The Water of Life

Exodus 17:1-7 and John 4:5-42

Water. Clean water. Cleansing water. Life giving water.

Water is on our minds a lot these days. We are being told to wash with it, with copious amounts of it, because to wash in copious amounts of water with some soap mixed in has the effect of cleansing us from the virus that threatens us. Today, we are concerned first about water to cleanse with and second about water to quench thirst.

Water is the hook in both of our lessons today, too, but in both these cases, the water being discussed first is water to quench thirst.

In the wilderness, the Israelites grumble, and their grumpiness is driven by their fear. They are on a journey that would be difficult by anyone’s standards, and they fear that scarcity of water will lead them to death.

Their fear leads them to quarrel with Moses and test the Lord. They complain about their situation and they complain about the uncertainty of their journey and of their lives.

The people are thirsty for water and scared for their survival but God answers them in terms they never could have expected.

God uses Moses and his staff, the same staff that God transformed from rod to snake to rod again on Mount Horeb, when Moses was first called by God to lead them out of slavery in Egypt into freedom. With that rod God now miraculously produces water from a rock to slake their thirst.

Many in our world today know fear as we deal with the threat of the COVID 19 virus. “Wash with water” we are told, over and over again and it’s great advice, but it does nothing to mitigate our fear.

As people hoard everything from hand sanitizer – the great water substitute - to toilet paper, to drinking water and milk, to face masks there is a great deal of fear-driven grumbling now, too.

Where will this pandemic lead?

How many more people will be infected?

How many will die?

Is this punishment for the evil in our world?

Schools are cancelled, nursing homes shuttered to visitors, churches cease holding services inside their buildings, people who can work from home and a vast number of people wonder if this is the crisis that will cause them to become homeless, to lose their jobs, to stretch them past the breaking point.

How can we protect ourselves?

How can we protect our lives from infection by other people?

What about school? What about our jobs?

What will happen to our retirement accounts and our investment accounts and our livelihoods? How long, Oh Lord, how long?

These are all very practical concerns.

Then there are others like,

“What do you mean we need to cancel March Madness?”

Some claim all this is overkill, others fear it is still not enough to protect us, and yet others believe it’s all a great big conspiracy.

Then comes the plaintive cry,

“Where is God in all of this?”

Jesus comes to the well in Sychar, Samaria, tired and thirsty. He is a Jewish rabbi, sitting at the intersection of life in a Samaritan city, there at Jacob’s well.

This country and this city are not places of comfort and welcome for him.

As a Jew he is an outsider from a despised race. There is no love lost between Samaritans and Jews. The racist animosity and hatred between them goes long and it goes deep.

There in the scorching heat of mid-day sun comes a woman who has loved and lost enough in her life to have earned a reputation. She knows about loss. Before we go throwing stones of judgment at her, though, note that nowhere in scripture does it say why she has had five husbands and lives with yet another man now. Divorce was a husband’s prerogative and women of the time were set aside for any number of reasons, the inability to conceive and carry a child chief among them. We simply don’t know.

But we can guess that she suffers from a different kind of thirst as she comes to the well. She chooses a time of day that would allow her to avoid interaction with anyone else.

While Jacob’s well was a central gathering place for the drawing of water and for social interaction within the town each morning and evening when it would have been cooler, that is not when she comes. Only shunned folk would go there in the midst of the heat.

As she approaches carrying her water jug, she sees this stranger resting nearby. Jesus speaks to her, expresses his need to her. “Give me a drink,” he says.

She can hardly believe her ears, and she protests, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”

Jesus then does an astonishing thing: he reveals his true identity to her.

Unusual details in this gospel begin piling up:

·         this is the longest recorded dialogue in the New Testament.

·         She is the first person and certainly the first outside of his religious and ethnic group to whom Jesus reveals himself in John’s gospel, and

·         this Samaritan woman is the first believer in any of the gospels to go directly from realization of Jesus’ identity to belief and then in lightning-fast trajectory straight to evangelist.

            In fact, so quickly does she react to share her remarkable encounter that she leaves her precious and much-needed water jug behind.

Fear aside, she runs straight to the people who on any day of the week gossip about her and shun her and she shares what has happened. And they listen and are amazed! In fact, they, who had nothing good to say about her and were formerly repelled by her came to believe in Jesus and to come to him and hear him teach because of her testimony.

