so much, he couldn't bear to see them wish for more. To tell you the truth I am sorely tempted to parrot words from the school of hard knocks: "Less ... expect less". It certainly seems a more prudent path a safer path a more realistic path. Is it right to raise hopes only to have them dashed? I begin to wonder if Isaiah ever wished that he had not been anointed to announce such 'good news' ... for on Saturday night I wonder again how I will dare to stand here on Sunday morning and say that it is true ... that there is more ... and that it is near at hand. But just then ... just when I am about to lose my nerve, to do the safe thing to say the conservative word ... God steps in. God has enough of sending an emissary, an anointed ... or ordained ... one to speak on God's behalf. Did you notice ... right there in the middle of Isaiah's sermon ... right here in the midst of this sermon ... God can't hold back any longer: "For I the Lord love justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing; I will faithfully give them their recompense, and I will make an everlasting covenant with them. Their descendants shall be known among the nations, and their offspring among the peoples; all who see them shall acknowledge that they are a people whom the Lord has blessed. That's how it is, isn't it?! Just when we begin to get accustomed to less ... right when we have finally figured out that it is safer to live in despair than to be full of hope ... God intervenes, breaks in intrudes on the world that we have oh-so-carefully sorted out and says simply: "I love justice". And that is all that we have to go on for now. Like the slaves in Egypt listening to Moses' pitch ... like Mary at home in Nazareth wondering at the angel's claims ... we hear that God has more in store for us than we had ever dared to dream. It is a disconcerting voice in a world whose daily chorus we know all too well: 'adjust ... adapt ... get used to it, its the way things are'. It is a disconcerting voice because if we dare to believe it ... to trust the One who speaks ... we dare to wish for ourselves more, more for our world, more for others. No longer do we hear of the 'oppressed of the earth' and imagine some nameless, hopeless millions but instead see God's own planting ... Oaks of Righteousness ... builders of a new world. No more do we pity the brokenhearted, doomed to their brokenness ... instead we cannot wait to bring news of God's healing touch so near at hand. No more can we live in the midst of captivity without proclaiming and expecting liberty ... liberty from addiction and from poverty and from wealth. Its a disconcerting voice because if we pay heed to it we will find that we ourselves have become disconcerting to others. Like an acquaintance who recently described a heated discussion with a colleague at work over the growth of casino gambling in the Province. Finally he said: "Why don't you just face facts, it's here to stay, there's nothing you can do about it, the government needs the cash. You might as well give up now" To which she found herself blurting out to her own great surprise: "I can't give up now. I'm a Christian. I'm not allowed to give up hope". In a world of thinly disguised pessimism where most hope for the best and expect the worst those who actually hope in God stand out. There is just no getting around it. Isaiah says that being on the other end of the promises of God is like being a bride or a groom. Not too hard to spot in a crowd right?! Usually its the clothes that identify the happy couple. But if it's not the wedding dress or the boutonniere that give us away then surely it will be the undeniable joy and irrepressible hope that cannot be disguised in our daily living that does it. "Newlyweds" people will say, "can spot them a mile away". And, like newlyweds, we look forward ... forward to tomorrow, living expectantly into the fulfilment of promises made with God and vows kept by God. Thank God.