Grace, mercy, and peace from our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.
In the late ’60s and throughout the 1970s, the arrival of summer at our home meant a family vacation — the kind of old-fashioned vacation where Mom and Dad would load up the station wagon, later a conversion van that my dad built, with everything we needed for a two-week, seven-day-a-week, non-stop vacation. Dad would pull out of the driveway, and for the next two weeks he drove day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute around some part of the country, stopping along the side of the road to sleep, or in a parking lot, in order to get a little rest for about four hours before he got back on the road again. To us as we grew up, it seemed more like a road rally than a vacation.
It wasn’t until much later in life that we learned why he drove, and why we rode so far and went so many places and stayed for so little time. My dad would later tell us that essentially our family vacations were scouting excursions. My mom and dad were on a 15-year quest to find the place they would retire to once my dad retired from the telephone company. Tucson was the winner of the 15-year quest. I have no idea why they picked a desert wilderness for their retirement paradise, but that’s what they did.
Even my dad, who’s sort of an unofficial evangelist to the grandkids for the desert and the way of life down in Tucson, will tell you that the wilderness is a dangerous place. The desert either wants to bite you, scratch you, stab you, burn you, dry you out, or kill you. Those are his words. Nice place to retire to, isn’t it? And that’s where he’s settled.
Well, the people of Isaiah’s day understood exactly what it meant to live and journey in a desert. They understood the real-life threats that traveling in or through the wilderness brought with it. And here in Isaiah chapter 35, in the Old Testament lesson, Isaiah used that familiarity with wilderness to remind the Israelites of their relationship both to a fallen and sinful world and to the Lord God as His adopted children.
Isaiah used this very real place — the wilderness — as a metaphor for the temptations, suffering, hardship, and dangers that believers and non-believers alike experience in real life and in real time. Every aspect of human existence was cursed by God in Genesis chapter 3 after the fall. God said to Adam: “Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life. It will produce for you thorns and thistles, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your face you will eat bread, until you return to the ground, because from it you were taken; for you are dust, and into dust you shall return.” It’s a curse upon every aspect of human existence — a curse of hardship and judgment and ultimately of passing away, that is, death.
That’s the first part of the story. Here in chapter 35, Isaiah gives us a glimpse of what that old-time radio guy used to call “the rest of the story”: “The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom like a crocus. It will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.” The metaphor takes us from the reality of the life that we live here and now to the reality that will come to pass in the person and the work of the promised Messiah.
The point is that, in a very real way, the coming of the Christ rescues us from the wilderness that we live in — the wilderness that sin created, the wilderness that was produced by God’s judgment upon sin. He who cursed the ground and every aspect of human life will remove the curse and restore what had already been lost, all the way back there in Genesis chapter 3. He will turn the wilderness into a paradise for those who believe.
The first 40 chapters of Isaiah, with few exceptions, are words of Law and judgment — Law and judgment against the Israelites. Chapter 35 is a reprieve from the words of judgment that Isaiah has heaped upon the people, in a court-like atmosphere where God accuses His children of forsaking Him, of turning to false gods, of immoral corruption. Isaiah was writing to a people who, collectively and individually, had lots of experience with the wilderness — literally and figuratively.
The Hebrew word for wilderness is midbar, and when the Hebrews heard that word, it produced images of judgment, of 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, of danger, suffering, and death. Midbar is a bad word to hear in the ancient world. From the very beginning of this family, the Israelites’ life would be filled with pain and suffering, and they were painfully aware of what it meant to journey and live in the wilderness.
As soon as they left Egypt — right out of, literally, the gate and the doors of Egypt — they were confronted with danger on every side. Behind them, Pharaoh would send forth his army to wipe out the Hebrew people from the face of the earth. In front of them, a landscape and terrain that hemmed them in on every side, and left them there at the Red Sea with their backs against the water. They thought Moses had led them into a trap to be annihilated and wiped out by Pharaoh’s army. But to the contrary: God was leading their enemies, the Egyptians, into the trap. Even before they departed, in Exodus 14:3, God told Moses: “Pharaoh will say of the sons of Israel, ‘They are wandering aimlessly in the land; the wilderness has shut them in.'” In other words, they’re going to have no place to escape, and his army’s going to wipe them out.
