Sunday, December 21, 2014

Waiting With Love (Advent 4, Isaiah 9:2-7)


Waiting With Love from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.


Luke 1:26-38
26In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house and lineage of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” 29But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. 30The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. 33he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” 34Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” 35The angle said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37For nothing will be impossible with God.” 38Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God

Isaiah 9:2-7
2The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness - on them light has shined.
3you have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder.
4For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor you have broken as on the day of Midian.
5For all the boots of the trampling warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
6For a child has been born to us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
7His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God.

Every Wednesday, as many of y'all know, a handful of Presbyterian Pastors gather at Panera Bread over on Franklin. That group allows us to share our burdens with our colleagues, and we bring both joys and struggles to the table as we break our fasts together. We gather in the name of Christ, and in love for one another, so that we can build up Christ's body together. One of that group, a man named Len Bergman, observed this past week that “In a secularized Christmas there are too many warm-fuzzies.”

Between the made-for-TV Christmas movies and the music that's been playing in stories since before Halloween, one would think that the whole world is wrapped up in fluffy snow and silver bells, with good cheer and fraternal love all around. Every stories ends on a happy note, and the traditions continue with everyone having learned something! It's comforting, it's warm, it's fuzzy, and it's hollow. Holiday sentimentality merely masks the darkness, colors over it with pleasantness. “The child whose birth we attend [at Christmas] was born into a world painted not in pastels but in dust and blood.

For we are a people who walked in darkness. Especially this time of year, many of our brothers and sisters in Christ struggle with grief and depression. Part of it is the short days, literally leaving us in a dark place sooner, and for longer. But much of it is also the grief of Christmas without loved ones. Isaiah speaks of a people who "lived in a land of deep darkness,..." a darkness of death, where we peer in and the void reflects back at us, and it frightens us.

The dwindling days are dwarfed by lengthening nights of winter, and the world in which we dwell is increasingly dark in more ways than one. The tendrils of violence that we once were able to keep at arms length in another part of the world have tended to find their way back to us. We are a people who walked in darkness, and it is tempting to ignore how real that darkness is so that we can pretend everything is okay. We're worried we don't have the resilience to grieve, so we cover up the grief of others, and mask them with sentimentality. That looks a lot like love, but it feels a lot like fear.

Perhaps we join ancient Israel in fear of political disaster. In this part of Isaiah, invading armies were threatening to crush the Northern Kingdom, and Judah, to the south, was next. The yoke of their burden was heavy, the bar across their shoulders kept them from imagining a future beyond the impending crisis. Our worries are a little different, particular to our time, but we can find ourselves in the same story of a never-ending parade of crises.

The darkness is not nothing, and we struggle with it daily. Ignoring it just sands all the edges off of our experience, leaving something smooth and polished, but also without anything to hold on to when we find our selves among those who lived in a land of deep darkness.

One of the lunch bunch pointed out that all the verbs in this passage are past-tense. As an English-major-type-person, I was really excited to talk about grammar! But then, I'm a nerd.

If this passage is in the past tense, what does that mean for the people to whom Isaiah preached, hundreds of years before the birth of Christ? Who is the child who has been born to them, the son given to them? They were promised "...there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore.” That didn’t happen for the Israelites of the Northern Kingdom, and it didn’t happen in the way the people who walked in darkness expected. How can we believe this passage, then, if the darkness is still part of our experience?

We face it with a great deal more than a naughty and nice list. We approach the darkness with more than just holiday sentiment. Our hope is in the promise of God, given in the poetry and artistry of the prophet Isaiah. By using the past tense, Isaiah is making a theological claim that even though these things have not happened yet, God has decided it, and declared that it will be. Therefore it is as good as done. With the assurance of God’s promise, we can hope in the great light seen by the people who have walked in darkness. “The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.”

Jolly laughter and sentimental scenery can distract us, but they cannot give us the truth we need to live in hope and love. Can't beat the possibility afforded to us by hope. Except by the prophetic energizing we have in the Love of God in Christ Jesus. Knowing, truly knowing, that we are loved can motivate us to do things that our own internalized darkness would straight up prohibit us from doing. We can face the prophetic promise with energy, resilience and imagination because we know that we are waiting with love: both God’s love and our love within this community. God’s love intervenes in the world and gives us the love for one another that sustains us as we wait, as we walk, in darkness.

Even though the sentence begins with darkness, deep darkness, burdens, a bar, a rod, the boots of trampling warriors and the garments rolled in blood, look where it ends:
"The people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness - on them light has shined."

The beauteous heavenly light breaks forth and ushers in the morning. God is not content to abandon us to darkness, God's love intervenes in the world, so that where once their was only darkness and despair, God's glory can once again shine.

