The Promise of Light

Isaiah 9:1-7

Who here loves Christmas music? Ok, now I need you to be honest. How long have you been listening to Christmas music. I mean, if you like Christmas music, I’m assuming you’re listening to it now. It’s after Thanksgiving, we’re in Advent, and it’s December. By all accounts, its Christmas music season. But who started listening to it before Thanksgiving? Ok, now who started listening to it before Halloween? Anyone? There are some people who figure if we’re past the Fourth of July they’re good. They can go ahead and start listening to Christmas music.

But not everyone likes Christmas music, and one young man had a very interesting reason for not liking it. Christian leader and writer Russell Moore overheard a young man complaining about how much he disliked Christmas. But his anti-Christmas mood wasn’t centered on holiday stress or excessive materialism and commercialism; it was all about the music. At first Moore thought he was in the presence of the Grinch, until the young man explained why he found the music so bad. “Christmas [music] is boring because there’s no narrative tension,” he said.

Russell Moore commented:

For him, the [shallow] lyrics of our Christmas songs couldn’t encompass [the world’s heartache]. Simeon the prophet never wished anyone a “holly-jolly Christmas” or envisioned anything about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. We ought to make sure that what we sing measures up with the “narrative tension” of the Christmas story.

In a time when we seem to learn of a new tragedy each day, the unbearable lightness of some of our Christmas music seems absurd to the watching world. But, even in the best of times, we all know that we live in a groaning, struggling universe. Just as we sing with joy about the coming of the Promised One, we ought also to sing with groaning that he is not back yet, sometimes with groanings too deep for lyrics.

We have a rich and complicated and often appropriately dark Christmas hymnody. We can sing of blessings flowing “far as the curse is found,” of the one who came to “free us all from Satan’s power.” Let’s sing that, every now and then, where we can be overheard.[i]

As we come to this second Sunday of Advent – the season of preparing our hearts and minds … and our homes … for the celebration of Christ’s birth, we’re starting a short series of sermons I’ve simply called “Light.” Light plays an important role in our celebration of Christmas, doesn’t it? We use candles, put lights on our trees and sometimes on our houses. At Christmas, we use light to celebrate the birth of Jesus, who called himself the “light of the world.”

Here’s the thing – light is most noticed when it shines in the darkness. If we’re emphasizing light, we are by definition acknowledging the presence of darkness. In July, I can go out to the barn to bring horses in at 9 pm and not need to turn on any lights, because it’s still light out. In December, I need to turn on lights if I’m going out there at 5 pm so that I don’t trip over something because it’s already dark. We notice light the most when it shines in the darkness. Flashlights and candles aren’t needed in the middle of the day.

If we’re going to celebrate the birth of the Light of the World, we have to acknowledge that this world is really dark. Yes, there is sometimes beauty, even in the dark. There are many good and beautiful things in this world. But there is a lot of darkness. This world is full of pain, struggle, suffering, and injustice. Just think about the amount of pain and suffering we’ve witnessed and fear we’ve experienced here in northern Michigan in the past 6 months. We keep making national news headlines, and not in a good way.

Truth is, it isn’t all warm and cozy, with chestnuts roasting over an open fire and peace and goodwill everywhere. There’s a lot of pain and struggle and fear, and when Jesus calls himself “the Light of the world,” he acknowledges that. Turn with me to Isaiah 9:1-7. We’re going to start with Vv. 1-2.

As the prophet Isaiah points the attention of the people of Israel forward in time to the coming of the messiah, to the coming of Jesus, he acknowledges the pain of the time they are in. There WILL BE no gloom or anguish or darkness in the Kingdom of God, but there is NOW. Those who once walked in darkness, who lived in a land filled with darkness, will step joyously into the light.

Now, I want you to see something here. Isaiah emphasizes two territories in Israel – Zebulun and Naphtali. Zebulun and Naphtali were two of the tribes of Israel. When Israel came into the Promised Land, each tribe had its own territory in the land. A little bit like our own states within the United States. They had distinct boundaries but they weren’t distinct political entities like our states are.