            The water at the center of this gospel is not just any water, and Jesus doesn’t just come and throw it at the woman to save her. Rather, in love and mercy, Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at the well. He reveals a vulnerability there. He engages her on her territory and shares his humanity there. Revealing his need makes it easier to address hers.

            He knows everything there is to know about her, but he doesn’t reject her, preach to her, or judge her.

Jesus’ behavior toward her is radical and risky as is evident in the reaction from his disciples. But that is the way of God.

Jesus loves her where she is and he offers her the gift of everlasting water and life through the spirit, a gift that is not dependent on where she comes from, nor her gender, nor her background or history.

            The gift Jesus offers is the same gift given to us through his life, death and resurrection. It is the gift that God is with us through every storm, through every trial, through every adversity, virus, and uncertainty now and always.

            Jesus is the life-saving water that feeds our hunger and thirst. In his grace he loves us regardless of where we are from or where we have been.

Because of his love and the life-saving, life-altering grace he gives us, we have no reason to fear. No matter where this virus goes, or what it does it cannot take from us the only essential thing in life, the everlasting water that quenches our soul-deep thirst.

            The knowledge of God’s presence with us through every trial inspires our courage, and invites our confidence that indeed, God will never leave us or forsake us. Over and over again throughout the Scriptures we here the divine message – “have no fear” and, “do not be afraid”.  

God defies our natural inclination toward fear as much as he defies convention in this gospel by engaging with a Samaritan woman and using her testimony to lead many to faith.

            Many of us have had our lives disrupted in recent days, and we see no end in sight. There is a great deal of uncertainty and fear.

On Friday of this week, as I was trying to determine whether or not to hold worship services in the church this week, and how to proceed with an abundance of caution while still keeping and encouraging faith I struggled. How to make the best decision? In a time when we need to come together in prayer and mutual support, the idea of canceling worship was repugnant. It sort of still is. But it seemed to be the best way to love and care for my siblings in Christ and our neighbors.

None of us likes the insecurity with which we are surrounded. Hence the hoarding of resources.

            But into the storm of our present day circumstances, God reaches out and touches us with moments of calm. With opportunities still to love and serve our neighbor.

Our vulnerability, our need and our thirst are all answered for us in the waters of our baptism. Once again it is water that saves, water that reassures, water that quenches our thirst. Through those waters and God’s Word, we remember that God has chosen us for faith, for courage, and for sharing our confidence that ultimately, all will be well because God has ordained it. Not promising that it would be easy or without pain, God has given us life that really is life.

So, my friends, fear not. These are not empty words – God is with you.

May the peace of Christ that is in, under, around and over you guide your hearts and minds as you face the challenge of these days. Amen.

           

  

Beloved of God, Sharing a Baptism with Christ

Matthew 3:13-17 Baptism of Jesus

It’s hard to believe it is a new year already. I, for one, am still having trouble writing “2017” on documents and correspondence. I’ve heard the lament from more than one of my friends, from many of you, and reflected in words coming from my own lips – “time really flies” – it goes by so fast. Over and over, there is that repeated refrain - “how can it be….?” – and then we fill in the blank – “how can it be … December,” or … “June,” …“a new year,” …“another birthday,” …“his high school graduation,” …“my baby’s wedding day,”  or, if we are lucky, … “our anniversary – 50 years”! Can anyone here relate?

We feel the astonishing passage of time here in church, too. Just last week, our gospel relayed the story of the naming of Jesus. The gospel gave us the story of the day when Mary and Joseph brought an eight-day-old Jesus to the temple for this naming.

So it is, that with a hiccup of surprise we realize that in our gospel text today, Jesus is now a grown man – some 30 years of his life have flown by. That’s thirty years that we don’t know much about – Jesus has grown up in the blink of an eye, or the turn of a page, leaving all those growing up years and the stories that go with them, a mystery to us.

But that doesn’t much matter, because the important stuff, the stuff that tells us about God, and how God is acting in and for the world through Jesus, is revealed through the public ministry of Jesus, and the scriptures are full of those stories – stories that we will encounter as we make our way through the gospels.

It is that public ministry for which Christ is anointed through this baptism we observe today. Right after his baptism, Jesus would go into the wilderness to prepare himself for that ministry. Even Jesus had to prepare.

Back in this baptismal scene, we read about the voice of God which Jesus hears as he emerges from the water – “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  As Jesus receives the Holy Spirit “descending like a dove” and alighting on him, Jesus is both revealed and acclaimed as the Son of God.

