Of beginnings and endings
Commentary
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We remember the sweet, simple pattern of our childhood stories. "Once upon a time" was the standard starting place, and "they lived happily ever after" was the desired conclusion. That is the standard fare in a children's story, though it is not necessarily a childish thing. On the contrary, I suspect that it reflects a fundamental human instinct for the way things ought to be, as well as an innate longing for everything to work out all right.
As adults, of course, we readily recognize that not all endings are so happy and promising. I remember seeing several classic movies when I was a kid -- Cleopatra, Gone with the Wind, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Camelot, for example -- that did not have such bright, fairy tale endings. In each case, the greater beauty or promise or pageantry came near the beginning, while the ends were all rather desperate.
The real loveliness of the classic fairy tale ending, of course, is that it is not really an ending at all. Rather, it is an assurance that the story goes on. And, more than that, the untold part of the story promises to be an improvement on the part that was told. After all of the difficulties that we have seen the characters endure, we are promised that the remainder of the road for them will be bright and happy.
When the viewer comes to the end of "Butch Cassidy," there's no question that it's the end. The two main characters are hopelessly surrounded, and the movie ends with such a barrage of gunfire that you know there is no more story to tell. Likewise, by the end of Cleopatra, Caesar, Cleopatra, and Mark Antony have all died, and died ignominiously, at that. And the beauty that was Camelot or the Old South have been wrecked by division and bloodshed.
When the reader comes to the end of the Bible, however -- or, more to the point, when the Bible speaks of the end -- it does not read like an ending. A climax, yes; but not an ending. On the contrary, we are given a glimpse of a whole new beginning.
The story of Noah is not assigned to us for this week, yet it deserves a passing reference, for it gives us perhaps our first glimpse into this lovely truth about our God. On the one hand, we recognize the Noah episode as an instance of global divine judgment. On the other hand, we do not recall the occasion with horror, for we see the rainbow, we envision the people and animals emerging from the ark, and we hear the instruction for all living creatures to go forth, be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth. What begins as a story of judgment, therefore, has the look and feel of a fresh start.
Such is the nature of God's work and God's will. Even a story that seems, in so many ways, to mark an ending proves instead to be a new beginning.
Surely this is also the spirit of our three assigned passages combined.
Isaiah 65:17-25
One of the remarkable traits of the book of the prophet Isaiah is how comprehensive it is. Unlike the books of Joel or Jonah, Isaiah features a mixture of both the prophet's message and the prophet's story. His corrective message features both spiritual and social dimensions. His proclamation includes judgment and hope. His target audiences include the covenant people and the nations. And his time line runs all the way from his contemporary present to the near-future judgment; then to the restoration and return following that judgment, and all the way out to the coming of the Messiah and the fulfillment of the kingdom of God.
If you could only have one book of the Bible for the rest of your life, Isaiah would be a good choice, for Isaiah has it all.
Our selected passage for this week comes from near the end of the book, and it reflects Isaiah's message about the end of the age. If you read the passage without reference or introduction, many folks would assume that you were reading from the end of Revelation. That partly reflects the scope of Isaiah's message. It also reflects the beginning-to-end consistency of God's purpose and plan, for what he creates in Eden, promises in Isaiah, and reveals in Revelation are all in perfect harmony with one another.
That God is "about to create new heavens and a new earth" reflects his preference for redemption. He does not abandon what is broken; he recreates it. He does not scrap his plan when it goes wrong; he renews it. This shouldn't surprise us, of course, because it is simply the story of our own individual salvation and redemption played out on a universal scale.
Interestingly, Jerusalem is central to this perfect redemption. There is no other geographical location on earth that enjoys such a favorable place in God's plan. We are fond of Galilee from what we read in the gospel accounts; yet there is no eschatological promise of a new Galilee. Hebron and Bethel were important to the patriarchs. Sinai was the place of theophany and law. Bethlehem was both "the city of David" and the birthplace of Christ. Yet none of these ranks with Jerusalem.
