10 For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, 11 so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.
12 For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
13 Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall be to the LORD for a memorial, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.
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Good morning. Today is the 6th Sunday after Pentecost and the 17th Sunday of online worship. I know . . . I had to count the Sundays on my calendar twice because that seems like a very long time. It HAS been a very long time, maybe especially for those of us with little in-person human contact in this quarantine time.
During the Elders meeting last Sunday we talked about the Desert Fathers and Mothers who were hermits - voluntarily, not like us right now - and how even they had to gather together from time to time for human contact - to share communion and discuss any issues that had arisen in their community. Because even though they lived miles apart and rarely saw each other in person, they were community. Even though they lived miles apart and rarely saw each other, they came together to remind themselves that no human is completely self-sufficient. We need each other. In today’s world we do not need to walk miles in the desert to see another human. We have many ways of staying in contact, of being community. We have email and text messages, Facetime and Skype, Facebook and Messenger, Zoom and Google groups, Instagram, Twitter, Tik Tok, Kik, and probably others I don’t know about - and even hand written notes delivered by the Post Office. The Desert Fathers and Mothers had none of that. And yet, separated by miles and coming together in person only on rare occasions, they were still community. As are we. We come together here, on our computers and tablets and phones, to worship. To share the Lord’s Supper together. To pray and to sing. The Desert Fathers and Mothers lived in their caves for decades. We will not. Although we do not know how long our present reality will continue, and the uncertainty is crazy-making, we remember always that we are community, even in solitude.
So when I read the Scripture reading and saw verse 12, which begins “For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace” I thought to myself, “No, that’s not what it was like. There was no joy when we went out.” Because I was thinking of that last Sunday we were together in the sanctuary. I had to back up and consider this verse in the larger context. Isaiah 55 says to the exiles in Babylon, yes, you are in exile right now. Right now it is like the winter, the time when it rains and snows, which lasts as long as it needs to in order for the crops to be watered. But when that ends, when you have heard and absorbed my word, when you have inclined your ear and listened to me, when you have returned to me in your hearts, then you will be going home and this is what it shall be like! It will be wonderful! Beautiful, useful, healing plants will grow where before there were only weeds. The mountains will sing! The trees will applaud!
And you, you will go forth from your exile in joy, and return to Jerusalem in peace.
OK, now I can better see a relationship between this and our current situation. In exile, the people of Judah did not have a temple. They had no place where they could make their sacrifices. No place to offer their tithe. (We do, by the way. We have PayPal and bill pay and the postal service. Plenty of ways to offer your tithe. Just a reminder.). The people felt cut off and isolated. They cried out, “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” Through Isaiah, God assures them that it will be ok. This is a time of preparation for new growth. This is a time to become closer to God, to pay more attention to your spiritual life without distractions, “spend[ing] your money on that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy.” This is a time to remember why Church exists - to carry the Good News to the ends of the earth. My word, which goes out, he said, will not return empty, but will accomplish my purpose. “You shall call nations that you do not know, and nations you do not know shall run to you because of the Lord your God, for he has glorified you.”
I do not like living in exile. I’m pretty sure you don’t either. Certainly the people of Judah didn’t. And truthfully, the return to Jerusalem wasn’t quite as joy-filled and wondrous as Isaiah prophesied. They didn’t really know peace right away when they got there. There were issues, serious issues, when they returned. They couldn’t just return to the way things were when they left. They had deal with significant changes in their expectations. Some of them really didn’t like the changes. There were disagreements and resentments over the ways in which they were constrained to go forward. They had to make compromises, and no one really loves compromises. Which all sounds a bit more like what we can anticipate when we return to our Sanctuary.
But that’s down the road a piece. Right now we are living in exile. We are sitting under the willows where we have hung our harps, crying out to God, wanting to go back to our old lives. I know I am. I miss hair cuts (and color) and pedicures and shopping for myself! Eating in restaurants. Hanging out with friends. I miss my office. I mean, have you seen the stained glass window in there? I miss Sunday worship - all of it. Getting to my office at 6 am, writing my message, and preparing the sanctuary, saying hello to everyone as you wander in. I even miss the nervousness I feel every Sunday in the last 20 minutes or so leading up to the prelude. I miss sharing communion with you all, and potlucks in Fellowship Hall . . . I miss all of that. Although, to be honest, I don’t miss the stairs at all.
But, you know, there is that whole sending God’s word out, so that it might accomplish God’s purpose thing. When our worship is online and can be accessed any time, day or night, we are more available to “nations we do not know.” It is one thing to say to a friend, “Hey, you should come to church with me one Sunday.” It is a totally different thing to say, “Hey, we had the most amazing music in worship this week. You should check it out on YouTube.” Or, “I preached on that very thing a month ago. You can find it on our YouTube channel.” And we are saying these things not just to folks who live in Selma, but people who live in Nevada, or Virginia. To people who are not especially fond of Christians or any organized religion, but are open to listening. Who are open to maybe changing their mind. “Incline your ear, and listen, so that you may live,” said the Lord. Or even people who feel their sins are so great they are not worthy of coming to worship. “let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.” While we are in exile, while we are living our lives on the internet, while we are waiting out that season of rain and snow, we can reach these people, people who might not be reached, who were not being reached, who maybe didn’t feel like they would be welcomed no matter how many times we said “All means ALL.”
In this time of uncertainty, there are a lot of people looking for assurance that things will be ok. Looking for something to hold on to that will get them through the coming months, or weeks, or even just a day. We have that something. We have faith in God that when this time of exile is over, things will be well - all shall be well. Things will be different, no doubt. But all shall be well in the Lord.
Let us then focus our selves on sending God’s word out, like rain on the fields, speaking of God’s love and forgiveness, God’s mercy and compassion, in all the places we usually do not reach. For it will not come back empty, but shall accomplish God’s purpose. And all shall be well.
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