Celebration
Commentary
A prominent theme in today's lessons seems to be celebration of life. Marriage is used as a metaphor for life's goodness in both the first and third lessons. Without disparaging the single life, we may recall an observation of Jewish theologian Martin Buber: The first thing that God ever declared "not good" was "being alone" (see Genesis 2:18). The choice of marriage as a symbol for "the good life" is itself significant.
Isaiah 62:1-5
This passage comes from the oracles that modern scholars attribute to Third Isaiah. They are words written to the Babylonian exiles, promising restoration. They offer an image of God who affirms human joy and is delighted with it. Such words need to be heard in our culture, where more often God is perceived as one who seeks to suppress pleasure or even to punish those who pursue it.
The Lord is the speaker, and Jerusalem the addressee. The oracle begins with a promise that God will not rest until vindication and salvation are accomplished. Indeed, the first verse specifies what kind of divine activity will continue until this takes place: speaking. "I will not be silent," says the Lord, and we all know what the word of the Lord is able to accomplish (if you don't, see Isaiah 55:11). There is no dichotomy between God acting and speaking in the Bible. God acts by speaking, from Genesis 1 ("Let there be light") on.
The salvation that God gives becomes a beacon to others -- a shining light that cannot be hidden (compare Matthew 5:14). Even kings will be impressed by the glory of God's people. Calvin notes that such glory must be very impressive indeed, since kings "are not wont to note any glory save their own."
The implications of God's salvation are conveyed in the bestowal of a new name. In English, the names given in verse 4 may sound silly, but they are actual names in Hebrew. We meet an Azubah ("Forsaken") in 1 Kings 22:42 and a Hephzibah ("My Delight is in Her") in 2 Kings 21:1. We should assume that the Hebrew words for "Desolate" and "Married" were probably actual names also.
There is rich biblical tradition for name changes. Abram becomes Abraham, Jacob becomes Israel, Simon becomes Peter (N.B.: Saul does not become Paul -- those are simply Hebraic and Latinized forms of the same name). The most common situation by far for name changes, however, is the simple cultural convention of a bride adopting her husband's name in marriage. Though this is not always practiced in our modern society, it was universal in the biblical world. A woman's very identity was determined by the man she married. It was not an equal partnership. The man's identity did not alter significantly; the woman's did.
This text neither supports nor denounces such a social system. It merely uses the image as an analogy for understanding the dynamics of a relationship between humans and God. The Lord promises to marry Jerusalem -- to give the people not just a new name, but the Lord's own name. Their identity is thus permanently altered. The metaphor of marriage is also used in the New Testament, when the church is described as the bride of Christ (Matthew 9:15; Ephesians 5:25-33). The book of Revelation alludes to this text in its development of that theme (Revelation 21:2).
The image is powerful, but could be misconstrued in our day, when we at least try to make marriage a less patriarchal institution. God does not offer us a relationship similar to modern marriage. It is not to be a partnership of equals. When the Lord God gets married, there will be no hyphenating of surnames.
Still, there is a surprise here. God marries not out of pity but delight. God's motivation here is not simply a gracious concern to improve the fortunes of beleaguered Jerusalem. God's concern, in fact, is selfish -- and that should be quite flattering to any who identify with Jerusalem in this text. If we are right in that empathy, if Jerusalem is a metaphor here for all God's people, including us, then God is not just concerned for us, but delighted with us.
As such, this text goes way beyond most biblical passages that proclaim God's love. This text does not just assure us that God will keep on loving us no matter how unlovable we may be. This text insists that God loves us because we are lovely. God made us to be lovable and takes delight in us. God sees something in us that we might not always see in ourselves.
A faithful spouse is a good thing. An adoring spouse may be even better. We should be content, perhaps, if God were likened only to the first, but Isaiah likens God to the second also. What greater thrill can come to married persons than to have spouses who are proud of them, who brag about them to others? "A good wife is the crown of her husband," the Bible says (Proverbs 12:4a). Now God declares, "You shall be my crown of beauty" (v. 3). God is proud to have us.