But you know what happened next. Through the parting of the Red Sea, the Israelites escaped Pharaoh’s army — but they quickly learned there would be no quick escape from the wilderness itself, thanks to their nonsense and sin at the base of Mount Sinai. Numbers 14:34-35: “For forty years — one year for each of the forty days you explored the land — you will suffer for your sins and know what it is like to have me against you. I, the Lord, have spoken, and I will surely do these things to this whole wicked community, which has banded together against me. They will meet their end in the wilderness; here they will die.”
That’s what the wilderness meant for the Hebrew people: God’s sentence of death. For 40 years they wandered in the wilderness until the offending generations — two generations of Israelites — died off. Only after that could they enter the promised land. Not even Moses was permitted to go into the promised land, though he had nothing to do with their rebellion and unfaithfulness. Only after all of the offending parties were dead would they be allowed to pass through the River Jordan and establish themselves as a true nation in a new life.
In the meanwhile, they would live in a land populated by deadly animals, where crops could not grow, where days were hot and nights were cold, where drinkable water was scarce and hard to find, and where there was an absence of a dependable food supply. The wilderness was also the place where God would teach His people to trust in Him. It was a testing and a teaching. They had to trust Him for daily bread — manna — for clothing, for example, shoes that did not wear out, water from rocks struck by the staff of Moses, and for protection from all that sought to kill them in the wilderness: the animals, the landscape, the weather, and other nomadic tribes.
The wilderness was the place where God not only disciplined His children for their rebellion, but it was the place where He proved His love, mercy, and faithfulness, and taught them. You want to know why you’re going through a tough time? Why you’re agonizing with this or that problem, this or that crisis? It’s because you live in the wilderness, and this is the way it’s supposed to be. For in the wilderness, God does His best work in teaching His children that He cares for them. You don’t need much care when you’re rich and wealthy and happy and everything seems to be going well in life. No — it’s in the wilderness that we learn true Christian faith.
Thus He said in Deuteronomy 8:2-3: “And you shall remember all the ways in which the Lord your God led you in the wilderness these forty years, in order to humble you, putting you to the test, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not. And He humbled you and He let you go hungry, and He fed you with manna which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, in order to make you understand that man shall not live by bread alone, but man shall live on everything that comes out of the mouth of the Lord.”
That was their wilderness. It was at a particular time in a particular place — the wilderness wanderings. Even the promised land became a wilderness in that way too, by the way: one war after another, one fight after another, one tribe against another tribe, brought death and destruction and famine to the area.
Now look: our wildernesses are different. Our wildernesses are places where there’s physical, intellectual, emotional, and spiritual testing and hardship. Technology’s made it possible to live comfortably in deserts and difficult terrain, in winter and spring and summer and fall, where temperatures vary from very cold to very hot. It wouldn’t be so great down there in Tucson if, in fact, technology hadn’t provided a safe haven, an oasis, to live in. Yet even with our best efforts, everything in nature is very dangerous.
Remember: Isaiah’s primary use of the image of the wilderness is as a metaphor of God’s judgment, and all the kinds of dangers and injury that come to us in all forms in this world. Some are physical, others relational, others mental or emotional — and the worst kind is spiritual: the temptation, the sin, and the perpetual falling into it without repentance.
The landscape of our own respective wildernesses is a bit different from anyone else’s. We each are presented with our own combination of temptations and weaknesses and struggles and hardships and sins. You know what your wilderness looks like. You know the terrain. You know the landscape. You and I both stumble and fall in our wilderness, only to be picked up by the Word of God, by the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Then, of course, there’s the disappointment and the heartaches that we suffer over choices and lifestyles that have taken some of our loved ones away from the church, and even from our own families. There’s the sickness, pain, suffering, and death of departed loved ones that we must grapple with in this life. Also there’s heartaches and regrets and guilt over marriages and families that have been torn asunder. And of course there’s our own mortality, as day by day we grow closer to the end of our life in this wilderness wandering.
Our suffering in this fallen world — our suffering is real, and it’s part of the landscape of our lives. See, the truth of the matter is: the wilderness is in us, and we are in the wilderness.