Reflecting on this passage, we might ask ourselves, did Jesus really need to be baptized? As the Son of God, as the blameless, sinless one, did Jesus really need this washing?

The thing is, as Jesus was baptized at the Jordan River, as God claimed him as his Son and filled him with the Holy Spirit, God provided for us what may be the closest connection between Jesus’ life and ministry and our own, making this a very special day for us, as well. Once again, God enacts mercy and grace for us through Jesus.

For, as Jesus invited John to take part in his baptism, Jesus invites him – and us – into the work on which he himself will embark, proclaiming and embodying the goodness and justice of God.

It is in baptism that we too, are claimed as daughters and sons of God. It is in baptism that we are blessed by the Holy Spirit, and filled with the gifts we need for ministry. It is in baptism that God tells us that we are beloved, and that our inheritance is secured; we are given new life and thereby we each become a new creation of God.

How does it feel to know that this thing that we have experienced in our baptism was once experienced by Jesus himself? For myself, I am simply struck with awe of this reality.

One of the most powerful experiences of our Christian lives is remembering our own baptisms. To hear once again the claim that we are beloved of God, as Jesus was; to remember that we are anointed with the Holy Spirit, as Jesus was; To absorb the reality that we are known and empowered by God, forever, is an experience like no other, and it is an experience that we share with Jesus Christ, himself. To be reminded that this baptism commissions each one of us into ministry in the name of Jesus is a holy experience.

And so, I hope that you got good and soaked as I came down the aisle with water this morning and “sprinkled” you in remembrance of that day when you were washed in the living waters of baptism. I hope that as you felt drops of water from the font fall on you, you felt solidarity with Christ himself in the remembrance of this means of grace we share.

Today we reflect on the sacrament of Baptism, through which each of us has received grace upon grace for the living of our lives and for carrying on the holy work that God entrusts to each one of us.

Although we are reminded of our baptism when we gather together each week, as we gather around the table and nurtured for our work as disciples of Christ, our Holy Baptism is best remembered and most explicitly appreciated when, as a community, we celebrate the baptism of a new sister or brother.

On such occasions, we powerfully recall that in baptism God made each of us a participant in the ministry of Jesus for the sake of the world. The importance and the reality of our baptism should never be far from our minds. For, as Jesus shares life, death and resurrection with us, Jesus shares the work and call of ministry with each of us as well.

Christians often describe baptism as an outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible grace that God works on our behalf. It is God’s action that is of import here, not our own. It is God who makes us holy, not we ourselves who accomplish this by anything we do. It is for God’s sake, that we are sent to reflect God’s love as we are empowered, through the sacraments, for the work of God’s mission to love, heal, bear compassion for the poor, the marginalized, the unloved, the unaccepted, the disregarded ones who are part of God’s creation.

It is for this reason that there is but one baptism for the forgiveness of sins and the commissioning of our call as children of God and workers together for the kingdom of God. Yet Baptism is not a “one and done” kind of thing. In fact, it is the opposite of an isolated act carried out once in our lives for our own benefit.

As Martin Luther said, each day, in baptism, we die to sin and are renewed in the new life given to us by God.

In Baptism, we received the everlasting, perpetual declaration of love and pleasure that God takes in us, and the grace God repeatedly extends to us for the sake of the kingdom of God.

In baptism, we recognize that God loves us and is well-pleased with us simply because of who we are – his own beloved children. This realization frees us to live into the baptismal promises with gusto.

We are freed to live out the gospel goodness of God; to feed the hungry, to give water to those who thirst, to work for the life of all people. In the next several weeks, through the scriptures we encounter, we will learn how to share the light of Jesus by living as Jesus teaches, in humility, serving our neighbors and giving comfort to those who are hurting. Soon, we will hear from Jesus’ own mouth, the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus’ recipe for living into the grace of God.

There are challenges in this, for sure. It can be risky, sometimes, to offer hope to those in deep despair, to those who look around and see only desolation in the world and in their lives. Through our baptism and the grace of God revealed to us in Christ we are bold to offer comfort to those who live in fear of terror attacks, and shootings, and disease and hunger, and the uncertain and frightening possibilities of what our future world might look like, living today in a world full of division, apathy and anger as we are.  

We live into our baptismal commission when, as the Body of Christ, we continually seek new ways to engage with our community and our neighbors to ease suffering and isolation, homelessness and fear locally and in places far away from here. Our baptism calls us to share in the goodness and justice of God. That means seeing all people, even those with whom we disagree, even those who look, speak and worship differently than we do, as sisters and brothers created by God and beloved of God as well and therefore equal to us in every way.