As the Lord endeavors to describe the perfect place and plan he has in store, he naturally turns to comparisons. He has to begin with what we know, and all we know is the sin-corrupted world with its mixed-bag experiences. And so God spells out how his recreated Jerusalem and his holy mountain will differ from our current experience. There will be no more "weeping… or the cry of distress"; no more premature deaths; no more frustrating or fruitless labor. Even nature itself will be freed from its fallen animosities.
In the gospels, we are accustomed to talk of "the kingdom of God." There is no explicit reference to his kingdom in this Old Testament passage, but clearly the unrivaled reign of God is anticipated here. All the opposition to God's will, it seems, has been either defeated or redeemed, and so we see how it is all really meant to be.
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
One of the hallmarks of the Thessalonian correspondence is the church's concern for the second coming of Christ. To their credit, his return was on their minds. That makes them a good deal more commendable than many of us and our people, for we have become so preoccupied with this present life and world that we've given up "watching and waiting, looking above." On the other hand, there was enough confusion surrounding the subject of Christ's return in Thessalonica that Paul had to devote a number of paragraphs to correcting it.
The subject of Christ's return is not the immediate concern of this selected passage from 2 Thessalonians, but it is part of the context. Evidently, the prospect of his parousia -- which they presumed would be any day now -- had had a stultifying effect on their daily lives. Specifically, there were believers within that congregation who were "living in idleness," presumably because of Christ's imminent return.
Perhaps you've been in an individual conversation or group discussion in which the question was posed, "What would you do with your remaining days if you knew that you only had six months to live?" For many of us, our instinct would be to set aside many of the things that characterize ordinary daily life in order to focus our time and attention on those things -- and people -- most precious and important to us. It was perhaps in that spirit, then, that some in Thessalonica had given up the mundane matters of daily chores and work, thinking that such things were trivial and unnecessary during the last days.
A football team that has a commanding lead and the ball in the final minute or two of a game will assume what we sometimes call "the victory formation." Unlike the more complex formations from which the usual assortment of offensive plays are run, "the victory formation" is a simple, protective line-up designed for the quarterback to merely kneel down and run out the clock. The teams give up the regular business of intense blocking and tackling when the end is near. Similarly, the Thessalonians had given up the regular businesses of their lives because they perceived that the end was near.
They were, of course, entirely wrong. Not only were they wrong about the timing of Christ's return -- for which they should be excused -- but they were also wrong about the posture they should adopt in preparation for his second coming. The prospect of the master's return, after all, is meant to inspire work and productivity, not laziness, inactivity, and self-indulgence (e.g., Matthew 24:45-51).
In contrast to the indolent Christians in Thessalonica, Paul pointed to the example that he and his companions had set for the believers there. There was no need to speak hypothetically about how a Christian ought to live: They had seen it with their own eyes. (Would that all of our congregations could be instructed so simply and so visibly!)
Paul and company had demonstrated -- by their own industry, prudence, and discipline -- the look of the "faithful and wise servant." They had set an example, and the Christians in Thessalonica were expected to follow that example. We observe that this was no idle scolding or toothless correction, for "anyone unwilling to work should not eat." If conscience, mind, or heart would not spur on the idle, perhaps their stomachs would!
Luke 21:5-18
It's a thankless task to be the killjoy. It is no fun to be the sober voice amidst giddiness, to be the lone voice of sanity when everyone around you has lost perspective.
The parent has to play this role routinely. The child or adolescent gets a plan in his head: a plan filled with excitement and ambition, but often lacking the necessary ingredients of realism, calculation, and forethought.
The Old Testament prophets were called on by God again and again to perform this thankless task. While everyone else confidently predicted victory, Micaiah spoke the unwelcome word of defeat (1 Kings 22:13-18). When all else were assuring, "Peace! Peace!" Jeremiah had to warn of war. And Isaiah and Amos interrupted the people who were going through their self-satisfied religious motions to speak a startlingly contrary word (Isaiah 1:11-17; Amos 5:21-24).
