December 22, 2019: Signs

December 22, 2019                                                                  Rev. Rhonda Blevins, DMIN

Signs

Isaiah 7:10-16

Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz, saying, Ask a sign of the Lord your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven. But Ahaz said, I will not ask, and I will not put the Lord to the test.  Then Isaiah said: “Hear then, O house of David! Is it too little for you to weary mortals, that you weary my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.  He shall eat curds and honey by the time he knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good. For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted.

______

We see him come, and know him ours

Who, with his sunshine and his showers,

Turns all the patient ground to flowers.

Turns all the patient ground to flowers.

These words by poet Robert Herrick were written in the 1600’s and set beautifully to music by contemporary composer John Rutter. Poets and musicians have a gift—a knack for noticing and expressing deep truths that the rest of us sort of feel—sort of know—but can’t quite articulate or express. “We see him come and know him ours,” writes the poet. Is this true? Do we see him come? Do we recognize the signs?

I have a beginning reader in my house. He recently turned six, and he gets excited when he discovers that he can read something. Just over the past week or two he has discovered that he can read most road signs. “What does that one say?” I’ll ask. “Stop!” He’ll yell in delight. “How about that one?” “School z-z-zone!” “Yes! That’s right! Good job!” And on it goes. My six-year-old can read most of the signs.

My question this morning is, “Can we?” Can we read the signs?

We have been following the lectionary texts from Isaiah throughout Advent. To drive home the truths we have gleaned from Isaiah, I have placed visuals on the front of each bulletin:

·        Advent 1: “Come let us go up to the mountain of the Lord” from Isaiah 2 in which Isaiah offers a guiding vision for the realization of God’s kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. The next three lectionary passages from Isaiah throughout Advent have been signs pointing to the realization of that vision:

·        Advent 2: “A shoot will grow from the stump of Jesse” from Isaiah 11.

·        Advent 3: “Streams in the desert” from Isaiah 35.

·        Advent 4 (today): “His name shall be Immanuel” from Isaiah 7.

I don’t know if you caught the humor in today’s passage. You may remember that King Ahaz is in a bad spot. His nation is facing threats from every angle and the prophet Isaiah is encouraging Ahaz to not get sucked into an unwise alliance against the powerful Assyrian empire. Ahaz doesn’t know what to do in what appears to be a lose-lose situation. Through the prophet Isaiah, God offers King Ahaz a sign—an extraordinary sign, “as deep as Sheol or high as heaven.” Ahaz rejected that offer (my paraphrase) “Yeah, no thanks.” With feigned piety he responds, “I will not put the Lord to the test.” So God says, “OK, here’s your sign.” Ha!

I think many (most?) of us are like King Ahaz. “I don’t need no stinkin’ sign. I got this.” Even the most religious of people (including yours truly) are guilty of trying to go it on our own. Americans may be the worst with our “bootstrap” mentality. “Who needs God? I’ll just pull myself up by the bootstraps! Wait, I’m not wearing boots.” Can you envision God rolling God’s eyes?

Back at home . . . the same six-year-old has gotten really good at tying his shoes but getting to this point has been an exercise in frustration for him and his mother. When I was first working with him on this life-skill, I would start to show him how to do it, and he would slap my hand away and declare, “I can do it!” “Fine,” I would say, allowing him to try knowing good and well he couldn’t do it. Turns out, I was right. He couldn’t tie his shoes without being shown how. Funny how that works. And although I allowed him to try to tie his shoes in vain, I would not let him leave the house without shoes. School teachers tend to frown on kids showing up without shoes. Go figure.

This “go it alone” mentality demonstrated by petulant children persists throughout adulthood for many of us. Certainly, King Ahaz had delusions of grandeur as he rejected God’s offer of an extraordinary sign “as deep as Sheol or high as heaven.”

“Fine,” said God. “No extraordinary sign. Got it.” God honored the King’s refusal. But in the same way I honored my kid’s foolishness yet still insisted he wear shoes, God insisted on some kind of a sign, albeit an ordinary sign. “No extraordinary sign. Got it. But here’s an ordinary sign for you. Look over there at that pregnant young woman. The baby will be named Immanuel. By the time he’s weaned, this problem will be over.”

The ordinariness—the unremarkable sign God gave to Ahaz through Isaiah makes it all the more remarkable. You see, Isaiah was a poet. Isaiah could look around and find God’s presence in something as ordinary as a pregnant young woman.

What we can learn from this text is that signs of God’s presence are all around us, if we can have eyes to see.

Advent is a reminder to look for the signs, and they are all around us. Emmanuel is come, god is with us. We must pay attention to the signs. Signs of God’s presence with us are usually quite as ordinary as sunshine and as banal as showers:

We see him come, and know him ours

Who, with his sunshine and his showers.

Centuries later, the Gospel writer, Matthew, would recall this passage from Isaiah when he wrote of Jesus’ birth. Matthew would tell of an angel visiting Joseph, instructing him to marry Mary. Explaining why all this happened, Matthew wrote (Matthew 1:22-23):

All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:
“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,”
which means, “God is with us.”

I love that he translates for us, “Emmanuel . . . means ‘God is with us.’” How do we know?

Signs. Extraordinary, and especially ordinary signs. What do I mean by “ordinary signs?”

·        I was on a trip to Utah when my father died nearly 20 years ago. I didn’t have a car, so a friend gave me a ride to the airport. That was a sign of God’s presence with me.

·        I hadn’t left a car at the airport back home, so another friend picked me up and drove me three hours to my parent’s house. That was a sign of God’s presence with me.

·        A friend flew in from Texas to be with me throughout the funeral and burial. That was a sign of God’s presence with me.

·        Many friends of mine and of my parents attended the funeral when they didn’t have to. That was a sign of God’s presence with me.

·        Friends sent sympathy cards. That was a sign of God’s presence with me.

·        Even though I didn’t fully recognize all these expressions of love and grace as signs of God’s presence with me at the time, they were still signs of God’s presence with me.

I am convinced that of all of the promises from God throughout the scriptures, the promise of God’s presence is the most powerful promise.

As a preacher, sometimes I am called upon to speak hope into tragedy on a personal level, and sometimes on a national level. If I am honest, I can’t claim that “everything is going to be OK,” because “OK” may look different for you than it does for me. I can’t claim that “everything will work out,” because “worked out” may look different for you than it does for me. I can’t claim that joy will return, I can’t declare that peace will manifest, if I’m honest. But here’s what I know—and this I proclaim today: in the midst of life’s most difficult moments: Immanuel. God with us.

·        When light gives way to darkness: Immanuel—God with us!

·        When joy gives way to sadness: Immanuel—God with us!

·        When hope gives way to despair: Immanuel—God with us!

·        When faith gives way to doubt: Immanuel—God with us!

Thanks be to God!

The promise of God’s presence in Psalm 23 is why it remains perhaps the most beloved Psalm among people of deep faith and nominal faith:

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . . thou art with me.

My dear friends, Immanuel—God with us! Can you read the signs?