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A Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Luke 1:1-25 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
I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. For as the soil makes the sprout come up and a garden causes seeds to grow, so the Sovereign Lord will make righteousness and praise spring up before all nations. For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, for Jerusalem's sake I will not remain quiet, till her vindication shines out like the dawn, her salvation like a blazing torch. The nations will see your vindication, and all kings your glory; you will be called by a new name that the mouth of the Lord will bestow. You will be a crown of splendor in the Lord's hand, a royal diadem in the hand of your God (Isaiah 61:10-62:3).
In ancient times, the week prior to a wedding was time for celebration, with the men celebrating in one area and the women in another. On the day of the wedding, the bride was led to her groom's home dressed in a gown he had provided for her. There another round of feasting occurred before the bride and groom went to the wedding chamber.
These ancient wedding customs lie behind the verses of our text. Knowing them is helpful for understanding Isaiah, but even more so to understand how this theme plays in the New Testament. Here are two passages rooted in our text. In Ephesians 5, Paul writes that the church will appear before Christ "without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless" (5:27). Revelation 19:7-8 adds, "For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready. Fine linen, bright and clean, was given her to wear. (Fine linen stands for the righteous acts of the saints)."
he wedding of Jesus and his bride, the church, will be the final act of this age. Rooted in Isaiah's imagery, the New Testament makes the point that we are currently in the week of wedding preparation. Two things happen in that week: dressing up and celebration. This was already evident in yesterday's devotion in which God promises to bestow on the grieving "a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair" (Isaiah 61:3).
Praise and thanksgiving are the natural response to grace that has been personally received and experienced. Inspired and gifted poets help us to voice this praise. Hymns such as Amazing Grace and Amazing Love, How Can it Be are classic examples. More recently In Christ Alone and How Deep the Father's Love help us express our praise for God's grace which we have experienced in Christ.
Because we live between the two comings of our Lord, the Christian life is characterized by joy. There are times when it gets washed away by the griefs and hardships of life in this sin-stained world. Yet, it keeps rising again, leaking quietly back into our lives, filling us with thanksgiving and with expectation and hope for what is to come.
Celebration marks the Christian life; but also, 'dressing up.' Notice how Isaiah phrases things, "For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness" (10). Also take in what John sees, "Fine linen, bright and clean, was given her to wear" (Fine linen stands for the righteous acts of the saints) (Revelation 19:8).
God does for us what we cannot do for ourselves, that is, to make us like himself, to behave as he does. To Titus Paul wrote, "Jesus Christ gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good" (2:13-14). Forgiveness of sin is not the end; it is only the means. The end is that we should live out the righteousness of God by faith. We cannot live out this righteousness in our own strength. Only as we believe, that through his Spirit, Jesus is giving us cloths of his own righteousness, do we discover God making us holy.
Shall we go to the wedding feast of the Lamb clothed in the rags of our own failures? Surely not! We come to the celebration clothed in a gown of righteous behavior. Jesus has caused this garment to grow through the power of the Holy Spirit. Isaiah invites us to lift our eyes from the horror of our own sin and to see the glory of what Jesus is doing in us. Like the ancients, let's celebrate as we get ready.
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations. (Isaiah 61:1-4)
This passage is a breath of fresh air, isn't it? Finally everything set right. Even more eloquently than the book of Revelation, this passage gives the future hopes of God's people: the year of jubilee comes with healing, freedom, justice, and provision enough for all. It is the day when death and the curse of ashes to ashes and dust to dust is undone, traded in for the undying glory and beauty of our resurrection bodies in the new creation. Then will our time of mourning end and our despair be dispersed in the dawn of a new day.
So much around us at present seems to be crumbling—institutions and memories and the ways that thing were even being torn down—deconstructed, literally in the world around us and figuratively in many of our own hearts and minds. It is a disorienting world of much change where very little makes sense according to our sensibilities of even just a decade ago.
But whatever has been lost, whatever has been torn down—by us or by others—on this day, God's day: it will be rebuilt. Not perhaps in the way that it was. But in a renewed way—the way of the Kingdom of God—the way of the New Creation.
As Reformed people we often look back to the Creation Order to understand the norms by which we are to live in this day. But our faith does not lean backwards to the past—passages like this remind us that our faith leans and even longs forward, not toward the old creation, but toward the new.