We are blessed when we remember our baptism, and reflect on the mercy and forgiveness showered upon us in drops or currents of water on that day and we are blessed by the Holy Spirit to live each day as an opportunity to rejoice in the daily death of sin and birth into new life and a new creation of God.

As a congregation, this year we will seek to intentionally and continually remember our baptism by engaging in prayer and bible study reflecting on the history of our faith, and seeking to discern God’s plan and mission for this Body of Christ in this time and place.

We will remember God’s words, spoken of Jesus, “This is my Son, the Beloved, in whom I am well pleased,” and we will recall that as these words shine a light on Jesus, that light is reflected upon all the baptized and all who remain close to him by following him and his holy word.

Please pray with me.

O Most Holy God, who blessed the world through the birth and revelation of Jesus as your own Son, now bless us as we seek to follow him, reveling in the gift of our baptism, and emboldened by your holy word. Grant us the wisdom and grace to live as your daughters and sons, washed in the waters of life for the sake of Jesus Christ, Our Lord. Amen.

           

Soaked in Water and Wonder

Mark 1:4-11 

        Sam describes a daily ritual in his life. Every night, he and his wife meet in the kitchen to prepare dinner. They each sip from a glass of wine as they talk, and laugh, and sometimes, even dance the stresses of the day away.

        Together they chop and saute and simmer away the day’s problems. Their daughter Lacey comes in after a little while, and sets the table. They light candles, hold hands, pray, and share the dinner meal together. This time is sacred time for the family. In a deep way, it binds them together.

        Julie has a ritual too. Each day she comes home from work, shucks off her “business attire,” pulls on her comfy sweater and lounge pants, and washes her face. This is her way of symbolically shucking off the concerns and demands of her high-pressure job, of washing away the detritus of her long commute, of the worries of the day that still linger, and easing into her evening of activities or relaxation or rest. There is something sacred for Julie, too, in this symbolic transformation she makes, day after day.

        People engage in all kinds of rituals, for all kinds of reasons.

        The most common reason may be the belief (or hope) that the prescribed actions within the rituals will provide some kind of comfort, reassurance, or sometimes perhaps, protection.

        Rituals somehow bring about or mark a change. A change in focus; a change in essence of the person, place, or time; a change in status or condition.

Think about it. What rituals might you engage in, daily or othewise?

        Sometimes, rituals tie us in some way, to others. As vulnerable, finite beings, we often rely on rituals because they reassure us that we are not alone or that we are part of something larger than ourselves, or that we have the ability to tap into powers greater than ourselves, through the actions of our rituals.

        Rituals may, in fact, provide an entry point into membership of a group or community. They may convey a new identity in some way. They provide meaning. They are at the core of the communal activity of most religions.

        At the beginning of our worship service today, we engaged in a ritual when we remembered and gave thanks for Baptism. Perhaps you even got a little bit wet. Again. As you once did, when you were baptized.

        Now, the truth is, that you may or may not, literally remember your own baptism. Perhaps you were old enough that you remember the day—if nothing else, remember getting your head wet, remember the prayers and celebration that may have followed.

        For many of us, any actual memory of our baptism has been provided to us by our parents or other relatives, or by pictures that were taken that day, or other mementos that may have been saved, because we were too young to form those memories for ourselves.

        But we need to remember. Because Baptism means something, and yet, that meaning often gets lost in all the packaging.

        Baptism is seen by many people as a ritual itself—it may be understood as an action that brings comfort, or reassurance, or protection and identity to the person being baptized—which, I suppose you could say is at least partially true. But we miss the real meaning of Baptism if we only see it as a ritual to be performed, a rite to accomplish. The fact of the matter is that it is not our action, it is not what we do, it is not all the movements, words, clothing and celebration that form our rituals around it that make Baptism the holy and sacred gift that it is.

It is what God does in us through this spectacular gift of love and mercy that is at the heart of Baptism. Baptism matters.

        In a world where life itself seems some days to hold less and less worth, where we constantly hear about bombings and shootings, about hit-and-runs and the lives of little children coming to tragic, horrific ends Baptism matters. Indeed, in a world where death constantly beckons, where health fails and cures don’t always exist, Baptism matters. For the forgiveness of sin and the promise of everlasting life, Baptism matters.