So, too, here in the shadow of the temple. The people are unanimously admiring the beauty of the edifice when suddenly Jesus sounds the sour note. "The days will come," he warns, "when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down."
Nobody wants to hear that. You don't predict a divorce in the midst of the wedding reception. You don't talk of SIDS at the baby's baptism. Yet Jesus speaks the unsolicited and unwelcome prophetic word, predicting the destruction of the very landmark the people were admiring.
Naturally, the surprised hearers want to know more details. "When will this be…?" And Jesus responds with talk of false messiahs.
At first blush, his remarks must have seemed quite incomprehensible. He was right there among them, visible and recognizable. What, then, was the hazard of others coming and saying, "I am he!"? Yet Jesus knew that much time and space would come and go between that conversation and the fulfillment of his prophecies.
Beyond the comparatively narrow stage of the temple confines in Jerusalem, Jesus then speaks of widespread international conflicts -- nations and kingdoms, wars and insurrections. And the calamities go beyond even the course of human events. The earth itself will quake, famines and plagues will abound, and even the heavens will give rise to "dreadful portents and great signs."
This last detail is a particularly helpful corrective for many believers to hear. We can easily become so fixated on human events and international headlines that we may think the eschaton is in our hands. Far from it. The kings of the earth can wage their ambitious campaigns, but they cannot shake the earth or move the stars. The signs of these times may be within our observing, but they are not within our control.
Interestingly, while human beings may be dwarfed by the events Jesus describes, the followers of Jesus are not irrelevant to the proceedings. On the contrary, "before all this occurs," Jesus says that his disciples will be arrested, persecuted, tried, and imprisoned. Yet, just as they were not to be frightened by the news of "wars and insurrections," neither were they to feel unnerved by their own trials, "for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict."
And the end-time events, which encompass such broad-brush details as nations, kingdoms, and portents in the sky, also include the most personal matter of our family relationships. "You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers," Jesus warns, and "by relatives and friends." The conflict that will engulf the globe, and the tumult that will fill the skies, will evidently shake and divide each home, as well.
When it's all said and done, it turns out that the destruction of the temple is just a small detail. But when it's really all said and done, the calamities will pass, and God's perfect reign will bring beauty and peace. More on that below.
Application
Historical criticism would assign a particular chronological order to this week's three passages based on likely authorship and probable date of writing. Isaiah comes first, of course, though the exact date of writing would be a matter of some debate. The episode recorded in Luke surely precedes Paul's relationship with the Thessalonians; yet most New Testament scholars would insist that the epistle was written before Luke's gospel.
The preacher, meanwhile, has a different way of ordering the texts -- a more hermeneutical approach to chronology. First, we observe that none of the texts is limited to its time of writing. All three writers -- or speakers, as the case may be -- are looking beyond the scope of their own moment in time. They all point to the end. Yet, even while all three texts are eschatological in nature, they reflect somewhat different stages of the end times. And in this case, the last passage written is the first to be considered.
The teaching of Jesus recorded in Luke seems to reflect the beginning of the end. The Lord describes to his followers the sort of events that will characterize the world leading up to the final days and the culmination of all things.
Among the Thessalonian recipients of Paul's letter, meanwhile, the feeling prevailed that that time had already come. Indeed, it seems that some believers there felt such a strong conviction that Christ's return was imminent that they had exempted themselves from some of the routine obligations and responsibilities of daily life.
It is the earliest of the three texts, however, that looks to the latest time. Our Old Testament lection comes from near the end of the book of Isaiah, which has such a broad scope that it ranges from the specific sins of the immediate generation in eighth-century BC Jerusalem to the perfect plan of God in the ultimate messianic future. Our selected passage comes from that far end of Isaiah's time line as the prophet looks to the far future. The end of this present age, as either Jesus or Paul might call it (Mark 10:30; Titus 2:12), is what Isaiah has in sight, and there he finds a whole new order. The perfect creation of God, which had been so marred by sin and so disappointed by humankind, is going to be restored to its peaceful and harmonious beauty. Camelot is restored and without the faulty ingredients. Paradise is regained. The end is a new beginning.