1 Corinthians 12:1-11
This week and next we read Paul's discussion of spiritual gifts in 1 Corinthians 12. These are favorite texts of those involved in "charismatic renewal" movements, which seems ironic since the chapter was originally written to correct the errors and abuses of first-century charismatics. Perhaps for this reason, many churches today immediately identify charismatic gifts with the sort of problems that Paul tries to address here. Such identification easily leads to caricature, and caution can turn to resistance. Many in today's church give charismatic excess so wide a berth that they tumble into the ditch on the opposite side of Christ's narrow road.
The first three verses are very important for setting the context. The Corinthians know what it is to be pagans; they need to learn what it is to be spiritual. Paul's implication is that they don't really know this yet. As the letter continues, we discover that they are quite zealous for spiritual gifts, which is fine, but they are not spiritually mature people. Paul begins, then, by reminding them that they were once "enticed and led astray" by what they now realize to have been dumb idols. This memory should produce a little humility. In essence, he is saying, "If you admit you've gotten it wrong before, then please don't be so quick to assume you've got it right now."
The real test of spiritual maturity is submission to the lordship of Christ. It is unlikely that anyone was literally cursing Jesus at Corinthian worship services or that the Corinthians would be so dense as to need Paul to tell them that this was not of God (v. 3). Rather, the apostle resorts to hyperbole. The charismatics in the Corinthian church equate "spirit" with "ecstasy," that is, with visions, trances, glossolalia, and the like. So, Paul says: Imagine two persons at worship. One becomes quite animated, and in an apparently spirit-induced frenzy calls out, "Jesus be cursed!" The other, in a rather bland and ritualistic way, stands to recite the church's creed, "Jesus is Lord" (cf. Romans 10:9). Which of these, Paul wants to ask, is being moved by the Spirit of God?
The verses that follow deal with representative gifts. Attempts to explain what each gift is and how it differs from the others miss the point. God works in diverse and unpredictable ways. There is no thought here that anyone has any such gift as a permanent possession. Rather, at any time, the Spirit might activate such manifestations in the community. But spiritual maturity is determined by submission to Christ's lordship, which is ultimately demonstrated through the more excellent way of love (1 Corinthians 13:1).
I once sat in a rather typical mainline denominational church and listened to a preacher read a sermon titled "The Dangers of Enthusiasm." I could be wrong, but as I looked over the faces of the congregants that morning, I did not see anyone who appeared to be suffering from an excess of zeal. Many were in danger of nodding off and missing his warnings against snake handlers altogether. I'm not sure that anything he said was wrong; it just didn't seem like the sermon these people most needed to hear.
You know your congregation, I hope. Don't waste their time preaching against charismatic excesses if what they really need is to be awakened to unpredictable manifestations of the Spirit.
John 2:1-11
The theme of the Epiphany season is the manifestation of the glory of the Lord. At some times in church history, this text (rather than the Magi story) actually served as the Gospel for the Day of Epiphany itself. It reports Jesus' first miracle, the "first of his signs" through which "he revealed his glory and his disciples believed in him" (v. 11).
The notion of Jesus working signs to get people to believe in him may strike some Bible readers as odd. Elsewhere in the Bible (the Synoptic Gospels) Jesus refuses to work signs (Matthew 12:38-39). He calls those who seek signs "an evil and adulterous generation" (Matthew 16:4) and associates the working of signs with false prophets (24:24). But in John's Gospel, Jesus' miracles are repeatedly called signs (2:11, 23; 3:2; 4:54; 6:2, 14; 7:31; 9:16; 12:18; 20:30) and they are clearly intended to lead people to believe (10:38; 20:30-31). At the same time, John's Gospel also betrays some reservations regarding faith that is based on signs (4:48). Thus, this Gospel offers an ambiguous evaluation of miracles as an inducement to faith. On the one hand, people are encouraged to believe on account of the works that they see Jesus perform (9:16; 10:38). On the other hand, a special blessing is pronounced upon all "who have not seen and yet have come to believe" (20:29).