Now of course, Isaiah was talking to an exiled people of Israel, and the ruins they longed to rebuild were the ruins of Jerusalem and its temple. Of course, the rebuilding of those ruins by the returning exiles only ever captured a shadow of what they had been back in Solomon's day. So, there is more here to this passage than that.
The New Testament confirms this. Jesus takes the opening lines of this passage up as the declaration of his own mission in Luke 4:18-19. This is the vision of the Kingdom of God that would shape the work of Jesus through his life, teaching, death, resurrection, and ascension. It is the vision that shapes the coming of the Kingdom of God still—in that future day when Jesus comes again and it's all complete, yes—but even here and now Jesus does this work through his Spirit and people like you and me. The new creation is here, is coming, and will one day be complete.
So: how does this Isaiah vision and mission of Jesus through the Kingdom that is coming on earth as it is in heaven shape your life and living? How are you participating in the proclamation of Good News to the poor, the brokenhearted, the captives and prisoners, those suffering from injustice, and those despairing in grief? How are you participating in the work, not just of deconstructing, but also of reconstructing until Jesus comes again? It's no easy work, but the "Spirit of the Sovereign Lord" is on us and we may trust—as Paul writes while reflecting on the resurrection in 1 Corinthians 15—that our "labor in the Lord is not in vain."
May Jesus accomplish it in and through his church—both now and finally on that day. Come, Lord Jesus, come.
How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, "Your God reigns!" Listen! Your watchmen lift up their voices; together they shout for joy. When the Lord returns to Zion, they will see it with their own eyes. Burst into songs of joy together, you ruins of Jerusalem, for the Lord has comforted his people, he has redeemed Jerusalem. The Lord will lay bare his holy arm in the sight of all the nations, and all the ends of the earth will see the salvation of our God (Isaiah 52:7-10).
As Pastor Anthony mentioned in yesterday's devotion, we cannot understand the fullness of Christmas without a rich understanding of sin. Whose fault is it, he asked? All the brokenness in the world, who is at fault? In some cases, me. In other cases, you. But in other cases, it's simply ours, as sin-broken people in a sin-broken world—our inheritance from our mothers and fathers before us. A place where awful things like death, pain, loneliness, and other forms of tragedy live.
When we talk about sin and its effects on our lives, sometimes we forget that sin is always an affront to God. It breaks our relationship with him and distorts the goodness of his creation. Because we are sin-broken people in a sin-broken world, communing with God, worshipping him, having faith in him does not come naturally. We need to put effort into it and in the end discover that God himself makes it possible to do this unnatural thing: a gift of his Spirit
In our passage for today, Israel has been removed from God because of her sin. She is in exile, banished from the presence of God, his temple in ruins. Jerusalem is a ruin of rubble and weeds and wild animals. There was once a city here, but how big she was or how grand, is not visible anymore. God's people had persisted in their sin against him, despite repeated warnings by the prophets. In the end, she was removed from the land.
But now, the prophet announces a new dawn; the sun is rising over Israel again. God has come. Feet that have tread the mountain pathways are not physically beautiful. They are calloused, dusty and most likely bloodied and blistered. They are only beautiful because they bring the message of salvation. To people long removed from God, having lived many years in the land of the deep darkness, these feet bring the good news of God's coming.
The Lord has returned to his people, keeping his covenant, gathering his people together once more. As a shepherd cares for his flock, so our Lord is comforting his scattered people. When the world is dark with wars, natural disasters, looting and inept governments, violence in our streets and a crumbling health care system unable to care for our loved ones, we too need to hear this word of good news, "Your God reigns."
We need someone to tell us this, to remind us, because it is not always evident. And God's salvation is slow in coming. It's been 2000 years since first John the baptizer and then Jesus himself, declared the 'Kingdom of God' was at hand. Often, we wonder, 'Where is this kingdom? Why do we see so little of it?" Because of the darkness that can envelop us, we need someone to say, "Your God reigns."
But we need more: we need to hear this invitation to celebration. For many reasons, we may not 'feel' like celebrating. Yet, the call remains, "Burst into songs of joy together". Soon, "The Lord will lay bare his holy arm in the sight of all the nations, and all the ends of the earth will see the salvation of our God." As we too anticipate that day, let us celebrate joyfully this Advent and Christmas season. As God came to Israel to end the exile, Jesus will return to this earth completing his work of salvation. Someday, we will see it. Creation will be restored, will be good once more. We will see it. Sin and all its effects will be wiped away.
Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins. … You who bring good news to Zion, go up on a high mountain. You who bring good news to Jerusalem, lift up your voice with a shout, lift it up, do not be afraid; say to the towns of Judah, "Here is your God!" See, the Sovereign Lord comes with power, and he rules with a mighty arm. See, his reward is with him, and his recompense accompanies him. He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young. (Isaiah 40:1-2, 9-11)
In the opening verses of these beautiful and familiar words from Isaiah 40, we hear that the Israelites' exile was directly related to the presence of sin in their lives and in the life of their nation. Not only was their hard service completed, but their "sin had been paid for."
Fine for the Bible to say so, but when we or someone else associates the word "sin" with our own losses and griefs, we start to cringe. It's indelicate, insensitive, and not always a shoe that properly fits the story—which is certainly true. But it is also true that unless we associate the losses and griefs of our lives on some level with sin—we can't really hear these words of comfort from Isaiah as words that are addressed to us, either.
In some sense that's what Advent is about—meeting the harder, more difficult and painful truths of who we are and how our world is so that we can honestly receive the comfort of our God through the Saving work of His Son. Because Jesus was not born into a world that was happily at peace, or a world that was whole. He was born into a sin-broken world full of loss, where nothing was as it was supposed to be.
There was pain, injustice, oppression, addiction, disease, estrangement and more. And that was true, because there was sin. The sin of one person against another. Or the sin of one person that unintentionally affected another. Or the sin without any real discernable origin at all that continues to ricochet down the halls of history affecting everyone.
That's still world we live in. It is sin-broken. The drinking, the adulteries, the injustices, the lies, the shouts, the abuse, the mistakes, the theft, the shirked responsibilities—all of them together from all of humanity—ricocheting down the halls of history—bouncing into this person, knocking the legs out from under that one.
Whose fault is it? In some cases, mine. In other cases, yours. But in other cases, it's simply ours, as sin-broken people in a sin-broken world—our inheritance from our mothers and fathers before us. A place where awful things like death, pain, loneliness, and other forms of tragedy live.
All this to say: it's too big for us to handle on our own. We need a Saviour to rescue us from this mess. We need a Shepherd to gather us up to his heart and bring comfort, healing, and peace when our world falls apart. We need, in other words, to see our God—this God of the sin-afflicted—like us—who acts to save and who speaks tenderly to comfort. For surely, he is our God, and he is with us.
The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom…they will see the glory of the Lord…And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness; it will be for those who walk on that Way. The unclean will not journey on it; wicked fools will not go about on it. No lion will be there, nor any ravenous beast; they will not be found there. But only the redeemed will walk there, and those the Lord has rescued will return. They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away (Isaiah 35:1,2,8-10).
"You transplanted a vine from Egypt; you drove out the nations and planted it. You cleared the ground for it, and it took root and filled the land. The mountains were covered with its shade, the mighty cedars with its branches. Its branches reached as far as the Sea, its shoots as far as the River" (Psalm 80:9-10).
So sings the psalmist attempting to capture God's relationship with Israel. This is no legal contract but a dance of lovers. However, the beloved perpetually dances away to find other partners. Yet, God pursues Israel to win her back, lavishing her with gifts, causing her to flourish.
As she flourishes, Israel is to be generous, passing on the gifts of God. She is to "act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with [her] God" (Micah 6:8). Yet she rarely does. In exasperation God asks, "When I looked for good grapes, why did it yield only bad?" (Isaiah 5:4). Isaiah is comparing Israel to a vineyard that God has lovingly and tenderly planted and cared for. He concludes, God "looked for justice, but saw bloodshed; for righteousness, but heard cries of distress" (5:7).
Because of her propensity to go after other lovers, God determines to use those same lovers to strip her bare. They will ruin and plunder her and carry her into exile. The vineyard will become a wasteland, a wilderness. She will be dry, harsh, and dangerous. Travellers will go around her rather than face her hostile conditions.
Yet, God will not abandon her. Instead, he will punish these so-called lovers for going too far, for taking a perverted joy in plundering and demeaning Israel, God's beloved. As they laid Israel waste, he will lay them waste. This is where our text picks up the story. Both Israel and her lovers, turned enemies, have been laid waste. What hope is left?
