Wilderness Wanderings

But now be strong, Zerubbabel,' declares the Lord. 'Be strong, Joshua son of Jozadak, the high priest. Be strong, all you people of the land,' declares the Lord, 'and work. For I am with you,' declares the Lord Almighty. 'This is what I covenanted with you when you came out of Egypt. And my Spirit remains among you. Do not fear.' "This is what the Lord Almighty says: 'In a little while I will once more shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land. I will shake all nations, and what is desired by all nations will come, and I will fill this house with glory,' says the Lord Almighty. 'The silver is mine and the gold is mine,' declares the Lord Almighty. 'The glory of this present house will be greater than the glory of the former house,' says the Lord Almighty. 'And in this place I will grant peace,' declares the Lord Almighty." (Haggai 2:4-9)

We wonder at times, and especially in these times after lockdowns, whether we really need to go to a church to worship God. And in some sense, the answer is a resounding no. God is everywhere present, God is spirit—all the universe belongs to God—so how can we be anywhere but in his presence all the time? Wherever we are, he is. We can pray by ourselves, read the Bible by ourselves—and actually we might just find that we do better on our own without all the hypocrisies of the church anyway. So what do we need a committed habit of Sunday worship in a particular place and with a particular people for?

The returning exiles from Babylon perhaps wondered the same. They too had been removed from their regular place and habit of worship—and for a much longer time: some 60-70 years. Now having come back, they had erected their own houses, but the Temple of the Lord was still a blackened pile of rubble. It was no site of worship or connection with God. And, well, they seemed to be doing alright without it, so why build?

But here's the thing, throughout Israel's history as a nation, God continually chose to dwell with his people in a particular spot and in a particular way. There was a tabernacle and later a temple with an ark where God was enthroned and where his words lay. This is the mode through which the condescending God had chosen to dwell with his people: in a particular, central place of meeting.

So Haggai calls the people once again to rebuild. To lean in, to invest, to commit, to work together until the temple is rebuilt and the glory of the Lord is restored in the place where God once again has chosen for his glory to rest. But a problem soon arises: this temple looks nothing like the former one. It is much diminished, not only smaller, but also with far more crude and humble materials.

So comes Haggai's reminder in our text: the temple is not so much about the look of the place, or the size of it, or the number of people who gather in it—it is about the God who fills it with his glory.

Of course, all this temple imagery is fulfilled in Jesus Christ who becomes, in himself, the embodiment of the word, the rule, and the glorious presence of God on earth. And yet his incarnation at Christmas and his post-Easter promises remind us that it is still in a particular place and time that the condescending God chooses to dwell with his people: now in the church.

And so a similar thing could be said to us as was said through Haggai: though our church community may have changed over these last few years—no matter how things look, it remains important to lean in and commit to being present together with God's people in this place, trusting that what fills our gathering place with meaning and purpose is Jesus, who brings his glory and his peace into it.

So remember: God's covenant remains, the Spirit is among us, and Jesus is with us. There is no reason to fear.

Sing, Daughter Zion; shout aloud, Israel! Be glad and rejoice with all your heart, Daughter Jerusalem! The Lord has taken away your punishment, he has turned back your enemy. The Lord, the King of Israel, is with you; never again will you fear any harm. On that day they will say to Jerusalem, "Do not fear, Zion; do not let your hands hang limp. The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you but will rejoice over you with singing."

"I will remove from you all who mourn over the loss of your appointed festivals, which is a burden and reproach for you. At that time, I will deal with all who oppressed you. I will rescue the lame; I will gather the exiles. I will give them praise and honor in every land where they have suffered shame. At that time, I will gather you; at that time, I will bring you home. I will give you honor and praise among all the peoples of the earth when I restore your fortunes before your very eyes," says the Lord (Zephaniah 3:14-20).

Overall, Zephaniah's prophecies are a lament. There is not much good in Israel. Nor does he prophecy good things for Israel. Yet, his book ends inviting God's people to rejoice. Suffering and pain are ahead of her, so how can she rejoice? Because after her punishment God will act to heal her. Through the lens of the New Testament, we see that Jesus acted just as God promised. Let's have a look.

