“RISE AND SHINE”

“RISE AND SHINE”

Text:

Isaiah 60:1-6

1 John 1:1-5

January 2008

There was once a pastor of a small country church in North Dakota who was known as one of

the thriftiest persons in Pembina County. In order to keep the air conditioning bills down in the

summer, every night the good parson would walk around the sanctuary opening the windows to

the cool evening air. Then each morning, he would just as methodically close them before the

sun began to beat down on the building. In fact, he was so thrifty that he didn’t want to waste

electricity switching on the lights for his nightly ritual. He had become pretty adept at navigating

in the dark from window to window. But sometimes, he would manage to bump into a massive

oak table at the rear of the sanctuary. Have you ever known one of those dear high-energy people

who always move fast, almost like a bee buzzing from place to place. That’s how the pastor

walked, even in the pitch dark. So after banging into the table at excess of four miles an hour,

he’d be left with a mean Charley-horse or a fairly stubbed toe. As he limped or walked stiffly

around the town of Walhalla, North Dakota, everyone would know that the pastor was trying to

save the church money again.

The story of Israel in the days when the 60^th chapter of Isaiah was written is a story of a people

wandering in darkness, at least spiritually-speaking; running into obstacles, stubbing their toes,

limping badly in their journey toward faithfulness in YHWH God. The celebrated golden days

when King Solomon ruled the nation in peace and prosperity, when Jerusalem was a city of

splendor, when the people worshiped in the magnificent temple Solomon had built..... those days

were long gone, and their glory evaporated into memory clouded with each passing generation.

Life in the prophet’s day was one of exile and servitude. The Medes and Persians had taken

occupation of the nation of Israel, fragmenting its sense of community and leaving the people

despairing and helpless. At the time of this morning’s writing, a trickle of exiles was being

permitted to return to their homeland. But any attempts to rebuild the temple and reestablish the

community were failing miserably. After a while, as Old Testament scholar Paul Hanson points

out: “Grave doubts regarding God’s power, and regarding God’s covenant promises to His people

began to surface.” The sort of grumbling which had been heard centuries earlier as the Hebrews

crossed the Sinai Peninsula was heard again: “Where is God in this mess? Why has God abandoned

us in our time of need?”

It so often happens just that way. Disappointments and tribulation in life lead to doubts about

God – about God’s presence, about God’s power, about God’s promises. One of our basic beliefs as

Christians is that God is connected with everyday life. We don’t understand God as “out there”

somewhere, but close and intimate. So when tragic suffering or bitter setbacks rear their ugly heads,

we naturally wonder: Where is God in this mess? Why has God abandoned me when I’m in such

need? At these times, it feels like darkness closes in – the darkness of harsh despair, the darkness of

empty loneliness, the darkness of consuming guilt, the darkness of ill health, or of shattered dreams.

God knows there are enough struggles and stresses in life to test the mettle of even the most

committed believer.

The setting for this morning’s passage is a dark night of the soul for the nation of Israel. The

people were feeling alone and dejected. Their vision of God was surrounded by what the prophet

calls “thick darkness;” a darkness so heavy and so dense that it hung shroud-like over the shoulders

of the people. Yet in the midst of such profound gloom, the prophet dares to speak of light. In the

clutches of night, he catches a glimpse of sunrise, dawning even over dark and helpless Jerusalem.

The sun is, as the prophet understands it, the very glory of the Lord radiating brightness from which

all darkness takes flight.

For the people, however, there was a clear disconnect between the prophet’s optimistic, even

Polly-Annish vision and the reality in which they were living. Their experience as a battered and

broken people had driven them into a spiritual hopelessness as deep as their darkness was thick.

They seemed unable to penetrate this shroud of melancholy. It’s not unlike the person who’s going

through the worst of life’s trials, and a pastor or friend or family member saying to them,

“Everything’s going to be okay. Hang in there. You’ll find some light at the end of the tunnel.” As

well-intended as these words are, to someone in the depths of despair, these words carry an empty

and hollow ring. Perhaps that’s how Isaiah’s words rang for his contemporaries - hollow, empty,

even cruelly insensitive.