The point of referring to miracles as "signs" is that they reveal what God is like. What is rejected in the other Gospels is the idea that miracles may serve as "proofs" to authenticate one's ministry (see Mark 8:11-12). In John's Gospel, the miracles are not called signs because of what they prove but because of what they reveal. The changing of water into wine is not some show-off display of supernatural power intended to convince unbelievers that Jesus is God's agent. It is a "sign" because, for those who do believe Jesus is God's agent, this miracle may reveal what God is about. Jesus is acting as the Word of God made flesh (1:14), and the act of changing water into wine symbolizes the qualitative transformation that God can effect in people's lives.
Even without unraveling the specific meaning of this act, however, something basic about God is revealed through this and all of Jesus' miracles. His supernatural deeds are consistently intended to benefit others. He does not, for instance, curse his enemies or work "punishment miracles" that bring affliction upon others. Accounts of such activity by divine agents were common in the ancient world and even turn up occasionally in the Bible (2 Kings 2:23-25; Acts 13:8-12). But John presents Jesus as the one who has come to reveal God, and the first thing that Jesus reveals is that God loves the world and desires to bless and to save rather than to punish or condemn (John 3:16-17). God wants people to enjoy life, in all its petty detail. God is concerned about party guests not having enough wine to celebrate a wedding. God wants us to be happy.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Isaiah 62:1-5
For those who like to preach from all three lectionary texts, the stated readings for this Sunday could cause a preacher great perplexity. How on earth do they all fit together? The epistle lesson deals with the variety of gifts given by the Spirit to the church. The gospel lesson recounts Jesus' first "sign" at the wedding at Cana, when the water turned into wine became the symbol of his blood poured out for us all. Our Isaiah text concerns the eschatological future of Jerusalem. Other than the reference to a wedding in John and here in Isaiah, the texts seem to have nothing in common.
Actually all three texts can be used to speak of the church. Through years of tradition, the Christian Church has been identified with Jerusalem as the "Zion of God." "O Zion haste, thy mission high fulfilling," we sing. If we keep that traditional imagery, Isaiah 62:1-5 then may be used as a proclamation to the church, and the central thought of the passage is that the church will be given two new symbolic names: "Hephzibah," meaning "my (that is, God's) delight is in her," and "Beulah," meaning "Married" (that is, to the Lord. This is the passage from which we get the phrase "Beulah land").
God will give us new names, but like the peoples in the story of the Tower of Babel, we in the church have always tried to "make a name for ourselves" (Genesis 11:4). To be sure, we call ourselves evangelicals or liberals, Presbyterians or Baptists, Methodists or Episcopalians, and so forth. But beyond that, we have always been concerned with our image. We want our church to be known as a megachurch or as a socially active denomination in the U.S. And locally, we want others to acknowledge that we are the most successful church in town, or the friendliest. We point to our lively youth groups and our magnificent choirs, to the beauty of our sanctuary or to our historic past. We glorify our programs and our mission budget, all in the effort to show others that our congregation is pre-
eminent and surely the one to which any sensible Christian would want to belong.
If we would identify with the Zion of Isaiah, however, perhaps we should ask ourselves if our names are really "Forsaken" and "Desolate" as the prophet says. Because we have so often tried to glorify ourselves and our own programs rather than God, is our name actually "Forsaken"? Have we forsaken our true mission of glorifying God? Have we loved ourselves more than we have loved God and neighbor? And have we followed our own plans rather than the plans that the Lord has for us?
If that is true, then perhaps are we also "Desolate," as the prophet announces? Do we really have a place in God's ongoing purpose? Is there any lasting, eternal meaning to the programs we are carrying out? Is what we are doing in our congregation designed to further God's plan for all people, to bring in his kingdom on earth even as it is in heaven? Or are we a little group whose work will disappear in the sands of time and finally be insignificant?
These are very hard questions for any congregation to face, but perhaps the Word of the Lord that comes to us this morning from Isaiah is intended to make us face the questions and to evaluate our church's life once again. Whom are we serving in this church, God or ourselves?
Our text from the Third Isaiah's book (chapters 56-66) is not intended to be an announcement of judgment, however. It is what is known as a "salvation oracle," and the ultimate message that it brings is not bad news but good.