Alternative Application
Isaiah 65:17-25. "Your Perfect Picture." Sometimes when I am counseling someone, I will try to help them clarify their feelings by asking them, "What's your perfect picture? If you could make anything at all happen in this circumstance, what would it be?"
To know someone's perfect picture is to get a peek into their heart. My description of my ideal will reveal what things are most important to me and what I value most. One person's perfect picture will be all about relationships, another's might be characterized by material comforts and luxuries, while another's could put the emphasis on pleasures and appetites.
In our selection from the end of Isaiah, we are privileged to get a glimpse of God's perfect picture. As an important result, we are offered a peek into his heart. And in that privileged glimpse we see what he wants things to look like when he makes everything right.
That God wants everything to be just right, of course, is a central theme through all of scripture. Indeed, it is a kind of first principle upon which all else stands. We see his perfect will at work at the beginning (creation, especially Eden) and at the end (the new heaven, new earth, and new Jerusalem). In between, we see that same good will revealed in his laws about purity, in his prophetic messages about justice, in Jesus' ethical teachings about kingdom living, and in the apostles' instructions for godliness and harmony in the churches.
In this passage from late in Isaiah, God gives us a peek into the package that will not be fully opened until the end of time. There inside we see a place characterized by "delight" and "joy." It is a place free of all suffering and injustice. In a lovely reverse of Adam's curse (Genesis 3:17-19), the people there "shall not labor in vain," but "shall long enjoy the work of their hands." Also echoing the tragedy of Eden, the serpent will be relegated to the dust. Meanwhile, God's blessings will be there in abundance, and the place will be marked by harmlessness and enduring peace. This peace is no mere truce, like mortal enemies kept apart by strong leashes. Rather, this will be the only sort of peace that can endure: a peace born of redemption, as adversaries on this world's fallen food chain feed side-by-side on God's "holy mountain."
To know someone's perfect picture is to get a peek into their heart. And thanks to the prophet Isaiah, we are given a lovely peek into the perfect will of God and thus into his good and generous heart.
Preaching the Psalm
Schuyler Rhodes
Isaiah 12
This passage from Isaiah paints a beautiful picture of God. It is the portrait of a deity in transition; a God who moves from anger and judgment to compassion and comfort. This is no small movement, either in human beings or in the divine.
Many people have felt the burn of righteous anger as they navigated the shoals of life. It happens to everyone. Sooner or later someone betrays or wounds. As life unfolds there are myriad causes for righteous anger and judgment. The wife who steps out on the husband with another man well deserves the anger of the husband. The person who is cheated by unscrupulous businessmen has ample reason for righteous anger. There is no real end to the list of justifiable causes for anger. From war to poverty to individual hurt and back again, every person has reason for anger. If we look at the state of human reality, we can easily see that God also has ample reason for anger.
The trick we see worked out in Isaiah 12 is the way God somehow moves out of anger and into compassion. It's not as though human beings suddenly became good. No. As a race we continue to assert our ability to be evil and incorrigible. Somehow, though, God moves through anger to forgiveness and becomes a comforter.
This is the process to which we are called as well. Regardless of the many good reasons for anger, the call comes to us to release our anger and to step into compassion. No matter how deep the wound or how outrageous the wrong, God calls us to step into the role of comforter and healer. Is this easy? No. It will take warrior-like discipline and an unimaginable persistence. And perhaps the most difficult piece is that people will continue to be, well, people. There will be insults and arguments, hurt and harm. There will be arrogance and chicanery, foolishness and folly, and in the thick of it all we are to let go of our anger.
This holy practice of releasing anger is the foundation stone of Christian community. It is the self-same forgiveness that comes to us through the cross of Jesus Christ, and it is a divine calling. Like the portrait of God in Isaiah 12, let us move from our righteous anger to the divine posture of comforter and healer. Let us blaze the path of hope and forgiveness as we step into a new day together.
