St Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church
February 5, 2012
Epiphany 5B – Isaiah 40
I’m going to start out this morning with a little history lesson.
In the sixth century B.C.E., the empire of Babylon destroyed Jerusalem
and took many of the people of Israel captive.
For 50 years, God’s people lived in exile in Babylon.
The words we read this morning from the book of Isaiah were written for these exiles.
They had been taken from the home they loved
and were living in a strange land.
They grieved for their holy city, their religious practice, and their way of life.
They wondered if God had forgotten them.
The prophet wrote these words to assure the people that even though they were suffering,
God had not forgotten them.
His first words in chapter 40 are the familiar phrase,
“Comfort, comfort my people,” says your God.
The prophet reminds the people of Israel of the power and might of their God,
who created the world from nothingness and sustains all life.
“Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand
and marked off the heavens with a span,
enclosed the crust of the earth in a measure,
and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance?
Who stretches out the heavens like a curtain,
and spreads them like a tent to live in
Lift up your eyes and see: Who created these?
God, who brings out their host and numbers them, calling them by name;
because he is great in strength, mighty in power, not one is missing.”
The prophet also reminds the people of their place before their God.
“All people are grass,” he cries,
“Their constancy is like the flowers of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades,
when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass.”
It is God who sits above the circle of the earth,
and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers.”
Are these words of comfort?
How is it good news to be compared to fading grass – or grasshoppers?
For the people in exile, it was not news at all.
The prophet simply put words to what they already felt in their hearts –
powerlessness and vulnerability.
Utter dependence on a God who seemed to have forgotten them.
Most of us know what it feels like to be in exile.
Not literally, of course.
But I’d guess that we’ve all felt, at some time in our lives, like strangers in a strange land.
We have experienced – or we are now experiencing –
suffering which makes us feel lost and alone.
Whether it is sickness or grief,
mental illness or addiction,
the loss of a relationship or the loss of a dream,
suffering can make us feel exiled.
Our struggles and pain can make us feel separated from the community,
from our best selves,
even from God.
The words of the prophet address us in these places of vulnerability and fear:
“Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
God does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.
God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless.
Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted;
but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles.”
With these words, the prophet invites the people to “wait for the Lord.”
He does not mean a passive waiting –
just sitting around waiting for what’s next.
Waiting for the Lord means trusting.
Waiting for the Lord means practicing the faith –
worshipping, praying, serving, and studying.
Waiting for the Lord is something God’s people do together.
It’s part of what it means to be in community.
During the course of life in the community of God’s people,
each of us goes back and forth -
some days certain, some days doubting,
some days full of love and trust, some days locked in fear and sadness.
One purpose of community is that when you are in exile,
going through the motions for the sake of a hope you haven’t quite forsaken –
there are others here whose trust can carry you along.
Waiting for the Lord means that even if you doubt, you go on with life and faith
as if you know God is there for you, supporting your steps.
And your practice of faith will eventually allow you to once again see and experience God working in your life.
I want to share with you two stories of what waiting in exile looks like.
When I was 25, I got a divorce and left the seminary.
My marriage had failed.
The church was not what I had hoped it would be.
I was very depressed and had a very hard time praying.
Somehow, I came across Psalm 42/43, with the repeating refrain:
Why are you cast down, oh my soul, and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God, for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.
I prayed the psalm every day for weeks.
Slowly, the words became imprinted in my mind – and then on my heart.
When I had no words of my own – when I was stuck in anger and doubt –
these words of scripture opened me up
to once again know God’s loving presence in my life.
Years later, when I was a pastor in Illinois,
I spent two years in a covenant group with four other women.
One of the women, Melanie, started the group at a particularly difficult time in her life.
She was in a difficult marriage, a job she hated,
and her daughter had been bullied so badly she had contemplated suicide.
Through hard work with counselors and lots of prayer,
Melanie’s family was dealing with their problems and life was getting,
marginally, better.
Then Melanie was diagnosed with cancer.
She told us in a brief email,
and we all worried for the weeks until we got together again.
I think we all expected to see Melanie weeping, distraught,
as she had been at our first meetings.
Instead, Melanie was calm, and she told us this story.
After her diagnosis, she drove home, pulled into her garage, and just sat in her car.
And while she sat there, she suddenly felt God’s presence with her.
She felt bathed in light, held in loving arms.
And she knew it would be alright.
She knew God had been with her so far, and that whatever happened next,
God would always be with her.
Melanie’s cancer wasn’t miraculously healed.
She wasn’t spared the months of cancer treatment,
or continued work to heal her family.
But Melanie’s faith – the faith she pursued even in her time of exile -
made a difference in how she experienced her struggle.
About a year after our program ended, we all heard from Valerie again.
She was cancer-free, and she was beginning new work – as a spiritual director.
The words in Isaiah spoke centuries ago to the Babylonian exiles are spoken to us as well.
Wait. Trust.
Live in faith, even when you don’t feel like it.
Have confidence that God has not forgotten or left you alone.
“Have you not known? Have you not heard?
God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless.
Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted;
but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles.”
Count on it.