First, God will pardon Israel for her sins. Much of the book explores God as Israel's judge. His people are guilty of breaking covenant. Zion was a rebellious, polluted, and oppressing city (3:1). That forgiving sin is central to Jesus' mission is clear from the outset. The angel said to Joseph, "you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins" (Matthew 1:21). Several times in his ministry, Jesus heals people with the words, "Your sins are forgiven" (Luke 5:23, 7:48). Christmas is only an empty holiday filled with trivialities if there is no sin to forgive. Our joy will be empty and vague if we cannot rejoice in being forgiven sinners.

Second, God comes to Israel as the Divine Warrior to defeat all her enemies. "Never again does Israel need to fear any harm," says Zephaniah. Jesus's first disciples portray him as this Divine Warrior, though he defeated the principalities and powers who ruin human life in a most unexpected way. "Now since the children have flesh and blood in common, Jesus also shared in these, so that through His death He might destroy the one holding the power of death— that is, the Devil— and free those who were held in slavery all their lives by the fear of death" (Hebrews 2:14-15).

Third, Zephaniah says, "The Lord, the King of Israel, is with you" (15,17). In the dark days, God seemed absent. But God will return to his people. We see here hints of Jesus name, Immanuel. Paul wrote that once we were "without hope and without God in this world" (Ephesians 2:12). But now in Christ Jesus we who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ (13). Jesus gives us his Holy Spirit so that he is with us all the time. Indeed, God is with us, Immanuel.

Fourth, God comes acting as Israel's shepherd. He deals with the wolves and false shepherds who oppressed his flock and he "rescues the lame and gathers those who have been scattered." Picking up this image, Jesus says he is the Good Shepherd who gathers all his lost sheep into the fold (John 10:14-16). We witness Jesus doing this very thing with incredible tenderness.

Finally, the shame of God's defeated people will be replaced by "praise and honor in every land where they were put to shame." In every way, God will come and "restore your fortunes." Paul writes, "And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus" (Ephesians 2:6-7).

Some of this we already experience today, but much of it is still waiting for us. Already now, in Christ we can know the forgiveness of our sins; we can experience Jesus gathering us into the fellowship of his people. We'd love to connect with you so you can know more about these things.

Like Israel, we are invited to rejoice not only in what we have now, but in what God is still preparing for us. For us Christmas is more than just looking back to Jesus' birth. It is also looking forward with expectation to his return and the fulfillment of all these promises.

Marshal your troops now, city of troops, for a siege is laid against us. They will strike Israel's ruler on the cheek with a rod. "But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times." Therefore Israel will be abandoned until the time when she who is in labor bears a son, and the rest of his brothers return to join the Israelites. He will stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they will live securely, for then his greatness will reach to the ends of the earth. And he will be our peace (Micah 5:1-5a)

The remnant of Israel is in distress and under siege. Babylon is quite literally on the doorstep. The king is humiliated. So much for the greatness of the people who bear God's name.

In our own world, we received news that one of our fellow CRC churches in the area—New Street in Burlington, has voted to close in the new year. They are not the only church in our region who have been asking those questions about the future as of late. The pandemic has only accelerated the decline that brings churches to just this point.

It may feel then, and perhaps more and more so in the next few years as we hear word of more church closures, that the remnant of the Church of Jesus Christ is under siege and that the greatness of the people who bear God's name has diminished.

But then, it is important to hear once again and remember that it is to just those people that the prophecies of a Messiah come. It is to the last and the least, the ones who are counted out or not counted at all—like the "small" little town of Bethlehem, or the youngest son of Jesse who was assumed not to be worthy of inviting to the meeting with the prophet. These small and insignificant places and people are the ones that God continually seems to be doing some of his most significant work in and with.

And in Micah, he promises to do it again. Out some small, insignificant place among the clans of Judah, a significant ruler will come for the whole land. Out of the present weakness of Judah, this ruler will stand and shepherd in the strength of the Lord. Out of their insecurity, security will come. Out of their abandonment, diminishment, and humiliation, the Messiah will gather the people up once again and establish them securely under the greatness of his reign that will reach to the ends of the earth. From a place of siege and the threat of exile ring out the words: "he will be our peace."

So why is it that these words come to a people abandoned and much diminished? Why is it that the Lord uses such small and insignificant places and people to accomplish his work? Perhaps because they are the ones who know they need to be saved—that they can't do it themselves even though they've tried. Perhaps because they are the ones humble enough to see and believe that is the Lord and none other—not even themselves—that establishes the greatness, the security, and the peace of the people.