Zebulun and Naphtali were in the northern part of Israel and West of the Jordan River. Naphtali bordered the entire western shore of the Sea of Galilee, and Zebulun was just south. The Jordan River flowed through the area, so it was a lush and productive agricultural area.

But more important than that, the main trade route from Mesopotamia to Egypt flowed through them both. It was an area that produced a lot of food and through which tons of goods flowed, both goods produced in Israel and in other countries to the north as well. This all, of course, made it very desirable land for other countries, so when the world powers sought to conquer the land that was now divided into two countries that couldn’t get along – Israel and Judah – Zebulun and Naphtali were the place where conquest started.

When Isaiah wrote these words, the Assyrian Empire was the primary world power, and everyone knew that she was turning her attention to the west … planning to make the lands of Israel and Judah and Syria and the land of the Philistines her vassals. And if they wouldn’t comply, they would be conquered. The kings of Israel and Syria knew this and sought to form a regional alliance to try to stand against the coming Assyrian onslaught. But when they approached Ahaz, king of Judah in Jerusalem, he resisted, preferring to stay independent and honestly hoping to avoid notice. Lay low and try to avoid notice was his approach.

That angered the kings of Israel and Syria, and they took up arms against Ahaz and Judah themselves, planning to depose Ahaz and install a new king in Jerusalem who would be more sympathetic to their approach to the looming problem of Assyria. So now Ahaz is fearful of both the Israel-Syria alliance that is marching against him AND Assyria, so what does he do? He appeals to Assyria to protect him from Israel and Syria, because Israel and Syria were targeting him specifically. So Assyria marched against Israel and laid waste to the land, and they started in … Zebulun and Naphtali.

In Jesus’ day, that region was known as the region of Galilee. Nazareth, where Jesus grew up, was in Zebulun. The region first conquered by Assyria, the region laid waste when the Assyrians dismantled Israel and took her people into captivity was the region in which Jesus grew up and in which he spent most of his time in ministry. His first disciples – Peter, Andrew, James, and John were Galilean fishermen. Capernaum, Jesus ministry base, was in Zebulun and Naphtali.

When God stepped into this world in the person of Jesus, he stepped into a part of the world that had been laid waste. When the light of the world came into the world, he was raised in a place that had experienced deep, deep darkness.

That’s what God does. He brings his light into the dark places of our lives. Light dispels darkness. His love and his grace and his mercy and his very real and complete forgiveness is intended to transform and light up the darkest of dark places in our lives and in this world. That’s why the people of God have been willing to take the good news of Jesus into the dark and dangerous places of this world. That’s why the people of God have risked it all developing the concepts of orphanages to care for abandoned, unwanted children; and hospitals to bring healing to those who previously had to be exiled outside of their community to keep sickness and disease from spreading.

God wants to bring his healing light into the darkest places of your life too. The places where my brokenness and sinfulness is most prevalent and powerful. Jesus brings light to my own Zebulun and Naphtali, my dark and desolate places. He touches me in my broken places, he heals my sick and sinful places. And when that happens, the result is joy.

Look at V. 3. This isn’t a shallow joy. Deep, abiding joy. A joy that nothing this world throws at me can steal. This kind of joy doesn’t mean I’m happy every day. It means that our commitment to Jesus is deeper than the darkest days we may experience in this life, because his commitment to us is deeper than the darkest of dark places in this universe.

Psalm 139 paints a beautiful picture of joy. “Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me,     and your right hand shall hold me. If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,” even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day,     for darkness is as light with you.”

There is no darkness that can hide us from the light of Christ. For those who WANT to hide, that can be a fearful thing. If God is untrustworthy and mean and filled with avarice, this is terrifying to everyone. But if God is full of a love that seeks to heal and deliver us from the darkness, it is a source of comfort, even if our eyes sting when the light of Christ first shines in our lives.