        And in our gospel today, we read about Jesus’ own Baptism. And we have to wonder, don’t we?  How is it that the sinless one is first revealed and met through a ritual of repentance?

        Why in the world would Jesus, the Messiah, need to be, choose to be, baptized? Why did this one of whom John the Baptist spoke, this one who, John identifies as, “more powerful than I,” of whom, John said, “I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals,” present himself to be baptized in the waters of the Jordan River?

        Perhaps the way in which Mark chooses to begin his gospel provides some insight into these questions. 

        While both Luke and Matthew begin their gospels with the nativity of Jesus, full of images we can visualize and memorize, images like Mary’s and Joseph’s incredible journey to Bethlehem, like angelic visions and angel song, like a brightly shining star and the shepherds who followed it, like a sweet manger scene; and while John begins his gospel with the poetic description of Jesus as God’s eternal Word, and the Word taking on flesh, and God’s glory being revealed in this Word who brings Light and Life, Mark takes us to the river. Mark begins his gospel with this Epiphany, with this revelation of who Jesus Christ truly is. Mark gives us this baptismal scene.

        John, who, we remember, is Jesus’ cousin, the one who leapt in his mother, Elizabeth’s womb at the Virgin Mary’s visit, is in the wilderness, calling people to repentance and inviting them to be baptized, and announcing the one who is coming…..

        Baptism as ritual was nothing new to many of those in ancient Judaism, who viewed it as a religious cleansing, a washing with water, signifying purification or consecration, not only for the purpose of extinguishing the guilt of transgression, but as a ritual of holy living, to prepare for the attainment of a closer communion with God.

        But then, Jesus enters in. Literally. Jesus enters the waters of the Jordan. Perhaps, Jesus entering those waters is meant to help us recall all the water-tales of the Scriptures, beginning with the first reading and the water story of Genesis, where the Spirit of God moved over the face of the waters and God created the world. 

        Or the flood story where God uses water to make a new creation, saving Noah and his family. Or the exodus story where God uses water to free the Israelites from slavery as they cross through the sea, with God creating a wall of water for them on their left and on their right so that they can walk on dry land to freedom.

        As they journey through the wilderness God provides water from a rock so they may never thirst. And when they reach the end of their wandering, God brings them into the Promised Land through water, to the land flowing with milk and honey and the fulfillment of God’s promises. That water is the river Jordan. The same water we find Jesus in.

        Pastor Virginia Cover writes that perhaps all this water-talk is meant to remind us that God is faithful throughout the generations. That God shows up in the water, to make good on God’s promises. That God uses water to shape identities and reveal who God is. And so, at the beginning of this gospel, at the beginning of this Epiphany and this story of the revelation of Jesus Christ, Son of God, Jesus enters in.

        Here is where Mark’s story stands in stark contrast to the nativity scenes we have so recently left behind. Here the story of Jesus’ Baptism stands in stark contrast to our own sweet, tender and tame baptismal photographs and remembrances.

As we read this gospel, we come to understand Baptism is not about us and what we do, it is about God and what God has done in Jesus Christ. When it comes right down to it, Jesus’ Baptism bears little resemblance to comforting, familiar ritual we know.

Because at Jesus’ Baptism the heavens are torn apart. Ripped to shreds.

Cover points out that the same Greek verb used here appears later when Jesus breathes his last and the curtain of the temple is torn in two. Ripped to shreds. Literally.

The curtain of the temple: that barrier between God and the people, the symbol of God being separated from us is ripped to shreds. And here in this gospel, at his Baptism we find Jesus, in the waters, ripping stuff to shreds as a preview of more to come because in his death and resurrection he will rip apart anything, and everything that might try to separate us from God.

        He will rip it up and he will soak it with water—with tears as he weeps for the city, for the 12 killed in Paris, for the hundreds lost in an airline, for a bicyclist lost to a senseless accident, for all those lost to violence, or neglect, abuse or addiction; for those immured in illness; for all who grieve and long for a different world, for healing and peace.

        This same Jesus, upon whom the Spirit descends from that torn-apart heaven, will soak us all with water, flowing out from his side—a healing balm for all who hurt or long for forgiveness. This is Mark’s epiphany story. This is who Jesus is—the One who comes to the under-water places, the messed up, torn-apart places in our world and in our lives. The places we think will never be put back again. Jesus, the revelation of the love of God, meets us under the waters and pulls us up to forgiveness and healing; pulls us out to freedom and truth-telling. 