We remember the sweet, simple pattern of our childhood stories. "Once upon a time" was the standard starting place, and "they lived happily ever after" was the desired conclusion. That is the standard fare in a children's story, though it is not necessarily a childish thing. On the contrary, I suspect that it reflects a fundamental human instinct for the way things ought to be, as well as an innate longing for everything to work out all right.
As adults, of course, we readily recognize that not all endings are so happy and promising. I remember seeing several classic movies when I was a kid -- Cleopatra, Gone with the Wind, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Camelot, for example -- that did not have such bright, fairy tale endings. In each case, the greater beauty or promise or pageantry came near the beginning, while the ends were all rather desperate.
The real loveliness of the classic fairy tale ending, of course, is that it is not really an ending at all. Rather, it is an assurance that the story goes on. And, more than that, the untold part of the story promises to be an improvement on the part that was told. After all of the difficulties that we have seen the characters endure, we are promised that the remainder of the road for them will be bright and happy.
When the viewer comes to the end of "Butch Cassidy," there's no question that it's the end. The two main characters are hopelessly surrounded, and the movie ends with such a barrage of gunfire that you know there is no more story to tell. Likewise, by the end of Cleopatra, Caesar, Cleopatra, and Mark Antony have all died, and died ignominiously, at that. And the beauty that was Camelot or the Old South have been wrecked by division and bloodshed.
When the reader comes to the end of the Bible, however -- or, more to the point, when the Bible speaks of the end -- it does not read like an ending. A climax, yes; but not an ending. On the contrary, we are given a glimpse of a whole new beginning.
The story of Noah is not assigned to us for this week, yet it deserves a passing reference, for it gives us perhaps our first glimpse into this lovely truth about our God. On the one hand, we recognize the Noah episode as an instance of global divine judgment. On the other hand, we do not recall the occasion with horror, for we see the rainbow, we envision the people and animals emerging from the ark, and we hear the instruction for all living creatures to go forth, be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth. What begins as a story of judgment, therefore, has the look and feel of a fresh start.
Such is the nature of God's work and God's will. Even a story that seems, in so many ways, to mark an ending proves instead to be a new beginning.
Surely this is also the spirit of our three assigned passages combined.
Isaiah 65:17-25
One of the remarkable traits of the book of the prophet Isaiah is how comprehensive it is. Unlike the books of Joel or Jonah, Isaiah features a mixture of both the prophet's message and the prophet's story. His corrective message features both spiritual and social dimensions. His proclamation includes judgment and hope. His target audiences include the covenant people and the nations. And his time line runs all the way from his contemporary present to the near-future judgment; then to the restoration and return following that judgment, and all the way out to the coming of the Messiah and the fulfillment of the kingdom of God.
If you could only have one book of the Bible for the rest of your life, Isaiah would be a good choice, for Isaiah has it all.
Our selected passage for this week comes from near the end of the book, and it reflects Isaiah's message about the end of the age. If you read the passage without reference or introduction, many folks would assume that you were reading from the end of Revelation. That partly reflects the scope of Isaiah's message. It also reflects the beginning-to-end consistency of God's purpose and plan, for what he creates in Eden, promises in Isaiah, and reveals in Revelation are all in perfect harmony with one another.
That God is "about to create new heavens and a new earth" reflects his preference for redemption. He does not abandon what is broken; he recreates it. He does not scrap his plan when it goes wrong; he renews it. This shouldn't surprise us, of course, because it is simply the story of our own individual salvation and redemption played out on a universal scale.
Interestingly, Jerusalem is central to this perfect redemption. There is no other geographical location on earth that enjoys such a favorable place in God's plan. We are fond of Galilee from what we read in the gospel accounts; yet there is no eschatological promise of a new Galilee. Hebron and Bethel were important to the patriarchs. Sinai was the place of theophany and law. Bethlehem was both "the city of David" and the birthplace of Christ. Yet none of these ranks with Jerusalem.