Yet the prophet clings tightly to the rich metaphor of light as that which discloses the reality of

God: “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.”

Yes. “...darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise

upon you, and his glory will appear over you.” The point that Isaiah is trying to make is that God

remains metaphorically in control of the light switch, and that God’s face will not remain hidden. It

was true that the despairing people couldn’t find God in the midst of their thick darkness. But God

could and would find them. At the core of the prophet’s message is that when all is said and all is

done, only God can reveal God. Left to ourselves, we humans cannot penetrate the impenetrable

darkness. In our pain, we may esteem God distant, unknowable, inscrutable. For our part, we just

seem to stumble around - spiritually-speaking - banging into things and stubbing our toes. But God

in the mystery of divine grace comes to humankind in an act of supreme self-revelation, and in an act

of supreme self-sacrifice.

The prophet goes on to say that not only will God’s light - God’s glory - dawn upon the people,

but the people themselves will become a light to the nations, and the nations will be drawn to the light.

Isaiah proclaims that “A multitude of camels shall cover you, the young camels of Midian and

Ephah; all those from Sheba shall come. They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall

proclaim the praise of the Lord.”

On this Sunday of the church year we call “Epiphany,” we bring this prophecy of Isaiah together

with an event it foreshadows. You’ll recognize this episode usually associated with the birth story

(although it took place months, maybe years later) which is recorded in the 2^nd chapter of Matthew’s

Gospel: “Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold,

wise men from the East came to Jerusalem saying, ‘Where is he who has been born king of the

Jews? For we have seen his star in the East, and have come to worship him’..... and lo, the star

which they had seen in the East went before them, till it came to rest over the place where the

child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy, and going into the

house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then

opening their treasures, they offered him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.”

Like the Gentiles of Isaiah’s day, the wise men came to Jerusalem because they were drawn to the

light – by the very glory of God, by the very Son of God, born a child, destined the King – and they

came bringing gifts as a proclamation of “praise of the Lord,” just as the prophet of the Lord had

foreseen five centuries earlier. This is the epiphany, this self-revelation of Godself, in the midst of

thick darkness, in the person of a helpless and innocent child. As promised, God’s glory was revealed to

the nations through Israel. Today, we celebrate that God is made manifest to all humankind in and

through His Son Jesus. The people who walked and walk in darkness had and have seen a great light!

Craig and Charlie were on a hunting trip in northern Michigan one frosty autumn night. It was one

of those cloudy, moonless nights that seem to close in around you. The plan was for Craig and Charlie to

meet up with the rest of the hunting party at a remote site fifty miles from the nearest town. They had a

hand-drawn map to the site, but it had become wet when they’d crossed a stream and was now illegible.

For hours, the two men wandered over rough and barely-visible mountain roads, tripping over every rock

on the path, and every tree limb fallen across it. As it grew even colder and darker, they began to panic.

Then, off in the distance, they thought they saw a tiny point of light. As they crossed what seemed miles,

they could make out what appeared to be a campfire. As Craig and Charlie stumbled wearily out of the

thick night into the warmth and light of the campsite, their fellow hunters let out a cheer at their safe

arrival.

How many of us feel like we’re wandering in darkness today, straining to find even a point of light

toward which we might go? Our darkness may be despair and depression. Our darkness may be

boredom and malcontent. Our darkness may be aimlessness and lack of a sense of purpose. Our

darkness may be an illness which threatens our quality of life, or even life itself. Our darkness may

simply be a perceived absence of God. Isaiah proclaims the good news: God’s light has come! Earlier

words from the prophetic book of Isaiah point to our present reality: “The people who walked in

darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light

shined...... For to us a child is born, to us a son is given.”

On this first Sunday of a new year, on this day of Epiphany, on this day when we’re invited to partake

at the Lord’s Table the symbols of loaf and cup which reveal the self-sacrificing love of the Lord, let us

turn and run toward the light. We need not stumble in darkness, for God has disclosed a beacon of hope

in Christ. In the depth of our despair, whatever it may be, we may not be able to penetrate the thick