      There is more good news for us in this Word, for this Jesus meets us in the water and changes our baptism from ritual action to life-saving, life-giving transformation. Thus transformed, our Baptism offers us light illuminating, grace-full, mercy-full communion with our Lord and Savior, and it indeed means something. It is a game-changer, as Jesus leaves behind the mark of the cross on us. Jesus washes away the guilt of our sin, Jesus baptizes us with the Holy Spirit, tearing apart our brokenness, ripping to shreds the effects of our pain, and bringing about the healing of the nations.

       By his baptism, Jesus has once again proclaimed his commitment to be alongside us, in repentance and sorrow, in forgiveness and new life. Joyfully, Baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, we are washed in water and Word, sealed with the cross of Christ and proclaimed “Child of God.” In mercy and in love, we are united with Jesus in death, in life, and all eternity.

Amen.

Trickles to Gushes to Joy

Isaiah 35:1-10 ~ Advent III, December 15, 2013

I pray that your Advent journey this year has been blessed thus far, and that despite the busy-ness of the season you have found some time to sit a while and catch your breath, appreciating an oasis of calm amidst the frenetic activity of your days. I hope that you’ve found time away from all that shopping, decorating, cooking, or planning of menus and cleaning, interspersed among the normal everyday activities, work, schedules and appointments of our lives, which can make us all just a little bit crazy come mid-December. Throw in a snow day here or a nasty virus there, and this season of joy can quickly turn into one we just wish were over already.

I hope as you prepared to come to church this morning, that you felt a stirring of anticipation at what God’s Word would have to say to you today.

This Advent season, we have been looking at the Isaiah texts that this year’s lectionary cycle of readings has brought us. In the past couple of weeks, Isaiah has led us to imagine what transformed lives and a transformed world might look like, if peace and hope were to reign. We were invited into these texts to see what Isaiah saw in the visions God gave him of the creation that will one day be restored through divine love. And we were invited to imagine with him, what our transformed lives and world might look like, when God’s promises are fulfilled and God’s creation is brought to its fullness as the glory of the Lord breaks upon us. And we were surprised to see that there are signs of God’s in-breaking transformation all around us already – signs of God-like love spun as a silky web in the most unlikely of places.

Today our turn to Isaiah’s texts continues, in this truly beautiful passage that we heard just a short while ago, when (our lector) read these words, “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing.” Words like these just make me want to dance. The sense of joy that leaps off the page is just that vibrant. Isaiah is describing bursting-at-the-seams joy in this passage. He is describing not just a reversal, but a transformation that will come when God comes to reign, and with God’s coming the health and wholeness of the creation will be restored. It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it?

This passage seems to flow naturally, following the texts that we have contemplated the past two weeks which lifted up peace and hope. But if you pick up your bible and read through Isaiah you’ll find that quite a lot has transpired between chapter 11, where we left off last week, and chapter 35, where we find ourselves this morning. And if you were to have read through those chapters, you will have found that in these words before us this morning, Isaiah speaks what Barbara Lundblad refers to as “a word out of place,” because they follow an indictment against the nations that have brought devastation to Israel and have taken her people off into exile and destroyed the temple and caused the people of God such despair and heartache and desolation. Now, in these verses, the text moves, without any real transition, from describing the judgment against Edom and the ecological disaster that follows, to these verses, where the wilderness and dry land are filled with gladness and rejoicing and rejuvenation.

Lundblad writes, “Isaiah speaks a word out of place. Amid chaos and destruction, against despair and apathy, Isaiah speaks a word of restoration. Against a deep, dark, soul-grating thirst, Isaiah describes water – not a trickle appearing in the midst of a lush forest, either, but water appearing as if a dam had burst, sending water gushing into a parched, dry, cracked, desolate landscape of our souls. Perhaps it was, at first, a trickle. Then a stream. Then a full-on gushing flood of life-changing water.”

I wonder if you can think of a time when you were really, truly thirsty. For most of us I imagine that we can conjure up a time when we really wanted a drink – maybe we had been sick, running a fever; maybe you found yourself on an outing and no one and thought to pack enough beverages to take along; maybe you went for an unexpected hike and realized too late that you hadn’t thought of that little necessity.  A few of us might have experienced serious thirst or been caught in situations a little more dangerous, without sufficient water.