Despite Judah's ongoing sin -- and ours -- despite the church's neglect of the things of God for the service of itself, God nevertheless plans for his people his bright future (note the reference to light in v. 1) and not the dark future that our faithlessness deserves. Always God's mercy breaks into the world to bring the fulfillment of his plan of love.
There will be deliverance and salvation for God's covenant people (v. 1), for Judah and for the church, and our lives will be shaped to be a thing of beauty in the hand of our God (v. 3) -
- a beautiful metaphor for the loving care with which God our King will claim us. God will so transform his church that it will be a delight to him (v. 4), a "bride" over which the divine "bridegroom" can rejoice (vv. 4-5). We in our sin cannot transform our own life as a church, but God can and will.
The language of God as the bridegroom and husband of his people is frequent in the scriptures. Already in earlier prophetic writings, Israel was spoken of as the bride of God (Jeremiah 2:2; Ezekiel 16:8; Hosea 2-3). And our Lord took up that language in his teachings to refer to himself as the bridegroom (Mark 2:19-20 and parallels; Matthew 25:1, 5, 6, 10; cf. John 3:29; Ephesians 5:32). Thus, the Apostle Paul's hope for the church is that it will be presented as a pure bride to Christ (2 Corinthians 11:2), and the future vision of Revelation is that in the Kingdom of God, the church will come "down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband (Revelation 21:2, cf. vv. 9, 17; 19:7), "without spot or wrinkle or any such thing" (Ephesians 5:27), holy and without blemish. In short, God will so work in the life of the church that he will purify us and deliver us from all sinful ways. We are not worthy to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but in Christ, God will make us new, until we can be the people in whose midst he promises to dwell in delight forever (Revelation 21:3).
The prophet prays for that future salvation in our text. He says that he will never cease praying (v. 1) or give God rest until God "establishes Jerusalem and makes it a praise in the earth" (v. 7). Surely, for the same happy outcome for the church, we should pray also. Indeed, every time we pray the Lord's Prayer, we utter that petition: "Thy kingdom come on earth even as it is in heaven." "Lord," we are saying in so many words, "purify thy church. Make us holy and whole, so that we are a delight to you. Transform us by your Spirit to be the church you intended us to be. Prepare us to be your Bride in the new Jerusalem of your kingdom." And perhaps if we earnestly, consistently pray that prayer -- and mean it -- we will open our lives more and more to God's transformation of us.
Isaiah 62:1-5
This passage comes from the oracles that modern scholars attribute to Third Isaiah. They are words written to the Babylonian exiles, promising restoration. They offer an image of God who affirms human joy and is delighted with it. Such words need to be heard in our culture, where more often God is perceived as one who seeks to suppress pleasure or even to punish those who pursue it.
The Lord is the speaker, and Jerusalem the addressee. The oracle begins with a promise that God will not rest until vindication and salvation are accomplished. Indeed, the first verse specifies what kind of divine activity will continue until this takes place: speaking. "I will not be silent," says the Lord, and we all know what the word of the Lord is able to accomplish (if you don't, see Isaiah 55:11). There is no dichotomy between God acting and speaking in the Bible. God acts by speaking, from Genesis 1 ("Let there be light") on.
The salvation that God gives becomes a beacon to others -- a shining light that cannot be hidden (compare Matthew 5:14). Even kings will be impressed by the glory of God's people. Calvin notes that such glory must be very impressive indeed, since kings "are not wont to note any glory save their own."
The implications of God's salvation are conveyed in the bestowal of a new name. In English, the names given in verse 4 may sound silly, but they are actual names in Hebrew. We meet an Azubah ("Forsaken") in 1 Kings 22:42 and a Hephzibah ("My Delight is in Her") in 2 Kings 21:1. We should assume that the Hebrew words for "Desolate" and "Married" were probably actual names also.
There is rich biblical tradition for name changes. Abram becomes Abraham, Jacob becomes Israel, Simon becomes Peter (N.B.: Saul does not become Paul -- those are simply Hebraic and Latinized forms of the same name). The most common situation by far for name changes, however, is the simple cultural convention of a bride adopting her husband's name in marriage. Though this is not always practiced in our modern society, it was universal in the biblical world. A woman's very identity was determined by the man she married. It was not an equal partnership. The man's identity did not alter significantly; the woman's did.
