Sermon: Isaiah 40:1-11  (Advent 2B)

Christ Church Riverdale,  4 December 2005

The Rev. Robert C. Lamborn, Rector

^NRSV Isaiah 40:1 Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. ² Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the LORD's hand double for all her sins. ³ A voice cries out: "In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. ⁴ Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. ⁵ Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken." ⁶ A voice says, "Cry out!" And I said, "What shall I cry?" All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. ⁷ The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it; surely the people are grass. ⁸ The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever. ⁹ Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, "Here is your God!" ¹⁰ See, the Lord GOD comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. ¹¹ He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.

When I was in college I was a member of the marching band at the University of Georgia.  Now band of 320 members takes a lot of coordination--to work on a particular marching maneuver, everybody has to be ready at the same time, but a lot of college students are asserting their independence and challenging and rejecting authority.  So the director would stand up on a tower where he could see the entire practice field, and try and try to get us ready quickly and efficiently, only to have to wait.  It would taking encouraging and cajoling and pleading--and waiting, and finally the only way to get some of the 320 ready was just to go ahead and start.  Some of us band members, when we got frustrated with all of this, would start joking, “Hurry up and wait!  Ready . . . ready . . .  wait!”  Overall, more than 95 per cent of our time was spent getting ready--rehearsing, traveling, planning, and less than 5 % of our time was spent actually performing halftime shows, pre-game shows, parades, concerts, and all the rest.  Most of what it meant to be in the band was preparing, and waiting.

This image comes to me not primarily because of college football season (although my Georgia Bulldogs are conference champions this year) but because of what we heard from the Book of Isaiah this morning.  “Comfort, O comfort my people.  Prepare the way of the LORD.  Every valley shall be lifted up.  He shall feed his flock.”  These words it’s hard to hear without recalling their well-known settings in music, they’re hard to say without bursting into song.  The people of Judah are in exile in Babylon after being conquered militarily.  They hear prophetic words of comfort–comfort not only meaning feeling good but being strengthened.  God is coming, the glory of the LORD will be revealed, and all people shall see it.  This people, who are exiled from their homes, who are captives suffering oppression in a foreign land, who are withering and fading like the grass and flower--this very people hear words of hope, that God is coming with might, and with compassion, and the word of God will stand forever.  Good news like that can’t help but be sung out!

In the University of Georgia Redcoat Marching Band, over 95 % of our time was spent in preparation.  There were hours and hours and days and days of rehearsal, of going over and over parts of the music or drill.  And we spent hours and hours on buses going to places like Clemson, Auburn, Georgia Tech, the Cotton Bowl.  But twenty years later, what has endured for me is the preparation.  I remember a lot more from the rehearsals, the down times, the waiting, than I do about the performances themselves.  The relationships I came to cherish developed over those times of waiting during rehearsals and riding buses and lining up to march.  The experience of the band ended up being more about the preparation than about what we were preparing for.

The season of Advent is all about getting ready, preparing for Christ to come, both in glorious majesty at the end of the world, and as a tiny baby in humble circumstances.  I don’t think it’s any accident that there are four Sundays of Advent, but only twelve days of Christmas.  I think God wants us to prepare and wait; I think God wants to be revealed to us as we prepare and wait--before we feel like we’re ready, before we have fully prepared, before we think we have it all together--so that we know that God’s grace, God’s love are where the real power is, not in our own selves.  

As Christians we are continually in the process of preparing for God to come, a process of becoming what God has called us to be, of waiting for that call to be fully realized.  You know, there’s more than one way to wait.  When I was a kid, my grandparents would come to visit at different times, but particularly at the holidays.  There would be preparations to make–making sure the house was ready, putting sheets on the fold-out couch, getting food prepared, wrapping their presents, making sure there was room in the fridge for my grandmothers pumpkin pie–but the worst part of waiting, the most anxious and boring part,  was when all the preparations were done, and I would sit in my room and wait for their car to come up the driveway. 

We can make choices how to wait.  As my family got ready for my grandparents we were enjoying their visit already–we were living our relationship with them--in the anticipation.  This anticipatory waiting is the opposite of the clock-watching, finger-drumming, blood pressure-raising attitude toward waiting that prevails in our culture.  This anticipatory waiting is an opportunity: an opportunity  to grow in knowledge and love and service, an opportunity to abide in peace and holiness   as we sing God’s deliverance to come.  God’s grace and love will not be confined to the future; they break in on us here and now; they come to us in the midst of preparation.  This anticipatory waiting makes it an occasion of grace to hear, “Ready, ready . . . wait!”