Now Isaiah pictures the desert bursting into bloom. God has once more come to the aid of his people, his beloved to deliver her, to restore her (5:4). Israel is pictured returning to Zion, the city in which God dwells with his people. As she travels, the desert returns to life, discouraged people are lifted and the broken are healed. They will all see the glory of the Lord.
Judah was heading towards exile. They needed a word of hope to sustain them, so they would not give in to despair. As a TV character recently said, "Hope is never mere, even if it is meager." To bolster Israel's meager hope, God offers this vision. And John echoes it when he writes, "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth" (John 1:14).
As we trace Jesus' ministry on earth, we see elements of Isaiah's vision fulfilled: the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, the hungry are fed. The wilderness blooms. Yet, when we look around at our world, it seems more desert like than a flourishing vineyard. When our hope flags, we need to return to Isaiah 35, to remember that hope is never mere. As God promised to redeem Israel from exile, Jesus promised that he would return. And even as he tarries, the Holy Spirit whispers in our hearts, "All will be well."
An extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Luke 1:26-38 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
In that day you will say: "I will praise you, Lord. Although you were angry with me, your anger has turned away and you have comforted me. Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord himself, is my strength and my defense; he has become my salvation." With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation. In that day you will say: "Give praise to the Lord, proclaim his name; make known among the nations what he has done, and proclaim that his name is exalted. Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things; let this be known to all the world. Shout aloud and sing for joy, people of Zion, for great is the Holy One of Israel among you." (Isaiah 12)
This short chapter follows on the heels of our devotion yesterday from Isaiah 11. Death must come first. It always comes first. Before there is Easter, there is Good Friday. But in God's story: new life always follows death. And so it is here: after death and exile comes new life and the songs of the redeemed. Isaiah 11 describes the reality that will come as new life is born from the stump of Jessee, Isaiah 12 describes the response of the redeemed to the new life they've been given.
Anger turns to comfort. Fear turns to trust. Weakness becomes strength in the Lord. The thirsty drink afresh from the well of salvation. Once again God's people are reminded that their God is among them and that he is the one who gives the things that really matter in our lives, the things that we cannot get for ourselves.
How hard it is to see hope in the pit of despair. How hard it is to find comfort in the throes of fear. Who can sing a song of joy in the dark valley of death? And yet it seems that it is always in just these places—when we are spent, exhausted, deflated, discouraged, at the end of our strength, faith, and hope—that we discover that the only thing that we truly need is the thing that we've had all along: our God. He meets us there in the dark valleys of our lives, reminding us that he is "among us." And not only that, but that he is also still saving us, still giving us new life, new purpose, new callings to step into where we might live the resurrection life of his salvation more fully for the sake of the world.
And that is why we sing. We sing because he has done great and glorious things for us. We sing because his name needs to be shouted out and shouted up—exalted to the highest place where it belongs. We sing because all the world needs to hear—not just our apologetics and our teachings, but our songs of salvation! They need to hear a good word of great joy that is for all the people, a word worth heralding out with the angels of Bethlehem. It is not always the "believing" bits that catch people's wonder and draws them near—it is more often the "beholding" bits where we are caught up short in wonder and awe—where we are unable to articulate anything of response but a shout and a song.
It's moments like this: Behold, the virgin shall be with child… (Mt. 1:23) Behold, the heavens were opened to Him, and He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove… (Mt. 3:16) Behold! My Servant whom I have chosen… (Mt. 12:18) Behold, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners. (Mt. 26:45) And on the day of resurrection: "Behold, Jesus met them, saying, 'Rejoice!'" (Mt. 28:9 – all from NKJV)
Rejoice indeed. What is the song of salvation that you've been given to sing?
A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him…They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea (Isaiah 11:1,2,9).
Imagine a large swath of land that once was forest. All that remains are stumps. Such is the image that Isaiah now paints for the people of Israel. The ten northern tribes have been carted off to Assyria and the Babylonian threat is on the horizon. Nebuchadnezzar is coming for Judah.
If he comes, he will carry away the royal family, David's descendants. That is what conquering kings did; removed the threat of anyone restoring the royal line. If this happen, what of God's promise to David that his descendant's would always reign over Israel? The faithful in Israel are afraid.
