Listen to the reflection.
Bring clothes that can get dirty. An important part of the packing list when we go on Mission/Adventure trips. Whether we’re working in gardens or on painting projects or cutting up chickens at soup kitchens or playing with kids, we anticipate that we’re going to get a little messy. It’s part of the fun. It’s part of the adventure. I also go in with the hope that our clothes won’t be the only things that change. I also hope that we, the ones doing the work, will be changed...by the people we meet and the conversations that we have and the realities that we see in this world. I hope that we see the messiness of the world--the injustice and the hunger and the hopelessness--and are moved to make a difference. To do something that works toward God’s promised future--where good news is proclaimed to the oppressed and broken hearts begin to feel healed and the promise of liberty is heard and those who are held captive know that release is possible. It’s part of what I understand as our calling as Christians and it is one of the greatest privileges I have--to be on the front line to see the wheels turning in the heads of our kids--the thoughts beginning to form--“It doesn’t have to be this way and I want to do something to make a difference.”
When this text from Isaiah was written, God’s people were frustrated. They had returned to Jerusalem from exile. They expected to restore the city to its former glory. To rebuild the temple. They had hoped that economic disparities would be corrected; that the factions--both religious and political--within the city would work together, for good. And it wasn’t happening. It wasn’t happening fast enough; it wasn’t really happening at all. In exile they had grandiose visions of their return to the holy city. They had hoped for so much. And it just wasn’t happening. The injustices remained, the temple was not yet restored. They were losing hope. They were losing sight of the promise given to them by God. And, in the midst of that, a promise breaks through. In the midst of the messiness and disappointment and frustration, a promise is given to bring good news, to bind up, to proclaim liberty, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, to comfort, to provide, to give the accoutrements of gladness, rather than mourning.
Something really cool happens in the text year here. If we count the “to’s”--infinitives for you grammar geeks out there--there are seven. And in the Old Testament, seven is a number that symbolizes completeness. With these seven promises, those who heard this way back would have heard a promise that God would do everything to comfort and liberate, to restore and bring to completion. Even in the midst of their losing hope and their frustration, a promise broke through that God wasn’t done yet and that God would continue working to bring everything to completion--to usher in a day when those who mourn are comforted and broken hearts are healed and liberty is not only proclaimed, but enacted. When that which belongs to someone is restored to them and the oppressed hear good news and mourning turns to celebration. God will do everything to make this happen.
This is really good news. It’s really good news that we yearn for. It’s really good news that, if we’re really honest, we want to see come to it’s completion. Because, while we certainly see glimpses of these things happening, we also yearn for the day when it is true, really, wholly fulfilled. Even as we look to Christ and dwell deeply in faith that this promise has been made true, we still look around and realize that is one of those already and not yet promises. We trust that it is fulfilled and we wait for it to be fulfilled. We live in this in-between time, catching glimpses of its fulfillment, yearning for completion.
I suspect I am not the only one frustrated by the news. I’m saddened by news of famine and curable diseases claiming too many lives. I’m disheartened by the devastation of creation. I’m disappointed in leaders and in the ways so little seems to be done for those who need food and water and shelter and justice now. I’m frustrated by the ways that some see faith as something that is useless and silly, and by the ways others use it to harm and hurt those on the “outside.” I’m impatient and I’m sick of waiting. In this Advent season, I desperately yearn for the fulfillment of God’s promise that these injustices and disparities will come to an end. That good news will be brought and the mourning will be comforted and the prisoners will be released from whatever it is that holds them. The song “Lost in the Night,” asks in a haunting way “Will that day come soon?”
Maybe it’s the anticipation of Advent, maybe it’s the way the news seems to be an endless stream of hopelessness, but the yearning for this promised new day is forefront in my mind today. And so I keep reading and see “for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness.” As one commentator wrote, “A new future is possible because...God has provided the appropriate work clothes.”(1) It’s a kick in the pants. Stop sulking in the muck of the world and pull on the work clothes that God has given you. Get ready to get dirty. Start confronting those messages of despair and hopelessness and start proclaiming a better message. A message that is filled with hope and promise. A message that is true not just for some far off, distant, pie-in-the sky future, but for today. The truth is, God has given us the work clothes. Don’t we say in baptism we are clothed in Christ? We are given a commission to shine light in the darkness--not our own light, but Christ’s. We given a message to proclaim to a world that needs it so desperately--not our own message, but Christ’s. We know a promise that resonates deep within us and it begs to be told. A message where the captives are freed and the brokenhearted healed and the mourning comforted. A message of hope and promise. A message for today.
Though we think of that baptismal garment being white and pure, the truth is that those work clothes God gives us are meant to get dirty. They’re meant to get the stuff of the world all over them as we pull them on and proclaim the message--with our hands and feet and from deep within our hearts--that God’s reign has already come. That God’s promise of mercy and justice is for now. That God has given us the tools to work for justice, to bring good news, and to free those held captive by injustice, or disease, or despair. In Christ, we are made free. In Christ, we are given hope. In Christ, we are given what we need to do the hard work of ushering in a kingdom that has already, but not-yet, come.
Where you see a need, address it. Where you see despair, proclaim hope. Where you see a broken heart, do what you can to mend it. Where you see chains, unbind them. Where you see darkness, proclaim good news. Christ has given us the clothes. It’s our job to go get them dirty, and in doing so, we see the light of Christ shining brightly on this new day. Thanks be to God. Amen.
And a little video bonus: "Lost in the Night."
(1) Elna K. Solvang on www.workingpreacher.com for 12/11/2011
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