As the Lord endeavors to describe the perfect place and plan he has in store, he naturally turns to comparisons. He has to begin with what we know, and all we know is the sin-corrupted world with its mixed-bag experiences. And so God spells out how his recreated Jerusalem and his holy mountain will differ from our current experience. There will be no more "weeping… or the cry of distress"; no more premature deaths; no more frustrating or fruitless labor. Even nature itself will be freed from its fallen animosities.
In the gospels, we are accustomed to talk of "the kingdom of God." There is no explicit reference to his kingdom in this Old Testament passage, but clearly the unrivaled reign of God is anticipated here. All the opposition to God's will, it seems, has been either defeated or redeemed, and so we see how it is all really meant to be.
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
One of the hallmarks of the Thessalonian correspondence is the church's concern for the second coming of Christ. To their credit, his return was on their minds. That makes them a good deal more commendable than many of us and our people, for we have become so preoccupied with this present life and world that we've given up "watching and waiting, looking above." On the other hand, there was enough confusion surrounding the subject of Christ's return in Thessalonica that Paul had to devote a number of paragraphs to correcting it.
The subject of Christ's return is not the immediate concern of this selected passage from 2 Thessalonians, but it is part of the context. Evidently, the prospect of his parousia -- which they presumed would be any day now -- had had a stultifying effect on their daily lives. Specifically, there were believers within that congregation who were "living in idleness," presumably because of Christ's imminent return.
Perhaps you've been in an individual conversation or group discussion in which the question was posed, "What would you do with your remaining days if you knew that you only had six months to live?" For many of us, our instinct would be to set aside many of the things that characterize ordinary daily life in order to focus our time and attention on those things -- and people -- most precious and important to us. It was perhaps in that spirit, then, that some in Thessalonica had given up the mundane matters of daily chores and work, thinking that such things were trivial and unnecessary during the last days.
A football team that has a commanding lead and the ball in the final minute or two of a game will assume what we sometimes call "the victory formation." Unlike the more complex formations from which the usual assortment of offensive plays are run, "the victory formation" is a simple, protective line-up designed for the quarterback to merely kneel down and run out the clock. The teams give up the regular business of intense blocking and tackling when the end is near. Similarly, the Thessalonians had given up the regular businesses of their lives because they perceived that the end was near.
They were, of course, entirely wrong. Not only were they wrong about the timing of Christ's return -- for which they should be excused -- but they were also wrong about the posture they should adopt in preparation for his second coming. The prospect of the master's return, after all, is meant to inspire work and productivity, not laziness, inactivity, and self-indulgence (e.g., Matthew 24:45-51).
In contrast to the indolent Christians in Thessalonica, Paul pointed to the example that he and his companions had set for the believers there. There was no need to speak hypothetically about how a Christian ought to live: They had seen it with their own eyes. (Would that all of our congregations could be instructed so simply and so visibly!)
Paul and company had demonstrated -- by their own industry, prudence, and discipline -- the look of the "faithful and wise servant." They had set an example, and the Christians in Thessalonica were expected to follow that example. We observe that this was no idle scolding or toothless correction, for "anyone unwilling to work should not eat." If conscience, mind, or heart would not spur on the idle, perhaps their stomachs would!
Luke 21:5-18
It's a thankless task to be the killjoy. It is no fun to be the sober voice amidst giddiness, to be the lone voice of sanity when everyone around you has lost perspective.
The parent has to play this role routinely. The child or adolescent gets a plan in his head: a plan filled with excitement and ambition, but often lacking the necessary ingredients of realism, calculation, and forethought.
The Old Testament prophets were called on by God again and again to perform this thankless task. While everyone else confidently predicted victory, Micaiah spoke the unwelcome word of defeat (1 Kings 22:13-18). When all else were assuring, "Peace! Peace!" Jeremiah had to warn of war. And Isaiah and Amos interrupted the people who were going through their self-satisfied religious motions to speak a startlingly contrary word (Isaiah 1:11-17; Amos 5:21-24).
