This sermon was preached at Glenwood and Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa on December 1, 2019. For those following the lectionary, you’ll notice this sermon is actually based on the Advent 2 texts: Isaiah 11:1-10 and Matthew 3:1-12. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson.
Isaiah 11:1-10
1A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.
2The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. 3His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; 4but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. 5Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins.
6The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.7The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. 8The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. 9They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. 10On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.
Matthew 3:1-12
1In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 2“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 3This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’ ”
4Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. 5Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, 6and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.
7But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8Bear fruit worthy of repentance. 9Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 10Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.
11“I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”
How are you?
How are you really?
How is your body? Your mind? Your spirit?
When you look at your life these days, what do you see? What do you hear?
Is the joy tinged with grief? Is the grief illumined by joy? Is the weariness cured by a good night’s rest or is it deeper and more difficult to tend?
What do you need?
Advent is a season for truth telling. It’s a season that asks How are you? and refuses to let you leave with a hurried fine. Advent looks you in the eye, reaches out to touch your shoulder, pulls you in for a strong hug when your eyes begin to brim over with tears. Advent sits with you in the silence as you struggle to express your deepest yearnings, your most peace-stealing fears.
And on those days when the white lights of the Christmas tree bring a gentle joy, the laughter of the children is contagious, a word from a friend sparks the hope within you into a fire warm enough for the coldest days…then Advent rejoices with you, invites you to see and to hear even more signs of God’s love for you, assures you that yes, this is God’s dream for the world, this is the way life is intended to be, this is the way life will be…peaceful, joyful, abounding in hope.
The wolf shall live with the lamb, Advent promises, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.
For us today it might be less surprising to see a wolf live with a lamb than to see elected officials work together for the common good and divided Christians cease their infighting.
It might be less surprising to see the leopard lie down with the kid than to see our messed up families get along.
We need this shoot to come out from the stump of Jesse, abundant life to emerge once more from the very place where it was cut down. We need to see that death and destruction is never the end—in the dream of God, in the realm of God in which we live, a stump is a thing of promise, a new beginning, the perfect place for God to work.
Advent asks Where are the stumps in your life and in the life of the world? What has been cut down? Removed? Destroyed? Broken? Look closely, Advent whispers. Those are the places where God is at work. Those are the situations where new life will emerge. Watch. Wait. Trust. Believe.
Jesus is coming, Advent proclaims. Jesus is coming.
There’s a Carrie Newcomer song that comes to mind. She sings: From the muddy ground comes a green volunteer. In a place we thought barren new life appears. Morning will come whistling some comforting tune, for you. You can do this hard thing.1
The color of Advent is the color of the night sky just before the dawn, that blue that signals the night is ending and morning is coming. Jesus is coming. Morning is coming whistling a comforting tune for you.
It’s the song of the angels: Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom God favors.
It’s the song of Mary: God has brought the powerful down from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.
It’s the song of Zechariah: By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.
It’s even the song of John—the biting song that ultimately brings comfort by way of conviction: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.
By now I’m accustomed to John’s colorful song. What still surprises me is how people flocked to hear him. Maybe when we’re in the wilderness of stress and sorrow we can finally welcome the truth-tellers. We can see that we need to turn around. We welcome the call to repentance because we know that our lives need to change.
In the wilderness of our lives, we need a call to repentance and the burning of up all the chaff to which we cling so stubbornly. We need Jesus.
Jesus is coming to clear the threshing floor that is this world. All the fear, injustice, violence and disease that keep this world from abundant life will be burned. Jesus himself will tend to the fire, and he will not let the wheat be swallowed up by the flames; he will not let you be destroyed by his judgment. Jesus comes, not to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
Morning is coming, whistling a comforting tune for you. A new day is dawning. The promise of new possibilities is not a commercial jingle touting salvation through spending. The promise of new possibilities is grounded in the Word of God made flesh, the Word of God embodied and alive within you and beside you. Jesus is coming and is already here in the assurance of forgiveness, in the peace we share, in the bread and wine that makes us full with love, and hope, and joy.
Advent climbs into the balcony and sings for all the world to hear, sings for you to hear: Whatever you need, is here. Your heart is Christ’s home. The world is filled with love. Won’t you join the song?
Amen.