This text neither supports nor denounces such a social system. It merely uses the image as an analogy for understanding the dynamics of a relationship between humans and God. The Lord promises to marry Jerusalem -- to give the people not just a new name, but the Lord's own name. Their identity is thus permanently altered. The metaphor of marriage is also used in the New Testament, when the church is described as the bride of Christ (Matthew 9:15; Ephesians 5:25-33). The book of Revelation alludes to this text in its development of that theme (Revelation 21:2).
The image is powerful, but could be misconstrued in our day, when we at least try to make marriage a less patriarchal institution. God does not offer us a relationship similar to modern marriage. It is not to be a partnership of equals. When the Lord God gets married, there will be no hyphenating of surnames.
Still, there is a surprise here. God marries not out of pity but delight. God's motivation here is not simply a gracious concern to improve the fortunes of beleaguered Jerusalem. God's concern, in fact, is selfish -- and that should be quite flattering to any who identify with Jerusalem in this text. If we are right in that empathy, if Jerusalem is a metaphor here for all God's people, including us, then God is not just concerned for us, but delighted with us.
As such, this text goes way beyond most biblical passages that proclaim God's love. This text does not just assure us that God will keep on loving us no matter how unlovable we may be. This text insists that God loves us because we are lovely. God made us to be lovable and takes delight in us. God sees something in us that we might not always see in ourselves.
A faithful spouse is a good thing. An adoring spouse may be even better. We should be content, perhaps, if God were likened only to the first, but Isaiah likens God to the second also. What greater thrill can come to married persons than to have spouses who are proud of them, who brag about them to others? "A good wife is the crown of her husband," the Bible says (Proverbs 12:4a). Now God declares, "You shall be my crown of beauty" (v. 3). God is proud to have us.
1 Corinthians 12:1-11
This week and next we read Paul's discussion of spiritual gifts in 1 Corinthians 12. These are favorite texts of those involved in "charismatic renewal" movements, which seems ironic since the chapter was originally written to correct the errors and abuses of first-century charismatics. Perhaps for this reason, many churches today immediately identify charismatic gifts with the sort of problems that Paul tries to address here. Such identification easily leads to caricature, and caution can turn to resistance. Many in today's church give charismatic excess so wide a berth that they tumble into the ditch on the opposite side of Christ's narrow road.
The first three verses are very important for setting the context. The Corinthians know what it is to be pagans; they need to learn what it is to be spiritual. Paul's implication is that they don't really know this yet. As the letter continues, we discover that they are quite zealous for spiritual gifts, which is fine, but they are not spiritually mature people. Paul begins, then, by reminding them that they were once "enticed and led astray" by what they now realize to have been dumb idols. This memory should produce a little humility. In essence, he is saying, "If you admit you've gotten it wrong before, then please don't be so quick to assume you've got it right now."
The real test of spiritual maturity is submission to the lordship of Christ. It is unlikely that anyone was literally cursing Jesus at Corinthian worship services or that the Corinthians would be so dense as to need Paul to tell them that this was not of God (v. 3). Rather, the apostle resorts to hyperbole. The charismatics in the Corinthian church equate "spirit" with "ecstasy," that is, with visions, trances, glossolalia, and the like. So, Paul says: Imagine two persons at worship. One becomes quite animated, and in an apparently spirit-induced frenzy calls out, "Jesus be cursed!" The other, in a rather bland and ritualistic way, stands to recite the church's creed, "Jesus is Lord" (cf. Romans 10:9). Which of these, Paul wants to ask, is being moved by the Spirit of God?
The verses that follow deal with representative gifts. Attempts to explain what each gift is and how it differs from the others miss the point. God works in diverse and unpredictable ways. There is no thought here that anyone has any such gift as a permanent possession. Rather, at any time, the Spirit might activate such manifestations in the community. But spiritual maturity is determined by submission to Christ's lordship, which is ultimately demonstrated through the more excellent way of love (1 Corinthians 13:1).