So, too, here in the shadow of the temple. The people are unanimously admiring the beauty of the edifice when suddenly Jesus sounds the sour note. "The days will come," he warns, "when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down."
Nobody wants to hear that. You don't predict a divorce in the midst of the wedding reception. You don't talk of SIDS at the baby's baptism. Yet Jesus speaks the unsolicited and unwelcome prophetic word, predicting the destruction of the very landmark the people were admiring.
Naturally, the surprised hearers want to know more details. "When will this be…?" And Jesus responds with talk of false messiahs.
At first blush, his remarks must have seemed quite incomprehensible. He was right there among them, visible and recognizable. What, then, was the hazard of others coming and saying, "I am he!"? Yet Jesus knew that much time and space would come and go between that conversation and the fulfillment of his prophecies.
Beyond the comparatively narrow stage of the temple confines in Jerusalem, Jesus then speaks of widespread international conflicts -- nations and kingdoms, wars and insurrections. And the calamities go beyond even the course of human events. The earth itself will quake, famines and plagues will abound, and even the heavens will give rise to "dreadful portents and great signs."
This last detail is a particularly helpful corrective for many believers to hear. We can easily become so fixated on human events and international headlines that we may think the eschaton is in our hands. Far from it. The kings of the earth can wage their ambitious campaigns, but they cannot shake the earth or move the stars. The signs of these times may be within our observing, but they are not within our control.
Interestingly, while human beings may be dwarfed by the events Jesus describes, the followers of Jesus are not irrelevant to the proceedings. On the contrary, "before all this occurs," Jesus says that his disciples will be arrested, persecuted, tried, and imprisoned. Yet, just as they were not to be frightened by the news of "wars and insurrections," neither were they to feel unnerved by their own trials, "for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict."
And the end-time events, which encompass such broad-brush details as nations, kingdoms, and portents in the sky, also include the most personal matter of our family relationships. "You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers," Jesus warns, and "by relatives and friends." The conflict that will engulf the globe, and the tumult that will fill the skies, will evidently shake and divide each home, as well.
When it's all said and done, it turns out that the destruction of the temple is just a small detail. But when it's really all said and done, the calamities will pass, and God's perfect reign will bring beauty and peace. More on that below.
Application
Historical criticism would assign a particular chronological order to this week's three passages based on likely authorship and probable date of writing. Isaiah comes first, of course, though the exact date of writing would be a matter of some debate. The episode recorded in Luke surely precedes Paul's relationship with the Thessalonians; yet most New Testament scholars would insist that the epistle was written before Luke's gospel.
The preacher, meanwhile, has a different way of ordering the texts -- a more hermeneutical approach to chronology. First, we observe that none of the texts is limited to its time of writing. All three writers -- or speakers, as the case may be -- are looking beyond the scope of their own moment in time. They all point to the end. Yet, even while all three texts are eschatological in nature, they reflect somewhat different stages of the end times. And in this case, the last passage written is the first to be considered.
The teaching of Jesus recorded in Luke seems to reflect the beginning of the end. The Lord describes to his followers the sort of events that will characterize the world leading up to the final days and the culmination of all things.
Among the Thessalonian recipients of Paul's letter, meanwhile, the feeling prevailed that that time had already come. Indeed, it seems that some believers there felt such a strong conviction that Christ's return was imminent that they had exempted themselves from some of the routine obligations and responsibilities of daily life.
It is the earliest of the three texts, however, that looks to the latest time. Our Old Testament lection comes from near the end of the book of Isaiah, which has such a broad scope that it ranges from the specific sins of the immediate generation in eighth-century BC Jerusalem to the perfect plan of God in the ultimate messianic future. Our selected passage comes from that far end of Isaiah's time line as the prophet looks to the far future. The end of this present age, as either Jesus or Paul might call it (Mark 10:30; Titus 2:12), is what Isaiah has in sight, and there he finds a whole new order. The perfect creation of God, which had been so marred by sin and so disappointed by humankind, is going to be restored to its peaceful and harmonious beauty. Camelot is restored and without the faulty ingredients. Paradise is regained. The end is a new beginning.