Whatever the reason, the fact that the church in our day is much diminished tells me in my heart that we can't be far from a revival. If things look like Good Friday, it most certainly means that Easter isn't far behind. These are precisely the conditions into which our God speaks his advent hope.

Amen. Come Lord Jesus, come.

"'The days are coming,' declares the Lord, 'when I will fulfill the good promise I made to the people of Israel and Judah. 'In those days and at that time I will make a righteous Branch sprout from David's line; he will do what is just and right in the land. In those days Judah will be saved, and Jerusalem will live in safety. This is the name by which it will be called: The Lord Our Righteous Savior' (Jeremiah 33:14-16).

Today, we return to the image of the Branch. Again, it is a balm for the soul of the weary Christian, weary of the church failings and weary of the struggle to live faithfully in this world.

It is a message that comes to Jeremiah the prophet, a prisoner in Jerusalem. First the Assyrians chopped up Israel and then the Babylonians chopped away at Judah. Only a remnant remains; even these leftovers refuse to follow the Lord God. A stump is a fair image for what is left of his people. And it will get slashed down even further when they flee to Egypt, a country they may not return to. God explicitly instructed them never to retrace their steps. Yet, this remnant will cart Jeremiah back through the wilderness. God's faithful prophet will die in Egypt.

Into this miserable setting, God speaks to Jeremiah, reiterating his promise that this devastation will not be the end of Israel's story. Last week, the Ruler from David's line was called, "The LORD our Righteousness." Here, Jerusalem is given that name. The remaining Israelites will hear in this title a play on the name of Zedekiah, the last king of Judah, which means "The Lord is righteous."

Zedekiah was anything but godly. As a righteous king, he was a dramatic failure. He simply refused to put his trust in God. Yet the promise remains, someone from the line of David will come, a branch will grow from the stump. The future will bring a just and righteous king in contrast with the end of Judean history as witnessed by Jeremiah. Salvation and safety are in store for Judah and Jerusalem because this branch will personify justice and righteousness.

This promise to the Davidic house comes unexpectedly in Jeremiah. The dynasty is generally regarded as Israel's main problem and this vision of a David-shaped future is rare. Nonetheless, God's favour toward the dynasty and family of David are Israel's central promises and God is true to his word. That out of this broken line of David's descendants hope should sprout is an encouraging word for believers today. To paraphrase Jesus, "With God, all things are possible."

The word "righteous" tells us of the ruler's character; "branch" of his humble origins. He will bring justice and righteousness, not just to Israel, but to the whole earth. As we saw last week, Christ is the promised Ruler from David's line, and his ministry on behalf of his people shows the depth of God's commitment to us. Then as now, we are called to trust in God's promise and to live according to the hope revealed to us.

Christian hope reaches for the future of the fullness of God's kingdom. Hope, at least in part, is maintained by living according to the values of this kingdom in the here and now. That is why, after his long chapter on the future resurrection, Paul concludes simply, "Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain" (1 Corinthians 15:58).

Further, we are also called to look not at the church, but to Christ. He is our righteousness. "It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption" (1 Corinthians 1:30). It is from him that we receive our beauty, not from ourselves. This, too, is something we ought to deeply consider, especially church leaders who are so concerned to root out impurity. We will not save ourselves, only Christ can redeem us.

When kings practice justice and righteousness, their cities and lands are healed and saved. In Jeremiah's day, Jerusalem was a sordid city, her kings disappointing, exploitative towards the common folk. Yet, out of this mess came Jesus of Nazareth, of the house of David. At his ascension, he occupied God's throne from which he rules his church. Let us look to him, he is our only hope.

An extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Luke 1:57-80 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN QUESTIONS

1. When you think of darkness (like the kind spoken of in v. 79)—what sorts of things come to mind? What is that darkness? What do you think that darkness might be in our secular world today?
2. What might have the people of Zechariah & Elizabeth's town thought that the darkness was? What kind of salvation were they looking for?
3. What knowledge of salvation was John to give the people? How was that different from what they were looking for? How was it the same (even if it addressed the problems of darkness in a different way)?
4. What sin do you struggle with in the darkness of your own heart?
5. How will you join the work of the kingdom of light within our world this week?
6. Zechariah speaks as though God's redemption & salvation have already happened, even though Jesus hadn't yet come the first time. Why was he able to speak like that? Even though Jesus hasn't yet come the second time, why are we able to speak like that?