“The incarnation does not simply affirm Jesus’s body; it helps us see that our bodies and actions matter.” They don't just matter to us, they matter to God. Our bodies and actions are claimed by God every bit as much as our souls. God could simply take us out of the world, start anew on a creation built from scratch. Instead, God's love intervenes in this world, in this life, assuming all facets of what it means to be truly human, like us in every respect except sin.

The incarnation is a miracle of God’s loving presence with us, among us, and as one of us. It’s not a warm fuzzy feeling, it’s a world changing event, shining a light into the darkness and reminding the people that beyond the darkness is God, who will not let us go. God’s love intervenes in the world, and reaches out to be with us no matter where we are, in darkness, under the rod of the oppressor,  beneath the boots of trampling warriors and wrapped in garments rolled in blood, God loves us still and redeems us by becoming human, rescuing us and claiming us for all time.

The sign we have of this is Isaiah’s promise in the prophetic past: “For a child has been born to us, a son is given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of peace.” The name is both a promise and a testimony to the hope we all have in God, and in the promise of God-with-us.

Therefore we are waiting with love, praying in a still dark world, “Come Lord Jesus.” We are waiting still for the fulfillment of the promise. We know that God’s love intervenes in the world. We are able, therefore, to wait with love because God’s light sines in the darkness. Though we walked in darkness, we have seen a great light. The light of the world is the Word made Flesh, and is laid in a manger at Christmas time.



Sunday, December 14, 2014

Waiting in Joy (Advent 3, Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11)


Waiting in Joy from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.


Psalm 126
1A song of Ascents
When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
2Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy;
Then it was said among the nations, “The LORD has done great things for them.”
3The LORD has done great things for us, and we rejoiced.

4Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like the watercourses in the Negeb.
5May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.
6Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing,
shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11
1The spirit of the LORD GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; 2to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; 3to provide for those who mourn in Zion- to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, to display his glory. 4They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.

8For 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. 9Their 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.

10I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. 11For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the LORD GOD will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God.

An old friend is coming over for dinner. Someone you haven't seen in a while, someone who means a great deal to you. Perhaps not a friend, but a favorite cousin, or a new grandchild.

The excitement builds, and you find yourself making final preparations on the afternoon they are to arrive. The guest room is all made up, and has been since Tuesday, but you go and check one more time, and smooth out the last wrinkles so that their place will be immaculate. You start straightening things up, even though the house has been cleaned top-to-bottom already,

Fresh towels in the bathroom? Check, the finest ones, they only get pulled out on special occasions like this one. Coffee made? Not quite, we'll make it fresh when they arrive. But it's perfectly measured already, and you've only got to press a button when they ask.

You've even pulled out the perfect album on the stereo, one that your guest will immediately recognize, yet won't intrude on the good conversation once they do arrive. The minutes tick past as you await their arrival, and so you run down the list for the four-hundred-and-first time: bed made, house clean, magazines stacked, yet slightly askew, fresh towels, coffee prepped, but not yet made... all that's left to do is wait.

You're almost dancing back and forth as the guest of honor pulls into the driveway. That feeling when the car stops and you try and play it cool, but really want to run out to meet them and tell them how grateful you are to have them here? That's joy.

And that's where we're headed.

All the preparations of Advent are leading us to the moment when our souls cry out with a joyful shout that the God of our heart is great! When we can sing God's praises at the miracle of the incarnation, joining the song of the shepherds, keeping watch over their flocks by night.

We are waiting in joy for the coming of the LORD. 

In an impatience born of excitement, we look to Isaiah."The spirit of the LORD GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn;”

God is about to change the world, and the people who are living and suffering in the meantime deserve to know that their comforter, their redeemer is on the way. So the Prophet Isaiah is sent out with the specific mission of proclaiming the year of the LORD’s favor. ”The identity of this servant is inextricably tied up with commitment to God's will... announcing that after years of mourning the time has arrived in which God will restore the conditions of justice and peace which characterize God's reign.”

We are waiting in Joy for the coming of the LORD.

We wait because justice and peace are too foreign to us. We cannot establish them on our own behalf. In the face of our sin-skewed perspective, we hold on to what little we can grasp, and therefore we are left with a world of oppressed, brokenhearted, captives, prisoners, and mourning.

Isaiah’s words are familiar to us, and tied in Christian memory to Jesus, who reads them aloud to his home congregation in the Gospel of Luke. Christ read these words to a people under the rule of the Roman empire. Isaiah spoke them to Israel in exile. We read them now in a different light, because we must admit that we are not the poor, or the oppressed. We hear Isaiah’s promise with a bit more trepidation, as we grasp at what we’ve already god, www wonder what the change will cost us.