Alternative Application
Isaiah 65:17-25. "Your Perfect Picture." Sometimes when I am counseling someone, I will try to help them clarify their feelings by asking them, "What's your perfect picture? If you could make anything at all happen in this circumstance, what would it be?"
To know someone's perfect picture is to get a peek into their heart. My description of my ideal will reveal what things are most important to me and what I value most. One person's perfect picture will be all about relationships, another's might be characterized by material comforts and luxuries, while another's could put the emphasis on pleasures and appetites.
In our selection from the end of Isaiah, we are privileged to get a glimpse of God's perfect picture. As an important result, we are offered a peek into his heart. And in that privileged glimpse we see what he wants things to look like when he makes everything right.
That God wants everything to be just right, of course, is a central theme through all of scripture. Indeed, it is a kind of first principle upon which all else stands. We see his perfect will at work at the beginning (creation, especially Eden) and at the end (the new heaven, new earth, and new Jerusalem). In between, we see that same good will revealed in his laws about purity, in his prophetic messages about justice, in Jesus' ethical teachings about kingdom living, and in the apostles' instructions for godliness and harmony in the churches.
In this passage from late in Isaiah, God gives us a peek into the package that will not be fully opened until the end of time. There inside we see a place characterized by "delight" and "joy." It is a place free of all suffering and injustice. In a lovely reverse of Adam's curse (Genesis 3:17-19), the people there "shall not labor in vain," but "shall long enjoy the work of their hands." Also echoing the tragedy of Eden, the serpent will be relegated to the dust. Meanwhile, God's blessings will be there in abundance, and the place will be marked by harmlessness and enduring peace. This peace is no mere truce, like mortal enemies kept apart by strong leashes. Rather, this will be the only sort of peace that can endure: a peace born of redemption, as adversaries on this world's fallen food chain feed side-by-side on God's "holy mountain."
To know someone's perfect picture is to get a peek into their heart. And thanks to the prophet Isaiah, we are given a lovely peek into the perfect will of God and thus into his good and generous heart.
Preaching the Psalm
Schuyler Rhodes
Isaiah 12
This passage from Isaiah paints a beautiful picture of God. It is the portrait of a deity in transition; a God who moves from anger and judgment to compassion and comfort. This is no small movement, either in human beings or in the divine.
Many people have felt the burn of righteous anger as they navigated the shoals of life. It happens to everyone. Sooner or later someone betrays or wounds. As life unfolds there are myriad causes for righteous anger and judgment. The wife who steps out on the husband with another man well deserves the anger of the husband. The person who is cheated by unscrupulous businessmen has ample reason for righteous anger. There is no real end to the list of justifiable causes for anger. From war to poverty to individual hurt and back again, every person has reason for anger. If we look at the state of human reality, we can easily see that God also has ample reason for anger.
The trick we see worked out in Isaiah 12 is the way God somehow moves out of anger and into compassion. It's not as though human beings suddenly became good. No. As a race we continue to assert our ability to be evil and incorrigible. Somehow, though, God moves through anger to forgiveness and becomes a comforter.
This is the process to which we are called as well. Regardless of the many good reasons for anger, the call comes to us to release our anger and to step into compassion. No matter how deep the wound or how outrageous the wrong, God calls us to step into the role of comforter and healer. Is this easy? No. It will take warrior-like discipline and an unimaginable persistence. And perhaps the most difficult piece is that people will continue to be, well, people. There will be insults and arguments, hurt and harm. There will be arrogance and chicanery, foolishness and folly, and in the thick of it all we are to let go of our anger.
This holy practice of releasing anger is the foundation stone of Christian community. It is the self-same forgiveness that comes to us through the cross of Jesus Christ, and it is a divine calling. Like the portrait of God in Isaiah 12, let us move from our righteous anger to the divine posture of comforter and healer. Let us blaze the path of hope and forgiveness as we step into a new day together.