This is what the Lord says: "Sing with joy for Jacob; shout for the foremost of the nations. Make your praises heard, and say, 'Lord, save your people, the remnant of Israel.' See, I will bring them from the land of the north and gather them from the ends of the earth. Among them will be the blind and the lame, expectant mothers and women in labor; a great throng will return. They will come with weeping; they will pray as I bring them back. I will lead them beside streams of water on a level path where they will not stumble, because I am Israel's father, and Ephraim is my firstborn son. "Hear the word of the Lord, you nations; proclaim it in distant coastlands: 'He who scattered Israel will gather them and will watch over his flock like a shepherd.' (Jeremiah 31:7-10)

This word of Jeremiah is for exiles, a people scattered. They will not always be on the outside of their hope, looking in. One day they will possess it.

Through this text, there is good news. All those broken, marginalized, scattered, cast out will be gathered up by the Lord. The blind, the lame, and women carrying the hope of pregnancy will be among the throng. This word of hope keeps company with the prayers of the psalms, like in its psalm twenty-three-esque picture of the good shepherd leading his people home beside streams of water. Or like in psalm 121, God's people will not stumble for the Lord watches over them in their going and coming. The people are coming home to their inheritance, and all God's promises are being made true in their return.

But they aren't there yet. Just as we aren't. This word is a future promise. It's a good one, but it isn't here yet. That's why this is an advent text. It holds in common the tension of our faith: future hope and present prayer.

The people are given this word of future hope. It is theirs to guard and keep with their very life and for their very life. It is a sure promise from God: they will return from exile and from their time of being scattered to the ends of the earth. Even the nations are told about these promises of God. So sure is the promise that God invites the accountability of witnesses. It is a public proclamation of the King: let all who hear it believe: God will gather up his scattered flock like a good shepherd.

In the meantime, however, the people are also commanded to pray. Through songs of joy and petitions of praise, their prayers are to arise: "Lord, save your people, the remnant of Israel." This is their faithful act of worship until the day the Lord accomplishes what he has promised. They are to hold the hope and petition in praise.

What an odd thing, a praise-petition. "Lord, save your people" doesn't sound much like praise. But it is, because it's grounded in a God and a promise so sure it can be believed as if accomplished. There is joy in the hoping, even as there remains the deep tension of desiring.

So it is with us in advent. We joyfully hope in the things we cannot see and have not received. We prayerfully praise out our petition "come, Lord Jesus come." Save all your people, now scattered. Your restless church. Our wayward children of your covenant promises. All those broken, marginalized, scattered, and cast out. Gather us all, we expectantly, painfully, and joyfully pray.

"The days are coming," declares the Lord, "when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, a King who will reign wisely and do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety. This is the name by which he will be called: The Lord Our Righteous Savior" (Jeremiah 23:5-6).

Our text for today is a balm for the soul. Like myself, many of you know Christians who have become separated from the fellowship of the church. Some may have left because they observed many Christians listless in their faith, only paying lip service to the deep dynamics of God's kingdom, claiming to believe but unwilling to shape their lives by the kingdom's demands.

Others may have been hurt by careless words, whether directed at them or at someone else. The speaker may not have intended to inflict harm but was unwilling to acknowledge that injury was done. In the church we still often live by the motto, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me." I can remember chanting those words while my heart wept with pain. Many have been hurt and, while still clinging to Jesus, are afraid of his church.

And yet others, have fled from the church fellowship because of the sins of church leaders. You know the kinds: abusive, manipulative, narcissistic behaviour; financial fraud; sexual grooming and abuse; neglect of the hurting.

You may know other things that have caused Christians to separate from the church. Jeremiah 23 addresses the realities of the last matter I mentioned: the selfish sins of church leaders who are in it for themselves, who abuse their flock. That is their problem: they think the people are theirs to do with as they please. But they are wrong. The chapter begins, "'Woe to the shepherds who are destroying and scattering the sheep of my pasture!' declares the Lord." Its God's flock that is under attack.

It is particularly damning that these shepherds destroy the sheep since real shepherds go to great lengths to take care of and protect their flock. Jeremiah is referring to the kings of Judah, descendants of David the shepherd. Rather than keep these sheep together for their protection, they have scattered them, making them easy prey. They will be judged because they have failed to fulfill the duties of their office.

