The Gospel Glows in the Dark
Isaiah 60:1-6
Matthew 2:1-12
January 1, 2006
I remember that afternoon very clearly. I had just begun my research for my doctoral project on clergy burnout and was interviewing a pastor from another denomination about the difficulties he was facing in his current church.
He sat slumped in the chair in front of my desk with his eyes cast downward for most of the hour we spent together. His voice was flat and without emotion. On occasion, I would notice a tear in the corner of his eye.
Twenty-two years before, he had entered the ministry full of hope and expectation. He loved the Lord, loved the church, loved people, and genuinely felt called to the pastorate. He’d invested in college and then seminary, both financially and emotionally. He had dreams of doing great things for God.
This particular church has called him as their pastor a few years before. Things had started out well, but over time, relationships began to exhibit the strain brought on by different expectations and worldviews. He was going one way and the church was going another.
When that happens, people will often begin to find fault for reasons that have nothing to do with the original conflict. They started to complain about the way he handled meetings, the content of his sermons, the behavior of his wife, his ability to manage the church budget, and a whole host of other stuff. They finally fired him – this was a congregational-type denomination in which churches hire and dismiss their pastors without input or interference by the larger judicatory.
As I listened to his story, I realized that the church probably had some legitimate concerns. But it was also clear that the pastor was doing his best to try to lead the church toward a new vision and new life. It was unfortunate that the church was unwilling or unable to respectfully and honestly work through their conflict. Instead, they found it easier to just change pastors. Neither the church nor the pastor was helped in that process.
He told me that the reality of ministry and the vision of ministry proved to be two completely different things. His expectations were dashed on the rocks of human behavior which is not always beneficial or even Christian in practice.
I thought of that story this week when I was considering the lesson from Isaiah. The majority of mainline scholars believe that Isaiah is really three different prophecies written by three different individuals at three different times in history. Some conservative scholars disagree with that, and that is part of what makes biblical interpretation fun. But, this is what I was taught in seminary and have found no justifiable reason to change my mind in the years hence.
Chapters 1-39, I believe, were written by the prophet himself in the seventh century BC. This is pre-exile, before the Babylonian armies swept through the region; before many of the people were taken away to Babylon in the chains of captivity.
Second Isaiah, or chapters 40 – 55 were written by another prophet writing during the exile under Isaiah’s name. These chapters begin with that wonderful sign of redemption and recovery.
Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins. (Isaiah 40:1-2).
Eugene Peterson paraphrases those verses like this:
Comfort, oh comfort my people, says your God. Speak softly and tenderly to Jerusalem, but also make it very clear that she has served her sentence, that her sin is taken care of – forgiven! She’s been punished enough and more than enough, and now it’s over and done with.
In this second section of Isaiah come the promises of a restored land and people. They are to be brought back to their land, their capital, and the center of their worship. Their national nightmare was about to be ended.
The third section of Isaiah then – Chapters 56-66 - was written after the exile, when they had indeed returned to their homeland. They had returned to discover that the reality of restoration didn’t meet their expectations. They expected smooth sailing, sunshine, and blue skies, but much like my pastor friend, the reality didn’t live up to the promise. The books of Ezra and Nehemiah detail the struggles to rebuild the city, the Temple, and the religious life. It was not easy by a long shot. The Promised Land did not fit the hopes that had been kindled in Babylon.
Third Isaiah renewed the promise made during the exile. God, the prophet said, had not forgotten the people. They were not alone. They were not forsaken. They were not left to their own devices. They were not going to have to fend for themselves. There was going to be a light in their darkness.
Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you. See the darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the people, but the Lord rises upon you and his glory appears over you. Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn (Isaiah 60:1-3).
For over five hundred years, that promise was kept alive in the hearts and dreams of the people. For five hundred years, they looked for the light. For five hundred years, they held on to the hope that the nations would come once again and find glory in the light of the Lord, shining from Mt. Zion.
And then the light appeared again. It appeared to shepherds and was accompanied by the heavenly choir of angels singing out their praises. It appeared as a star guiding the magi from far away to the place where they could lay their eyes on the child. The light appeared in the hearts and minds of those who were not too busy to stop and ponder. It appeared to those who were looking for answers in the midst of unknowing. It appeared to those who were at wit’s end. It appeared to those who had nothing to lose, and eternity to gain. The gospel - the good news - glowed in the darkness for all to see. Those whose hearts were receptive, received it with joy.
I know there are skeptics out there. I know there are those who think that all of this talk of the coming of the light is just so much talk. I know that there are some who think this is just a dream of utopia which will never be realized. I know there are those like my pastor friend who are so beaten and defeated and dejected by life and circumstance, that they can’t even lift their heads to look up to see the light.
I know that there are many who don’t believe that the light has enough power to penetrate the incredible darkness that is round about. But this is said only by those who have never really experienced the darkness. Remember some people with me.
• Remember Job, who in the midst of loneliness, despair, desperation, and abandonment, could proclaim, “I know that my redeemer lives.” (Job 19:25)
• Remember the Christians who escaped to the catacombs and maintained their lives of prayer and worship.
• Remember the Black slaves in the southern states who sang of Elijah’s chariot swinging low to carry them to freedom.
• Remember Jewish prisoners in the concentration camps of World War II who painted butterflies on the walls of their cells.
• Remember the Dutch Christians who gathered in defiance of Nazi orders – so they could honor their martyrs.
• Remember Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador who offered the Eucharist as the sights of an assassin’s rifle targeted his heart.
• Remember the “babushkas” of Russia, the grandmothers who kept the faith alive through the Soviet times. Through decades of state-sponsored persecution, they refused to give up their faith. In large measure, it was the faith of the babushkas which enabled the Russian church to survive and overcome.
Those who don’t believe in the light are those who have never experienced the heart of darkness. Those who know the darkness also know the light.
The light has come. It still shines despites tyrants and despots who have tried to extinguish it. It has come in the face of the baby in the manger. As promised by the prophet, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Isaiah 9:2). As announced by Peter, we are “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, that we may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (I Peter 2:9). John the Baptist testified that there is a light that the darkness cannot extinguish. Jesus himself would declare, “I am the light of the world.”
The star that guided the magi to the place where they could find Jesus has long-ago faded from view, but the light remains. No longer do we have a faint hope. Now we have Jesus. No longer do we wonder. Now we have the certainty of the presence of our Lord.
The gospel glows in the dark. The darkness has not, will not, and cannot overcome it. We have waited for a long time for the light to come. There were days that we didn’t think it would ever happen. But now we know that God can be trusted. Now we know that God keeps his word. Now we know that we are not left alone.
I don’t know what will happen to any of us this year. I don’t know who will be touched by death or illness. I don’t know which families will face strained relations. I don’t know who will lose jobs. I don’t know who will suffer from sorrow. I don’t know who will question their place in the cosmos. I don’t know which of us will be here to celebrate the coming of 2007 together.
But I do know the One who has come. I do know the One whose light shines in the darkness. I do know the One who promises never to leave us. I do know the One in whom I place my faith.
I may not understand God’s timetable, or God’s working, or God’s will, or God’s love. I may not understand how God can continue to love me as I am. I may not know how God can continue to spread his mercy and grace among such people who make such a mess of their lives.
But I do know that the light has come. I do know that the gospel glows in the dark. I will not be afraid. I will never give up. I will trust God.