Yet, "We know that even among the economically favored, we have broken hearts, we have dislocation, we need newness, even the kind that undoes and remakes society and us. Even if it scares us to death, we need God's justice-loving joy. So it is worth the risk, worth dying for even.” So we wait in joy for the coming of the LORD, when we will no longer worry about self-righteousness or celebrating our own accomplishments.

Instead, we will serve God, and Christ Jesus with joy as the righteousness of the Kingdom is established over all the earth. We “will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, to display his glory.” We will sing and shout the joy we have been given. ”The end of 'righteousness' is, that glory be given to God; and therefore he exhorts us to gratitude; for it is exceedingly [rude] to be [silent] after having received God's benefits. So we start here, in worship, but the joy we are given here is so compelling that it flings us back out into the world: a parade of grace declaring, “I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation.” God is here among us, and has given us hope, peace, and joy, and at Christmas it is all wrapped up in the fragile body of a child.


We are waiting in Joy, for the LORD has come.

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Waiting For Peace (Advent 2, Isaiah 40:1-11)


Waiting For Peace from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.


Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
1LORD, you were favorable to your land; you restored the fortunes of Jacob.
2You forgave the iniquity of your people; you pardoned all their sin. Selah

8Let me hear what God the LORD will speak, for he will speak peace to his people, to his faithful, to those who turn to him in their hearts.
9Surely his salvation is at hand for those who fear him, that his glory may dwell in our land.
10Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; righteousness and peace will kiss each other.
11Faithfulness will spring up from the ground, and righteousness  will look down from the sky.
12The LORD will give what is good, and our land will yield its increase.
13Righteousness will go before him, and will make a path for his steps.

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God

Isaiah 40:1-11
1Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. 2Speak 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.

3A voice cries out:”In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. 4Every 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. 5Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”

6A voice says, “Cry out!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All people are like grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. 7The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it; surely the people are grass. 8The grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. 9Get 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!” 10See, the LORD GOD comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. 11He 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.

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God.

Grampa, my Mom’s Dad, was a musician. He had beautiful high tenor voice, and he used it to the glory of God every chance he got. Perhaps that’s why I cannot read this passage without hearing Handle’s Messiah ringing in my ears. “Comfort Ye, Comfort ye my people…” There’s a comfort in these words that, for me, is literally familiar. It’s the warmth of a crowded, messy house full of laughter and music and noise and wrapping paper that is either rent and scattered or carefully folded and saved for next year. It’s the comfort of tradition and gathered family, the assurance of that one tradition that makes Christmas feel like Christmas. It’s the release of chronic anxiety that we didn’t even know was holding us down until we felt it melt away into the overstuffed furniture of the family living room.

We need Isaiah’s words of peace, “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.” Even in Advent, there are plenty of reasons for worry. We have the promise of God-with-us; we are expectant. Our deliverer is on the way, but the peace and justice that accompanies our Lord is yet unborn. “Comfort, O comfort my people…”

But we do not all need comfort from the same thing. I don’t need comfort from invading armies that could at any moment burst into my home and drag my family off to who-knows where. The Judah to whom Israel preached lived in exile in Babylon, and were oppressed by their captors. Many people in the Middle East still have to fear an invading army kicking in their door, where the so-called Islamic State inflicts violence without reason. Elsewhere in the Middle East, Palestinian Christians have to get permission from another country to travel from one town to another, even if they just want to visit the town where Christ was born. But that is not the comfort I need.

I need comfort from the nagging question, “Am I walking into a trap?” Inexperienced as I am, I sometimes expect a scolding when I walk into a meeting, just because I’ve gotten a few of them over my years of ministry. Sometimes I have deserved it, and I’m sure I will deserve it again. Those are not as hard, because I can kind of see them coming. Other times, though, I’ve walked in and been blindsided by what felt to me like undeserved and un-constructive criticism. I need comfort when I’m vulnerable, because I’ve been hurt by folks who matter to me. But that’s not the comfort everybody needs.

“Comfort, O comfort my people…”

I don’t need comfort from the specter of cancer, or other terrifying diagnoses. Others whom I love, though, face that battle daily, wondering if this treatment or that one will help them, or if fighting will only lengthen their suffering. Their need for comfort is very real, but it is not the same as mine.

I need comfort from questions of trust and security. This is the first chapter in Leah’s and my marriage where we are both employed and able to live together. But my anxiety revolves around are we stable enough that we can plan for the future, is her career secure? Is mine? But that’s not the same fear as others have.

“Comfort, O comfort my people…”

I don’t need comfort from “will my parents still love me if I bring home bad grades?” For many students, the end of the fall semester is looming, and the consistent emphasis on achievement can fill youth and young adults with fear that failing, or even just not achieving quite high enough, will be grounds for rejection, either from college or, worse, from their families. I remember when I needed that comfort, and many folks still live with it, but that’s not my need at this point.