Amen
February 5, 2012
Epiphany 5B – Isaiah 40
I’m going to start out this morning with a little history lesson.
In the sixth century B.C.E., the empire of Babylon destroyed Jerusalem
and took many of the people of Israel captive.
For 50 years, God’s people lived in exile in Babylon.
The words we read this morning from the book of Isaiah were written for these exiles.
They had been taken from the home they loved
and were living in a strange land.
They grieved for their holy city, their religious practice, and their way of life.
They wondered if God had forgotten them.
The prophet wrote these words to assure the people that even though they were suffering,
God had not forgotten them.
His first words in chapter 40 are the familiar phrase,
“Comfort, comfort my people,” says your God.
The prophet reminds the people of Israel of the power and might of their God,
who created the world from nothingness and sustains all life.
“Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand
and marked off the heavens with a span,
enclosed the crust of the earth in a measure,
and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance?
Who stretches out the heavens like a curtain,
and spreads them like a tent to live in
Lift up your eyes and see: Who created these?
God, who brings out their host and numbers them, calling them by name;
because he is great in strength, mighty in power, not one is missing.”
The prophet also reminds the people of their place before their God.
“All people are grass,” he cries,
“Their constancy is like the flowers of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades,
when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass.”
It is God who sits above the circle of the earth,
and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers.”
Are these words of comfort?
How is it good news to be compared to fading grass – or grasshoppers?
For the people in exile, it was not news at all.
The prophet simply put words to what they already felt in their hearts –
powerlessness and vulnerability.
Utter dependence on a God who seemed to have forgotten them.
Most of us know what it feels like to be in exile.
Not literally, of course.
But I’d guess that we’ve all felt, at some time in our lives, like strangers in a strange land.
We have experienced – or we are now experiencing –
suffering which makes us feel lost and alone.
Whether it is sickness or grief,
mental illness or addiction,
the loss of a relationship or the loss of a dream,
suffering can make us feel exiled.
Our struggles and pain can make us feel separated from the community,
from our best selves,
even from God.
The words of the prophet address us in these places of vulnerability and fear:
“Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
God does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.
God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless.
Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted;
but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles.”
With these words, the prophet invites the people to “wait for the Lord.”
He does not mean a passive waiting –
just sitting around waiting for what’s next.
Waiting for the Lord means trusting.
Waiting for the Lord means practicing the faith –
worshipping, praying, serving, and studying.
Waiting for the Lord is something God’s people do together.
It’s part of what it means to be in community.
During the course of life in the community of God’s people,
each of us goes back and forth -
some days certain, some days doubting,
some days full of love and trust, some days locked in fear and sadness.
One purpose of community is that when you are in exile,
going through the motions for the sake of a hope you haven’t quite forsaken –
there are others here whose trust can carry you along.
Waiting for the Lord means that even if you doubt, you go on with life and faith
as if you know God is there for you, supporting your steps.
And your practice of faith will eventually allow you to once again see and experience God working in your life.
I want to share with you two stories of what waiting in exile looks like.
When I was 25, I got a divorce and left the seminary.
My marriage had failed.
The church was not what I had hoped it would be.
I was very depressed and had a very hard time praying.
Somehow, I came across Psalm 42/43, with the repeating refrain:
Why are you cast down, oh my soul, and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God, for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.
I prayed the psalm every day for weeks.
Slowly, the words became imprinted in my mind – and then on my heart.
When I had no words of my own – when I was stuck in anger and doubt –
these words of scripture opened me up
to once again know God’s loving presence in my life.
Years later, when I was a pastor in Illinois,
I spent two years in a covenant group with four other women.
One of the women, Melanie, started the group at a particularly difficult time in her life.
She was in a difficult marriage, a job she hated,
and her daughter had been bullied so badly she had contemplated suicide.
Through hard work with counselors and lots of prayer,
Melanie’s family was dealing with their problems and life was getting,
marginally, better.
Then Melanie was diagnosed with cancer.
She told us in a brief email,
and we all worried for the weeks until we got together again.
I think we all expected to see Melanie weeping, distraught,
as she had been at our first meetings.
Instead, Melanie was calm, and she told us this story.
After her diagnosis, she drove home, pulled into her garage, and just sat in her car.
And while she sat there, she suddenly felt God’s presence with her.
She felt bathed in light, held in loving arms.
And she knew it would be alright.
She knew God had been with her so far, and that whatever happened next,
God would always be with her.
Melanie’s cancer wasn’t miraculously healed.
She wasn’t spared the months of cancer treatment,
or continued work to heal her family.
But Melanie’s faith – the faith she pursued even in her time of exile -
made a difference in how she experienced her struggle.
About a year after our program ended, we all heard from Valerie again.
She was cancer-free, and she was beginning new work – as a spiritual director.
The words in Isaiah spoke centuries ago to the Babylonian exiles are spoken to us as well.
Wait. Trust.
Live in faith, even when you don’t feel like it.
Have confidence that God has not forgotten or left you alone.
“Have you not known? Have you not heard?
God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless.
Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted;
but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles.”
Count on it.
Amen