Darkness leads to fear. That’s why we have nightlights, right? But in the light, we find joy. Look at the images of joy that Isaiah uses. The Assyrians were known for removing conquered peoples from their land and settling them elsewhere, and then bringing in outside people to settle in the land just conquered. No one stayed in their own land.

And yet, instead of depopulation and a people intermarrying with others and dwindling away, Isaiah pictures a nation that swells with people and grows. Instead of a meager harvest and crops burned by invading armies, not enough to support the people, he pictures an abundant harvest. Instead of lack there is abundance. And instead of being the spoils at the hands of invaders, he pictures the people dividing the spoils of war among themselves. The picture is not one of deportation and enslavement, but of abundance and freedom!

Into the darkness of sin and brokenness in our lives, into the darkness of sin and brokenness in this world, comes the light of Jesus. And that causes our hearts to swell with deep joy.

Now, look at Vv. 4-5. The yoke of slavery has been broken. Slavery to what? To sin and to oppression. In Christ, sin is defeated and our relationship with God is restored. And in Christ, oppression is defeated and our relationship with one another, relationships marred by racism and sexism and oppression, relationships between men and women, rich and poor, young and old, and relationships between the peoples of the earth are restored.

This world is filled with people in darkness and despair, overcome by the enslaving yokes of sin and oppression. The Assyrians were arrogant and cruel, and they bragged about the heavy yoke of slavery they imposed on the people they conquered. But one greater has destroyed that yoke. Jesus said, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:29-30).

Jesus treats us gently and lightly, not harshly. And that in itself is a gift of grace. Because you and I, we deserve the harshness of judgment. But when we admit our need of a savior, and allow God to bring his light into our lives, we find peace and joy, lightness and gentleness. His is a yoke of gentleness and kindness. And in Christ, violence and destruction will come to an end. Garments bloodied by war are burned in a fire.

Isaiah is actually describing here the fullness of what Christ will accomplish, in his first coming as an infant, in his death on the cross, and in his victorious return on a day that is still to come. That which is born in the manger will come to its fullness. God’s saving work WILL be completed. Christ WILL return. His second coming is just as sure as his first.

But salvation is born in a manger. It comes first as a child. Look at Vv. 6-7. A child will do what no amount of human striving, no amount of human wisdom, no amount of human strength and power would do. A child would outfox the wise, would overpower the strong. And this child would be a son. But not just any son. Not the son of a prophet or priest or king. Not even the son of Caesar himself. This child would be the Son of God.

God doesn’t deliver us from arrogance and war and oppression and violence and coercion and sin by becoming more arrogant and warlike and oppressive and violent than we are. No, he does it by becoming vulnerable and transparent and humble. The Jews expected a mighty warrior to save them. They got a child instead. But this child isn’t just any child. He is our wonderful counselor. He is God’s wisdom embodied. The babe in the manger is the mighty God. He is our hero, God’s true might in human flesh.

He is able to absorb all of the evil that Satan and this world can throw at him, until there is no more evil to throw. He is our everlasting father. He is our eternal and loving, sacrificial father. And he is the prince of peace. And he establishes peace not through force, but through humility and vulnerability.

Now, notice the last phrase of V. 7. He is the embodiment of the passion, the zeal of God. Jesus wasn’t a half-hearted attempt at our salvation by a bored and distracted God. No! He is the be all, end all, full engagement of God in the affairs of this world. He is the full resource of the Kingdom of Heaven brought into this world to save us, not to destroy us.

God is fully powerful enough to destroy, if destruction were his goal. But it isn’t. No, God seeks to restore his relationship with us. With me. With you. And so our wonderful counselor, mighty God, everlasting Father, and Prince of peace experiences the most human of experiences – a birth from the womb of a mother. Suckling at her breast. Growing under her tutelage. He is fully God, and also fully human. He is the light of the world, God WITH us. Let’s pray.

[i] Russell Moore, “The Problem With Our Holly Jolly Christmas Songs,” RussellMoore.Com: Blog (11-29-16)