I once sat in a rather typical mainline denominational church and listened to a preacher read a sermon titled "The Dangers of Enthusiasm." I could be wrong, but as I looked over the faces of the congregants that morning, I did not see anyone who appeared to be suffering from an excess of zeal. Many were in danger of nodding off and missing his warnings against snake handlers altogether. I'm not sure that anything he said was wrong; it just didn't seem like the sermon these people most needed to hear.
You know your congregation, I hope. Don't waste their time preaching against charismatic excesses if what they really need is to be awakened to unpredictable manifestations of the Spirit.
John 2:1-11
The theme of the Epiphany season is the manifestation of the glory of the Lord. At some times in church history, this text (rather than the Magi story) actually served as the Gospel for the Day of Epiphany itself. It reports Jesus' first miracle, the "first of his signs" through which "he revealed his glory and his disciples believed in him" (v. 11).
The notion of Jesus working signs to get people to believe in him may strike some Bible readers as odd. Elsewhere in the Bible (the Synoptic Gospels) Jesus refuses to work signs (Matthew 12:38-39). He calls those who seek signs "an evil and adulterous generation" (Matthew 16:4) and associates the working of signs with false prophets (24:24). But in John's Gospel, Jesus' miracles are repeatedly called signs (2:11, 23; 3:2; 4:54; 6:2, 14; 7:31; 9:16; 12:18; 20:30) and they are clearly intended to lead people to believe (10:38; 20:30-31). At the same time, John's Gospel also betrays some reservations regarding faith that is based on signs (4:48). Thus, this Gospel offers an ambiguous evaluation of miracles as an inducement to faith. On the one hand, people are encouraged to believe on account of the works that they see Jesus perform (9:16; 10:38). On the other hand, a special blessing is pronounced upon all "who have not seen and yet have come to believe" (20:29).
The point of referring to miracles as "signs" is that they reveal what God is like. What is rejected in the other Gospels is the idea that miracles may serve as "proofs" to authenticate one's ministry (see Mark 8:11-12). In John's Gospel, the miracles are not called signs because of what they prove but because of what they reveal. The changing of water into wine is not some show-off display of supernatural power intended to convince unbelievers that Jesus is God's agent. It is a "sign" because, for those who do believe Jesus is God's agent, this miracle may reveal what God is about. Jesus is acting as the Word of God made flesh (1:14), and the act of changing water into wine symbolizes the qualitative transformation that God can effect in people's lives.
Even without unraveling the specific meaning of this act, however, something basic about God is revealed through this and all of Jesus' miracles. His supernatural deeds are consistently intended to benefit others. He does not, for instance, curse his enemies or work "punishment miracles" that bring affliction upon others. Accounts of such activity by divine agents were common in the ancient world and even turn up occasionally in the Bible (2 Kings 2:23-25; Acts 13:8-12). But John presents Jesus as the one who has come to reveal God, and the first thing that Jesus reveals is that God loves the world and desires to bless and to save rather than to punish or condemn (John 3:16-17). God wants people to enjoy life, in all its petty detail. God is concerned about party guests not having enough wine to celebrate a wedding. God wants us to be happy.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Isaiah 62:1-5
For those who like to preach from all three lectionary texts, the stated readings for this Sunday could cause a preacher great perplexity. How on earth do they all fit together? The epistle lesson deals with the variety of gifts given by the Spirit to the church. The gospel lesson recounts Jesus' first "sign" at the wedding at Cana, when the water turned into wine became the symbol of his blood poured out for us all. Our Isaiah text concerns the eschatological future of Jerusalem. Other than the reference to a wedding in John and here in Isaiah, the texts seem to have nothing in common.
Actually all three texts can be used to speak of the church. Through years of tradition, the Christian Church has been identified with Jerusalem as the "Zion of God." "O Zion haste, thy mission high fulfilling," we sing. If we keep that traditional imagery, Isaiah 62:1-5 then may be used as a proclamation to the church, and the central thought of the passage is that the church will be given two new symbolic names: "Hephzibah," meaning "my (that is, God's) delight is in her," and "Beulah," meaning "Married" (that is, to the Lord. This is the passage from which we get the phrase "Beulah land").