I need comfort when I struggle to be faithful to God, and to what God has called me to do. A month or so ago, I opened myself up for the youth to ask me anything, and they asked if I ever had doubts or struggle with my faith. I do, and often. I know God loves me, but I just wished I could respond to God’s love a little better. But not everybody needs to be comforted in this way.

“Comfort, O comfort my people…”

I don’t need comfort from doubting my expertise, or am I qualified enough to function. There are lots of people in this world who have been told they are worthless so often that they believe it. They’ve been told that they can’t do something, and so they don’t even try. Or on the other hand, they’ve been trusted so quickly that they can’t move for fear of breaking something, everyone will notice, and then they’ll lose it all. That’s a huge fear in our communities, and can tear a person apart. But that is not the comfort I need.

I need comfort when I wonder if I can trust my congregation with myself. I sometimes tend to hide behind my knowledge, to use an intellectual connection rather than risk an emotional one. I know I’m absolutely called to share those powerful connections with y’all, to have the faith to be vulnerable and connected, but boy is it intimidating. I need the comfort to risk myself, not everyone needs that brand of comfort though.

“Comfort, O comfort my people…”

The list could go on and on, some anxieties belong to us, some do not.  Even as we list our personal worries and fears, the prophetic voice turns us from fear to faith. These words are not about the particularity of anxieties, they’re about the universality of God’s presence. No amount of kind words can resolve these fears and anxieties. Only the assurance in God’s presence can provide the comfort we need. God is free, and freely loves us and wants to be with us. “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.”

In the midst of exile, surrounded by our chronic anxiety and exhausting fears, Isaiah promises us that God is returning to the people, and is returning us to justice and peace. Grace is at hand, and we need not fear, because God is with us. “God’s judgment always serves the more encompassing purpose of God’s forgiveness and redemption of the sinful community.” At Advent, we wait for God, straining against our sinful nature so that we can glimpse the promise: God’s presence brings justice and peace. 

The verbs “Comfort” are plural, The KJV’s translation, “Comfort ye,” captures the communal weight of the comforting command. “Ye’ is 16th century English for “Y’all.” The command is not just to the particular prophet. All of God’s people are charged with sharing the story of God’s continuous love, even in the midst of exile. So it’s no surprise that Isaiah continues, but in different voices:

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.”

One voice cries out to prepare a path in the wilderness, because God’s presence is an oncoming freight train, and we’ve got to lay the track so that the people know God is coming. Peace is on its way, and the change is not going to stop at our hearts or minds, the entire landscape will be different in the wake of God’s redeeming and righteous love. “Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.” The difference God’s presence makes is obvious to everyone, all people, regardless of what they need comfort from, will come together to see, and be comforted by, the glory of the Lord.

Another voice speaks: “A voice says, ‘Cry out!’ And I said, ‘What shall I cry?’ All people are like 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 and the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” Not only is God on the way, as the first voice proclaims, but God is eternal and dependable.

While we may hear the comparison of humanity to grass as judgment and dismissive of our struggle, to those in exile, this is a word of comfort. Our oppression is human, our redemption is divine. The human hands that hold us down are like grass, and wither. God’s hand, mightily reaching out to gather us in, shall stand forever. “Though everything else fails, God’s word endures forever, and that God comes to lead them home.” The oppressed have comfort, have hope, in the promise that the current state of affairs will pass away like it were nothing. We hear the same comfort in the knowledge that so many of our anxieties are of our own invention, and in the presence of God, we are filled with the peace of God’s justice and love. While we are waiting for peace, the prophetic words give us hope in God’s presence among us.

So we are called, from the midst of our exile, to proclaim with as many voices as we can muster that the LORD is our redeemer. “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.”

One of the folks at lunch bunch pointed out that there’s a general ease starting to take over in the consciousness of this congregation. People are more willing to accept hope, she said. While I’d love to take credit for that, I think we all recognize that the peace, the capacity to trust the hope we’ve always had, the Comfort, O Comfort my people, points to God’s presence among us. As Isaiah puts it in verse ten, “See, the LORD GOD comes with might!”

God’s might “…is not the strength of a bloody avenger, a violent brute, or a demanding judge. No, this God’s strength appears in the barely thinkable power of gentleness, in tender and caring presence, in intimacy such as a shepherd expresses when gathering the wounded, scattered flock.”


So we are gathered in, as a flock. We have different kinds of need for comfort, but the comfort is with all of us. We are waiting for peace, which accompanies God’s righteous and mighty love. That love is coming, as we take comfort in God’s presence already working among us.