However, the punishment of these evil shepherds signals the beginnings of salvation. God speaks to a future, 'the days are coming'. Israel is compared to a tree that has been chopped down, but from its stump comes a shoot or a branch. The Messiah as a branch is found also in Isaiah 4:2; Zechariah 3:8 and 6:12 and elsewhere.

Ultimately, this prophecy is fulfilled in Christ, who is the righteous shepherd and the descendant of David. He is "the LORD Our Righteous Saviour." Through Jeremiah, God promises to raise up for his scattered people a shepherd who will rule justly and wisely. In contrast to the unworthy leaders, Jesus says, "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep…I know my sheep and my sheep know me… I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd" (John 10:11,14, 16).

God's promise through Jeremiah is a balm for the souls of all who weep at the scattering of God's church. Whether that dispersion happens through internal conflicts during which we verbally crucify each other or abusive behaviour of church leaders, it is cause for weeping. Jeremiah and Jesus are equally disturbed by the tragedy of God's sheep wandering aimlessly and leaderless over the hillsides.

God's promise is that Jesus will shepherd his people with righteousness and justice. There is a warning here to all who use power for their own cause. The biblical concept of shalom is rooted in the idea that you and I use our power, how ever large or small that might be, for the welfare of those who have less. Jesus' mother understood this, she sang, "He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty" (Luke 1:52-53).

The message of Christmas is difficult to accept, especially for those with power. Let us pray that we can accept it and live it. And let us pray that Jesus will gather his scattered flock as promised.

Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains would tremble before you! As when fire sets twigs ablaze and causes water to boil, come down to make your name known to your enemies and cause the nations to quake before you! For when you did awesome things that we did not expect, you came down, and the mountains trembled before you. Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him. You come to the help of those who gladly do right, who remember your ways. But when we continued to sin against them, you were angry. How then can we be saved? All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away. No one calls on your name or strives to lay hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us and have given us over to our sins. Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. Do not be angry beyond measure, Lord; do not remember our sins forever. Oh, look on us, we pray, for we are all your people. (Isaiah 64:1-9)

Woof. What a prayer. A powerful prayer, made for just this moment, I think. Both our moment in Advent, but also in the church in the Western world at this moment.

We prayed this prayer in worship about a week and a half ago. And I think today, rather than me saying much about it, it's appropriate simply to invite you to go back and pray this prayer as your very own prayer and let that be the time of devotion for today.

So, reflect on this prayer today—where are these words your own? And then pray it. Let it name your advent longings, and let it be the words of your confession, finishing perhaps with that Revelation prayer: "Come, Lord Jesus, come."

I will tell of the kindnesses of the Lord, the deeds for which he is to be praised, according to all the Lord has done for us—yes, the many good things he has done for Israel, according to his compassion and many kindnesses. He said, "Surely they are my people, children who will be true to me"; and so, he became their Savior. In all their distress he too was distressed, and the angel of his presence saved them. In his love and mercy, he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old. Yet they rebelled and grieved his Holy Spirit. So, he turned and became their enemy and he himself fought against them. Then his people recalled the days of old… (Isaiah 63:7-11a).

Our text contains three themes which are woven throughout the Bible. They are evident already in Genesis, yet in the Exodus story they rise to the forefront and are rarely far from the surface thereafter. And it is to the Exodus story that Isaiah appeals in our text.

In that story, God's "kindnesses" and "compassion" (7) are discovered, as is his "love and mercy" (9). He is One who does "good things" (7) in saving and redeeming (9) his people. This revelation of God as full of generous and underserved grace pulls the Bible's story along. We see it again in the birth of the church. How else could a group of people who were neither the intelligentsia nor the elite of their day have the impact on the world that those first Christians did? It was only the result of the grace of God. Paul marvels that this grace permitted him to be the one to reveal the mystery of Christ to the Gentiles.

The Exodus story also reveals the rebellious character of God's people. After all God had done for them, the Israelites turned against him. Isaiah says they "grieved [God's] Holy Spirit" (10). This is the language of intimate relationship, for the "Holy Spirit" is God's personal presence among his people. In verse 14, "the Spirit of the LORD" gives "rest" to the people. Clearly God is personally involved with us. Our text says, "he lifted them up and carried them" (9).

All this makes the rebellion more unthinkable. It is not a king or a judge who has been disobeyed or whose authority has been denied. Rather, it is a father's love, care, and concern that has been treated as worthless. The result is that their Lover became their "enemy" (10). God cannot be played with.