God will give us new names, but like the peoples in the story of the Tower of Babel, we in the church have always tried to "make a name for ourselves" (Genesis 11:4). To be sure, we call ourselves evangelicals or liberals, Presbyterians or Baptists, Methodists or Episcopalians, and so forth. But beyond that, we have always been concerned with our image. We want our church to be known as a megachurch or as a socially active denomination in the U.S. And locally, we want others to acknowledge that we are the most successful church in town, or the friendliest. We point to our lively youth groups and our magnificent choirs, to the beauty of our sanctuary or to our historic past. We glorify our programs and our mission budget, all in the effort to show others that our congregation is pre-
eminent and surely the one to which any sensible Christian would want to belong.
If we would identify with the Zion of Isaiah, however, perhaps we should ask ourselves if our names are really "Forsaken" and "Desolate" as the prophet says. Because we have so often tried to glorify ourselves and our own programs rather than God, is our name actually "Forsaken"? Have we forsaken our true mission of glorifying God? Have we loved ourselves more than we have loved God and neighbor? And have we followed our own plans rather than the plans that the Lord has for us?
If that is true, then perhaps are we also "Desolate," as the prophet announces? Do we really have a place in God's ongoing purpose? Is there any lasting, eternal meaning to the programs we are carrying out? Is what we are doing in our congregation designed to further God's plan for all people, to bring in his kingdom on earth even as it is in heaven? Or are we a little group whose work will disappear in the sands of time and finally be insignificant?
These are very hard questions for any congregation to face, but perhaps the Word of the Lord that comes to us this morning from Isaiah is intended to make us face the questions and to evaluate our church's life once again. Whom are we serving in this church, God or ourselves?
Our text from the Third Isaiah's book (chapters 56-66) is not intended to be an announcement of judgment, however. It is what is known as a "salvation oracle," and the ultimate message that it brings is not bad news but good.
Despite Judah's ongoing sin -- and ours -- despite the church's neglect of the things of God for the service of itself, God nevertheless plans for his people his bright future (note the reference to light in v. 1) and not the dark future that our faithlessness deserves. Always God's mercy breaks into the world to bring the fulfillment of his plan of love.
There will be deliverance and salvation for God's covenant people (v. 1), for Judah and for the church, and our lives will be shaped to be a thing of beauty in the hand of our God (v. 3) -
- a beautiful metaphor for the loving care with which God our King will claim us. God will so transform his church that it will be a delight to him (v. 4), a "bride" over which the divine "bridegroom" can rejoice (vv. 4-5). We in our sin cannot transform our own life as a church, but God can and will.
The language of God as the bridegroom and husband of his people is frequent in the scriptures. Already in earlier prophetic writings, Israel was spoken of as the bride of God (Jeremiah 2:2; Ezekiel 16:8; Hosea 2-3). And our Lord took up that language in his teachings to refer to himself as the bridegroom (Mark 2:19-20 and parallels; Matthew 25:1, 5, 6, 10; cf. John 3:29; Ephesians 5:32). Thus, the Apostle Paul's hope for the church is that it will be presented as a pure bride to Christ (2 Corinthians 11:2), and the future vision of Revelation is that in the Kingdom of God, the church will come "down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband (Revelation 21:2, cf. vv. 9, 17; 19:7), "without spot or wrinkle or any such thing" (Ephesians 5:27), holy and without blemish. In short, God will so work in the life of the church that he will purify us and deliver us from all sinful ways. We are not worthy to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but in Christ, God will make us new, until we can be the people in whose midst he promises to dwell in delight forever (Revelation 21:3).
The prophet prays for that future salvation in our text. He says that he will never cease praying (v. 1) or give God rest until God "establishes Jerusalem and makes it a praise in the earth" (v. 7). Surely, for the same happy outcome for the church, we should pray also. Indeed, every time we pray the Lord's Prayer, we utter that petition: "Thy kingdom come on earth even as it is in heaven." "Lord," we are saying in so many words, "purify thy church. Make us holy and whole, so that we are a delight to you. Transform us by your Spirit to be the church you intended us to be. Prepare us to be your Bride in the new Jerusalem of your kingdom." And perhaps if we earnestly, consistently pray that prayer -- and mean it -- we will open our lives more and more to God's transformation of us.
