On this second Sunday of Advent, we hear both a beautiful, optimistic promise from Isaiah 11:1-10, and an aggressive word of warning from John the Baptist in Matthew 3:1-12.
As people of God living in the year 2022, surrounded by all the things of this world, we need to hear both of those messages. We need to hear John’s call to the repentance necessary for true peace just as much as we need to hear Isaiah’s assurance that God’s promise of peace will be fulfilled. Repentance and life-change is not easy, but with God’s help, by the power of the Holy Spirit, we can find true peace, the peace that comes only through Jesus our Messiah.
Similar to last week, portions of this sermon draw from some previous sermons on this text. Here’s the sermon audio from Christ the King and video from Living Hope.
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our coming King, Jesus Christ. Amen
How many of you have a nativity set at home? We have a Fisher-Price little people one at home, but you can get all sorts of them, from beautiful hand-carved ones, to Lego, or dinosaur, or pretty much any kind you can think of.
And they all have the familiar characters of the Christmas story, right? There’s Mary, Joseph, the baby Jesus, usually some shepherds, three magi, a couple of animals, we all know the story.
Well, we all know Luke and Matthew’s versions of the story. Those two gospels tell the familiar version, the one with the manger scene, the one most of the Christmas carols come from. John’s gospel also has a Christmas story about Jesus coming into the world, the Word becoming flesh, but he tells it in more cosmic terms, the light of the world breaking into the darkness.
Mark’s gospel doesn’t even mention the Christmas story — he just starts out by saying this is the good news about Jesus the messiah, the Son of God.
And yet all four Gospels tell about this character we meet today, John the Baptist. Something about this guy and his message is important, perhaps even more important than the details of Jesus’ birth.
Now, if you listened to that reading, you might have realized John the Baptist is not a good fit for people who like their religion nice and organized.
He doesn’t appeal much to people who like to gather in the still, quiet peace of Christmas Eve, singing candles in the candle-light, people who like committee meetings to make sure everything is in good order.
John’s message is urgent, demanding: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” The way Matthew tells it, John the Baptist is a sort of wild man, a religious radical.
He’s wearing these strange, simple clothes made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, eating this unusual diet, and he’s out there in the wilderness, on the edge of society. There’s a sense of urgency, as if he doesn’t have time to worry about fitting in.
We know from Luke’s version who John’s parents were, and that he’s Jesus’ cousin, but in today’s reading, all we’re told is “John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea.”
He’s a mysterious, compelling figure, the kind of fire and brimstone preacher we don’t see much today, the kind of prophetic voice no longer common even then in Israel.
And then there’s his message. When I work on sermons, I pay attention to my wording, and I think about not offending people in church. (I may not always succeed, but I do try.)
John the Baptist doesn’t care. He’s never heard of political correctness. Pharisees and Sadducees, religious leaders, upstanding citizens curious about his message come to him, and he doesn’t hold back.
“You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”
You think you’re safe because Abraham is one of your ancestors?
You think God owes you something you because your parents raised you to go to church? Because you’re a charter member?
You think this message is only for those others, the really sinful ones?
“Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees, every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.“
This is not a nice message. You don’t go hear John preach, and shake his hand afterwards and say, “Nice sermon today, Mr. Baptist.”
And yet, wrapped up in his radical, abrasive warnings, behind his strange clothes and insults, there is a message of hope. There is a call to peace, a promise of new life. John’s demand of repentance is the first step, not the last word.
Repent…for the kingdom of heaven has come near. Repent, not to dwell in guilt or shame, but because God offers something better than the junk you’re hanging on to.
To repent means to turn around, to stop what you are doing. It means to apologize and say you’re sorry, but it’s more than that. Repenting means changing your life, re-orienting your life towards God. It means recognizing the kingdom of heaven is near, and so this world doesn’t get the last word.
This is a message for desperate people, for people in trouble. John’s first audience is not the well-off Pharisees and religious leaders; he’s speaking to the poor, the suffering, the ones at the edge of giving up. The people who urgently need a sign of hope, an indication that God cares about them too. John speaks to the ones who have been waiting for centuries for a messiah, a savior, the people at the end of their rope.
When you’re in a desperate situation, when you’re next to a hospital bed, when your house is on fire, when the enemy is threatening your homeland, you don’t want a nice, calmly mundane message that it’s ok, because God is somewhere watching over you.
When you’re out in the wilderness, you need something more blunt, more visceral. Repent, turn around, change your whole life, because the kingdom of heaven is near, and that means everything changes. God is breaking in.
John’s message is for the hopeless, the overwhelmed, the ones who need the world to be flipped around, the ones in the shadows who need the light to break through.
It’s the image in the first verse of the Isaiah reading. “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”
Remember when Isaiah is writing. By the time of Isaiah, Israel’s glory days are long past. The Jesse he mentions is the father of King David, the greatest king of Israel, but David’s reign was hundreds of years ago.
God promised David’s line, would endure, but in the centuries since David’s death, the monarchy has fallen apart. The kingdom has split, the people have been defeated and taken away into exile.
The promise that God gave to Israel of an everlasting kingdom seems forgotten. David’s family tree has been cut off into a dead stump.
This image of a useless stump is powerful. I have to show you my favorite stump picture – I took this a few years ago when Christin and I visited the Iowa state historical museum in Des Moines.
There’s lots of great stuff in the museum about Iowa history, Iowa troops in the civil war, Iowa’s Native American history, and then there’s my favorite exhibit, this stump.
If you can’t read that picture, it says, “Cut in Washington State, this section of spruce was unloaded in Des Moines by mistake while en route to the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago. The tree was 267 years old when cut, and has a diameter of sixty-six inches.”
I love that it’s there by accident and that it’s not actually from Iowa. It’s just a piece of old dead wood. Technically, it probably doesn’t count as a stump, but it’s what these verses from Isaiah remind me of. It’s dead. It’s hopeless. Nothing new is coming out of this. The promise is over.
But God’s not done. This, Isaiah promises, is not the end. God is still faithful, and death never gets the last word. A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. In the wilderness, in the moment when all hope seems lost, God will act.
Out of death comes life. Out of betrayal at a last supper comes the promise of God’s presence. Out of a brutal execution on a cross comes salvation and love for the whole world. Out of the tomb comes resurrection. And this new life, this new hope, this promise changes everything.
The wolf shall live with the lamb, a calf shall lie down with a lion, and a little child shall lead them all.
No more will there be war, or suffering, no more hurt or destruction on God’s holy mountain, in the kingdom of heaven.
No more school shootings, or cop killings.
No more cancer, or starvation, or flooding.
No more racism or hatred.
Instead, peace will prevail. Justice and mercy will triumph. The whole earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord. Everything changes.
On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious. Jesus fulfills that promise. Jesus is the king we’ve been waiting for.
Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near. Turn toward the light that is coming.
A voice cries in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” Don’t let anything block God from coming, don’t let anything stand in the way of God’s promise.
For those in the wilderness, this is good news. No matter how desperate the situation looks right now, no matter how bad whatever’s going on might be, no matter how dead the stump looks, God is coming.
Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near. Come quickly, Lord Jesus. Amen.
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