Preparing

Sermon preached Sunday, December 9, 2018, the Second Sunday of Advent, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

Welcome to the Second Sunday of Advent. We light one more candle. The sanctuary is now full of decorations. We move along one more week towards the celebration of Christ’s coming among us. It’s a bit more waiting, a bit more preparing, a bit more asking ourselves what it means to make ourselves ready for the Christ child.

Enter John the Baptist: son of Zechariah, prophet, a truly odd man who lived an unconventional life on the edges of society. He said and did things that got him into trouble with religious and political authorities alike. In trying to introduce him, the Gospel writer ends up pulling a reference from the Prophet Isaiah. Luke uses Isaiah’s words to frame who John is. John is the voice crying out.

It’s important here to remember the context in which these words were proclaimed in Isaiah’s time. Isaiah spoke them while the Israelites were in exile. They were far away from home and had no idea if they would ever be able to go back. The Temple was destroyed. Their way of life had changed drastically, and hope was failing. It was in this environment that this prophet has the audacity to provide this vision for the future. It was in the midst of despair that Isaiah offers a confident expectation that things will change. Hear these words from Isaiah again, and imagine what it must have been like to hear them if you were desperately longing to return home:

³A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. ⁴Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. ⁵Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together…” (Isaiah 40:3-5a)

Do you hear the hope? Do you hear the care and the passion and the joy?

When John the Baptist arrived on the scene hundreds of years later, the people had returned to Judea, but there was still longing, still desperation. They were occupied by the Roman Empire and lived as a people kept down and subjugated. They lived their lives in constant fear of violence and persecution. These words from generations before seemed just as relevant as ever. The people in Jesus’ time, like their ancestors, needed hope, something to look forward to, some sign that things would get better.

In both cases—during the exile and under occupation—it is announced that God will make a way. A way for the exiles to return. A way for God to join the people. A way for the promised Messiah to come. A way forward into God’s promised future for all people.

Did you know that this past Monday, December 3^rd, was the United Nations’ International Day of Persons with Disabilities? I didn’t. I didn’t even realize that the Day was a thing, but it has been honored yearly since 1992. I honestly had never heard of it before this year. It wasn’t until two colleagues shared some of their own stories, linked to the day, that I discovered it.

These colleagues are talented pastors who live with disabilities: one was born with spinal bifida and has had to use a wheelchair all her life. The other was born with only one arm. They are tremendous pastors. They are thoughtful theologians who constantly remind me and so many others that wholeness is not somehow being physically “perfect” but about living into the full person God has created you to be, in whatever embodiment that might take.

They both offered up some beautiful and convicting reflections about this day and the many ways in which our world is still inaccessible to many. Just take this sanctuary, for example. Previously, I would have said it is accessible, and it is—for participants. But we have steps all over the chancel. If we wanted someone who used a wheelchair or who was unable to climb stairs to preside or preach or even sing in the choir, we would have to change the way we do things because the space and the ways we use it are not laid out with that in mind. It wouldn’t be impossible, but it would require effort. Accessibility is not often our default.

This struggle was lifted this up and linked back to the text from Isaiah, the text referenced in our Gospel reading this morning. The question was asked: “Did you notice that the reading from Luke 3 is about a God who makes Godself accessible by breaking down every barrier while instructing us to work together with God to make the road straight?”

(Pastor Beth Wartick in a Facebook Post Dated 12/5/2018)

In other words, God becomes accessible to each and every person in every way possible. No gravel or rocks to trip over. No stairs. No walls or barricades. No tricky narrow corridors or too-small doorways. Nothing is going to stop God from being with God’s beloved people.

Her insight made this passage even more beautiful to me…and it goes far beyond just people’s physical limitations! God breaks down intellectual and cognitive barriers. We don’t need to be able to read to hear God’s words of love and promise. We don’t need a big vocabulary or developed math skills. We don’t need an advanced engineering degree to celebrate the complexity of creation. God’s love is for all of humanity, regardless of how well a person thinks they might understand it.

In truth, we see that God is constantly working to break down anything and everything that might keep people separate, keep us desolate or desperate or alone. God works to bring us back into community with one another and with God’s own self.

Ask yourself, “What is trying to keep you from God?”

Is it the voice of self-doubt that says you’re not worthy of God’s forgiveness?

Is it the voice that says you’re not sure if you even believe any of this stuff anyway?

Is it the voice that says you’re not allowed to feel real grief or pain or anger or hurt because a good Christian should only ever feel joy and gratitude?

Is it the voice that says you’re not a good enough Christian? A good enough child? A good enough spouse? A good enough parent? A good enough anything?

God comes to do away with those voices. God comes to do away with the obstacles. God comes to do away with it all.

…and we are called and blessed to join in. We get to join in tearing down structures and standards that keep people with disabilities from full access to participation and leadership. We get to join in dismantling systems of injustice that keep us from seeing, celebrating, and embracing the full humanity of others. We get to join in shutting down all the messages that tell us we aren’t good enough for God.

We hear the voice in the wilderness. We are the voice in the wilderness—crying out for the world to hear:

‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.
⁵Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth;
⁶and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’ ”

All flesh. All humanity. All shall see the salvation of God. No exceptions.

This is preparing the way of the Lord.

Amen.