And so, Isaiah paints the picture, "A shoot from the stump of Jesse;" Jesse being David's father. This family will be carried off to exile, leaving a dead stump. But out of that stump new life will grow, a shoot. Isn't that just God's way? Abraham and Sarah, old, wrinkled, childless. Hannah, weeping as if drunk. Jonah in the belly of a big fish. Mary, the unwed pregnant teenager. Who will believe her story? Jesus, lying dead in a tomb. All dead stumps. All shooting new life.
There is a deeper story here. Judah's coming exile will be God's judgement because she persisted in her disobedience. This divine judgement is not vindictive but follows a long patient path of redemption, of restoration, of return. Out of the ashes life will bloom again.
It is the persistent image of the Christian spiritual life. "Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies... (John 12:14). In baptism, we are buried with Christ into his death (Romans 6:14). Only if we lose our life for Christ can we find it (Matthew 10:39). Death precedes life.
Some 600 years later, a king is born from Jesse's long-dormant stump (Mary & Joseph, both David's descendants). Born only to die. Born to bare the curse of sin for us. Exiled into the darkness of the tomb. Christ redeemed us from the curse… by becoming a curse for us…He redeemed us in order that the blessing given to Abraham might come to the Gentiles through Christ Jesus, so that by faith we might receive the promise of the Spirit (Galatians 3:13,14).
Isaiah laid out this element of Jesus coming. "The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him." Four times, Isaiah names the Spirit and what he will bring, wisdom and understanding, counsel and might, knowledge and the fear of the Lord (11:2).
And what a vision Isaiah offers for the world because of the Spirit of the Lord. He will bring justice for the poor and needy. He will slay the wicked. The wolf and the lamb, the leopard and the goat, the calf and the lion will all pasture together and be led by a child. Isaiah concludes, "They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea".
What a beautiful image. What delight that will be. But how little we see of it, even in the church.
Why? Is it because we will not follow the nudging of the Spirit? For life to sprout, we need to die. But we are unwilling. We hold onto our grudges, we refuse to forgive, we insist that we are right! Jesus said the Spirit will lead us into the truth. But we do not want to be led. We want to go our own way. The Spirit does not drag, only leads.
Will you follow? Will you die to yourself? Of what must you repent? What must you forgive? Jesus came to bring peace on earth. By way of death. His death, yes. But ours too, this is the way of the Spirit. Will you follow?
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder. For as in the day of Midian's defeat, you have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor. Every warrior's boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire. For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this. (Isaiah 9:2-7)
These may be some of the most familiar and beloved Advent verses from Isaiah. But before they had meaning connected with a coming Messiah, they had a message for the moment into which they were spoken.
We heard yesterday about Ahaz and the sign that was given to him of a baby, Immanuel, that would be born as evidence of the Lord's redemption from the threat of Aram and Israel. However, one verse further on from yesterday's text tells that Assyria would swiftly replace Aram and Israel as the rod of Judah's oppression. And so we find Ahaz to be a failed and unfaithful king: his reign characterized by an ever-growing darkness in terms both of the socio-political reality and his neglect and outright assault on the worship of the Lord in the land. You can find that story in 2 Kings 16.
The promise of this text from Isaiah 9 is a ray of light that shines out in this gathering darkness. It is a promise of peace. A promise of a child to be born. In context, it may mean simply Ahaz's son, Hezekiah. A king in the line of David of whom it was said that "no one [was] like him among all the kings of Judah, either before him or after him" (2 Kings 18:5).
And yet, we know that after Hezekiah, Judah would eventually be swallowed by war and exile to Babylon. The book of Isaiah goes on to tell us all this. The darkness falls again. So in the larger context of Isaiah—this prophecy also rings out in a broader sense. Into the darkness of exile, a great light will dawn. The people will return to their land under the leadership of Ezra and Nehemiah—and so this prophecy would be fulfilled again.
But of course, even after the return from exile, darkness remained. The full promise of the dawning light of the everlasting kingdom of the Prince of Peace had not yet come. And so faithful Jews began to see in the words of this prophecy something more: the promise of a Messiah—the promise of peace from war, freedom from oppression, and of an everlasting Kingdom established by God himself where all would be set right and all made new.
As Christians, we see the birth of Jesus as the dawning of just this kingdom of light. For to us, this child has been born. And yet the darkness is not yet fully driven out of our days either, is it? And so, together with all those who have gone before us, we continue to wait in longing for that day when Jesus comes again and this prophecy is fulfilled fully and finally.
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