This theme is part of the church's story as well. Think of Ananias and Saphira in Acts 5. The New Testament contains multiple warnings against taking God's grace for granted. Like Israel, the church has often rebelled, and as a result crumbled under the weight of her own sin. We have seen it too often of late.

But as Exodus illustrates both the undeserved grace of God and the shocking rebellion of the people, it also illustrates what older theologians called the "biddability" of God. Despite the rebellion of the first generation in the desert, God did not abandon his people. Although he would have been justified in wiping them off the face of the earth in response to their repeated breaking of the covenant, he did not do so.

This is the third theme of our text. Across the centuries, time after time, when it appeared that the church had finally gone beyond the point of restoration, that very thing occurs. Often, through human agents, God renewed and renews his church: Francis of Assisi, Martin Luther, Mother Teresa, John Wesley, Lucy Farrow, Billy Graham, to name just a few. Alongside these, there have been millions of unknown people who have turned to God in failure, despair, and shame and found not merely restoration to favor but more than that, genuine cleansing, and revitalization. In our rebellion, we have experienced God's incredible willingness to hear the prayer of desolation and come back home to our hearts once again.

Isaiah calls us to return to our first love. It begins with the closing words of our text, "Then his people recalled the days of old..." and carries on through the end of the book. The One who has carried us through all the years calls us back. He is the One who gave us birth in the first place, who held our arms when we took our first steps, and who faithfully guided us out of the desert into green pastures. The whispers of the Holy Spirit are those of a broken-hearted Lover who tells us that it is not too late to return to his arms. He has breathed new life into his church before, and he will do it again.

I have posted watchmen on your walls, Jerusalem; they will never be silent day or night. You who call on the Lord, give yourselves no rest, and give him no rest till he establishes Jerusalem and makes her the praise of the earth. The Lord has sworn by his right hand and by his mighty arm… Pass through, pass through the gates! Prepare the way for the people. Build up, build up the highway! Remove the stones. Raise a banner for the nations. The Lord has made proclamation to the ends of the earth: "Say to Daughter Zion, 'See, your Savior comes! See, his reward is with him, and his recompense accompanies him.'" (Isaiah 62:6-8a, 10-11)

This is an advent passage if ever there was one. Why are the watchmen posted on Jerusalem's walls? To look out for danger and defend the cause of the Lord and his people? One might think so. We often have a heroic notion about our faith—like that somehow we are the ones who need to do the saving. But the watchmen on the walls in this passage are not soldiers, at least, not quite. They are sentinels, but that's about where the metaphor breaks down.

These are the watchmen of Psalm 130 that wait for the Lord like they wait for the morning—with an ever-piercing vigilance that remains alert and wakeful through every watch of the night. They are like the young girls of Matthew 25 who keep oil in their lamp while the bridegroom tarries. They are the servants of Luke 12:36 who keep watch for the master's arrival at any time. They are marked by vigilance and preparation.

But they also have quite a unique task unlike anything we tend to see within our own role as Christians. These watchmen are there—day and night—to sleeplessly bang on God's door with cries and shouts that permit him no rest and that remind him of his promises until he makes good on them.

We tend to hold a very objective and logical view of faith that says: if he said it, he will do it. And while that certainly is true, we then tend to leave it there and assume no further role for ourselves in the play of the divine theatre—for how dare we tell God what he should be doing? We might be willing to tell other people what they should be doing, but never God. Even if it means biting our tongue and dealing with simmering feelings of hurt, betrayal, and resentment toward God, we will pay the price, because we dare not confront our God.

Not so in the faith of the Old Testament. The work of God and his people was a team sport. If you look closely at Isaiah's words: it is God Himself who has set these watchmen on the wall to be reminding him of his promise. Telling God what he promised and telling him what he should be doing about it is a God-ordained work of prayer! Not necessarily because God is forgetful (though the text does allow for the possibility that God really does need the reminder), but because this is work that we must be participants in.

The work of the coming Kingdom is a work we all have a role in. Some of us as watchmen on the walls, calling to God through the dark watches of the night to tell him to come already. Some of us participate through our actions: removing the stones of injustice that block people's paths, raising a banner to invite the lost others in.

Jesus is coming again: and our waiting cannot be passive. God has given us each a role in his advent. What is yours?