But look at what Isaiah wants us to see. Look at the oasis he provides. After all of that Law in 39 other chapters, right there in chapter 35 he gives us an oasis of hope. This is the Sunday of hope — that’s why we light the pink candle, that’s why we have this text. Look at what he says: “The wilderness and the desert will rejoice, will shout for joy and blossom like a crocus. It will blossom profusely and rejoice with joy and jubilation.” In other words, the wilderness will cease to be the wilderness. It will become an oasis, a paradise, for all who believe. “The glory of Lebanon will be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They will see the glory of the Lord, the majesty of our God. Then the eyes of the blind will be opened, the ears of the deaf will be unstopped. Then those who limp will leap like a deer, and the tongue of those who cannot speak will shout for joy. For waters will burst forth in the wilderness.”
Through the prophet Isaiah, the Lord God is serving notice that the wilderness itself is going to die — but we, the faithful, will live to see a new heaven and a new earth, a new creation without any wildernesses at all.
It was against the backdrop of Isaiah and the wildernesses of life that the Son of God, Jesus Christ, came into the world. He entered the wilderness in His incarnation and birth. And coming out of His baptism, He goes into the wilderness for 40 days to be tempted, as were the children of Israel in the days of old. Jesus’s first Advent, you see, was a down payment on the promises of Isaiah.
When John the Baptist was in prison, suffering in his own dark wilderness, he wondered: was Jesus of Nazareth the Christ or not? Or should we look for another? So he sends his disciples to Jesus to ask the question: “Are you the coming One, or are we to look for somebody else?” And Jesus answered and said to them: “Go and report to John what you see and hear: the blind receive sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the Gospel preached to them.” He just said: “John, read Isaiah chapter 35, and look at Me.” It’s a down payment, a promise. God is proving in the person and work of Jesus Christ that He will accomplish what He’s promised to accomplish in Isaiah 35 and in many other places of the biblical text.
The Son of God came to live in the wilderness of this world. He walked among the physical, mental, and spiritual ravages of sin. He walked in a dangerous world that did not like the light — the light came into the darkness. And like the generations of old who had to die in the wilderness before the others could go into the promised land, so also the Son of God, Jesus Christ, had to die in the wilderness in order to make you and me worthy and able to enter the coming paradise. He emerged from His wilderness and His temptation without sin. Jesus was the man who knew no sin, but became sin for us.
That was the first Advent. That is not going to be how it is, by the way, when He comes again. The next time He comes, the text says, He will come with vengeance: “Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God, and He will come to save you.” When Christ comes again, He will come to defeat death, the devil, sin, and all those who have rejected Him — all of those who have refused the paradise provided through and by Him. For these enemies, the promise of vengeance is obviously very bad news. It’s news they don’t take seriously. They can’t envision that, number one, it’s true, and number two, it would apply to them — because they think they’re good, decent people. But if you watch TV, you’ll notice good, decent people are getting fewer and farther between these days. The wilderness is becoming more dangerous as day by day goes by.
But for us, we’re no longer enemies of God. Christ has reconciled us to God through the cross. “For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to Him through the death of His Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through His life?”
Here in Isaiah 35, we’re invited to rejoice in the coming of the Messiah. In fact, we’re invited to rejoice as the whole creation rejoices at the coming of the Messiah. Romans 8:22: “The creation itself will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has groaned and suffered the pains of childbirth until now.” The old wilderness, along with all humanity’s old sinful propensities, will come to pass, and the saints will rejoice. Verses 9 and 10: “The redeemed will walk there, and the redeemed of the Lord will return and come to Zion with joyful shouting, and everlasting joy will be on their heads. They will obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.”
All that mourning for our loved ones, all that grief and doubt produced by broken families, all the suffering inflicted by governments and principalities of this world, will all be wiped from the face of the earth. There’ll be no more wildernesses. There’ll be no more sin, no more sorrow, verse 10. There will be no weak hands or feeble knees, verse 3. No more blindness, deafness, lameness, muteness, verses 5 and 6. There’ll be no thirst, no ravenous beasts to devour us, verses 7 and 9. There will be no doubting that threatens to devour our faith, like John the Baptist. There will be only the children of God, gathered in the city of God, in joy and celebration for that which has come.
The proper celebration of Christmas, you see, is supposed to be a slight hint, a little glimpse, of the joyful celebration to come. People have lost the reason for that joyful celebration, but it should be a foretaste of the second coming of the Christ. These glimpses are only a dim preview of the fullness of the rejoicing that will come when Christ comes again. And Christ will come. He’ll come with vengeance to wipe out all the wildernesses of this world, and He’ll come to bring blossoms in bloom. He’ll come to save you — for your sins have been forgiven. Amen.
May the peace that surpasses all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.