I know that in times when I have been really truly thirsty, finding water became an obsession. Our physical need for water is so great and constant. Imagine that you were in the middle of the desert or in the wilderness and you had no access to clean water-it wouldn’t take long for thirst to overwhelm.

I read a book, Unbroken, by Laura Hillenbrand earlier this year. It’s is the true story of Louis Zamperini, a WWII bombardier whose plane crashed into the Pacific Ocean in 1943. The three survivors of the crash spent weeks on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Thirst was indescribable and brutal and even the slightest, briefest relief of it brought unimaginable joy. Parched, at times delirious, the men longed for, ached for and even dreamed of refreshing life-giving water to replace the death-dealing water that surrounded them day after day.

Imagine being in that raft in the middle of the ocean or on your hike or in your sickbed in a state of real, dire thirst and suddenly, receiving that first trickle of relief – that first trickle of water. And then the water flows more freely and you go from sipping to slurping to gulping it down, great torrents of cool refreshment and relief from the agony of thirst. What does it feel like to go from suffering real thirst to sudden refreshment and relief of cool, fresh, flowing water?

When our kids were little, they loved getting a quarter from us to use in vending machines – like old fashioned bubblegum machines, but when you cranked the handle on these machines, a prize would fall out below. I don’t even know if they make them anymore, but I remember that one of the prizes that might be delivered would be a tiny compressed piece of material, so small that it fit into a vitamin-sized capsule.

You would put this capsule in water and instantly the plastic covering would melt away, and the piece of material inside would begin to swell. It would absorb more and more water until it would double and then triple and quadruple in size until it became I don’t know how many times the size of the original piece. It was often the shape of a dinosaur or some other animal. This little blob of – whatever – was totally transformed by the water into something the kids could then enjoy.

I think of God’s promised restoration and transformation in this way.

God’s coming transforms that which is dried and shriveled and shrunken in on itself in utter lifelessness, and suddenly it comes to life, it will swells and grows and takes on shape and form.

Isaiah provides assurance that God’s coming will result not in the people’s destruction but in their salvation and renewal, health and wholeness – in their swelling and taking on the shape and form of the creator. What’s more, like the parched and dry land, like the burning sand, the weakest and most vulnerable will be not only restored but utterly transformed; “eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy”. They will go from being nearly invisible, shapeless, worthless scraps of material to being completely refreshed, rejuvenated, and transformed into the beautiful, ransomed people of God’s redeeming love.

God’s work among humanity is nothing short of radical, transformative, and restorative. When the LORD appears, strange and marvelous things happen, and like a word out of place, it instantly changes the world into which it h as come. The wilderness becomes a flourishing path with streams of water flowing abundantly. Dangerous highways become holy paths upon which the redeemed can walk with assurance. The blind see, the deaf hear, and the lame not only walk but leap for joy. The exiles return home. And there is unbridled rejoicing from the ransomed people of God.

This word is good news today for all those who languish in exile in this in-between time of waiting and watching. It is good news for those who wait in cancer wards and prisons; good news for the homeless and the voiceless. God’s bubbling, streaming, flowing word is good news for those who truly thirst in our world, for those who hunger in ways that we cannot even fathom, for those who find themselves with feeble knees and weak hands and fearful hearts. God’s refreshing word is good news for the depressed, for those who long for love and acceptance, those who hear voices that set them apart, those who, in their isolation hear no voices at all; for those who suffer addictions that control and destroy their lives, and for anyone who feels disillusioned and disenfranchised.

When the fullness of God comes among us, all of us, all of creation, and all of humanity will be transformed. In the meantime, God is already at work, and God’s word out of place is a balm for those who hear this word and seek to follow God’s mission, faithful to God’s command to love, and to build faith along the Way of peace and joy and hope.

God’s word out of place comes in the form of the outpouring of generosity from individuals, churches and organizations who come together to provide Christmas joy for families who would otherwise “have no” Christmas. God’s word out of place comes when we give to organizations that help provide clean sustainable water supply for a village in Columbia or Central America. God’s word out of place comes from food drives and blood drives and strangers helping strangers in their hour of need.

As we continue our Advent journey, may we be blessed by the images that God sends all around us to guide our way, to speak a word out of place and to prepare our hearts to receive the Lord Jesus Christ on Christmas. May we find trickles of God’s life-giving water turning to streams, washing and refreshing the people of God, reminding us of the great cleansing and new birth of our baptism. And may we be reminded of the words of the prophet, “And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” May such joy accompany you on your journey to Bethlehem.

Amen.