2022-12-12
Brooke Strong
Meditation Text...
December 11, 2022 Hamilton Coe Throckmorton
Isaiah 35:1-10 The Federated Church, UCC
This, as we say, is the third Sunday of Advent, the day we celebrate God’s gift of joy. And for some here today, this, I’m guessing, can be a season of dissonance. We hear stories of promise, of something coming, of life redeemed. We hear accounts of unexplained birth, of unanticipated reversals, of brokenness restored. We hear tales of pain healed, of limits erased, of longing fulfilled. And for some, this may well not sit right. Right here in our midst this morning there may someone who has recently been diagnosed with a serious disease. There is perhaps someone who is shattered in their grief. There may well be someone who knows their best years are behind them, and life just feels as though it’s all downhill.
If we’re honest, my bet is that all of us have felt like this at one time or another. And there may well be a suspicious bone in our body that wonders what all the fuss is about with Advent and Christmas. ‘I don’t see everything suddenly turning around,’ we may well think. ‘I don’t see God taking away all my struggles and bringing me some nice happy birth or rebirth. What’s up with that? Why aren’t things working out for me?’
In a season of what can sometimes seem like forced joy, real joy can seem a thousand light years away. So here’s what we do. Advent is a season of looking forward certainly, but it’s also a season of looking backward. Yes, we’re awaiting a future of wholeness and peace. At the same time, though, we’re also looking back to a birth that has already occurred.
It may seem almost too simple, but I suspect, during this season of preparation, that if we’re to reconnect with the joy God offers, we might well take a look back to the times when we have known the joy we crave. We’re invited to remember. The Bible is, from one angle, after all, the cataloguing of treasured memories. The people Israel remember that they were once slaves in Egypt, but that, by God’s grace, they were freed. They remember that they were once carried off to exile in a strange land, but that, by holy grace, there was eventually a stunning homecoming. Early followers of Jesus remembered that he was put to death, but that, by strange and mysterious grace, even the imprisoning tomb couldn’t keep him buried.
Followers of Christ remember these stories as if to say, ‘We have indeed known terrible pain and grief and loss. And yet every time, we have been delivered. God has renewed our lives and made us whole. It may not have happened in the way that we would have chosen. But something turned around. And it wasn’t we who made it happen.’ If we’re to experience joy, at least part of what we do is remember the times we have already known that joy.
So I invite you today to look back. Remember a time in your life that brought you great joy. Maybe it was marriage or childbirth. Maybe it was a special friend who came into your life. May it was a Thanksgiving or Christmas meal filled with laughter and warmth and love. And you’ll have a thousand variations of those. Real joy is, as we say, likely not something we made happen. Instead, it’s a gift that comes to us from beyond us. It’s not something we bring about; it’s something we receive. Joy may make us smile. It may bring a lightness to our being. But it always changes things, at least for the moment. It enhances our lives. It makes everything shimmer. So when the prophet Isaiah says, “everlasting joy shall be upon their heads” and that “they shall obtain joy and gladness” (35:10), this is God’s promise to make our lives gleam. No sorrow. No sighing. Brilliance. And light. And joy. All of which can be, and will be, ours.
Here’s something of what I mean. This is a man named Matt Harding dancing with people from all over the world, and it’s something that gives me joy. . . (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pwe-pA6TaZk&t=200s).
Joy comes in a zillion different forms. It’s surprise. It’s sheer grace. It’s a blessing there for us to receive. May we remember. May we celebrate. And may we give thanks to God whose very being is boundless joy.