The Servant Song: Isaiah 42:1-9 - Third Sunday in Advent

During my November vacation week, I spent an afternoon with Elizabeth and a team of volunteers working on the Art in the Alley project—which is part of a larger effort to bring new life to downtown New Kensington by painting brightly-colored murals on the walls of buildings. 


I wouldn’t dare call myself an artist, but Elizabeth and I can work a paint roller. For us, it was very satisfying to be part of a larger effort to bring some new life to the struggling city.


It’s going to take a lot more then brightly-colored murals to reverse decades of economic devastation.  But the difference between hope and despair is people who care. What our communities need even more than jobs and new businesses are servants. People who are dedicated to a cause that is larger than themselves…


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Today’s sermon text is one of the many suffering servant songs in the book of Isaiah.


We identify this suffering servant as Jesus, and rightfully so—because Jesus himself quotes this very text when explaining to the people who he was. But that meant little to the people the prophet Isaiah spoke to, who lived over 500 years before Jesus’s birth. 


The fifty-year exile of God’s people in Babylon was now over. A new king came to power who permitted the people to return home and rebuild their cities—which was the very outcome they had been praying for. But how do you start over from nothing? Jerusalem had been destroyed, and those who returned were likely going to find someone else living on their ancestral lands. In many ways, life was going to get harder because the exile was over. 


Therefore, the purpose of the servant song was to give meaning to their suffering. The suffering servant is the entirety of God’s people—and in their suffering, they will fulfill the purposes for which God redeemed them—to a light unto the nations. Through suffering, God will bring forth new things to life which will reveal his glory. 


This is a truth as old as time for the people of God—but to endure hardship with such a firm sense of purpose is something easier said than done…


For better or worse, your outlook on the future has a strong influence on how you live your life today. If you’re convinced that the future promises nothing else but pain and devastation, you are going to live your life in such a way as to reduce your chances of experiencing pain and suffering. Survival will be your number-one objective, and you won’t be bothered with the welfare of others beyond those closest to you. 


I don’t think any of us realize just how influenced we are by fear and despair. In a way, I think we’re brainwashed into it—by the 24-hour cable news, all the decaying buildings and abandoned factories, and by the simple fact that most of the change happening in the world has not been for the better. 


But remember—Jesus was born into a chaotic and dangerous world. It was in that time that God chose to bring something new to life—which was his own self. He was born a fragile baby, forced to flee from the genocidal wrath of King Herod, despised and rejected by the people he came to save, dying in utter helplessness on the cross. And yet, in weakness, suffering, and death, God destroyed the power of death and sent forth his church to go and change the world. Not with armies and weapons, but through love and service. 


If you are hearing these words today, then you are blessed beyond measure. No matter how hard life may be for you right now, there are always people who are suffering worse. These are the people you were called to serve. We all have our struggles, and some struggle more than others, but Christ’s power comes alive in everything that is painful, scary, and difficult. Our struggles as a congregation do not hinder Jesus’s power; they magnify Jesus’s power. The difference between hope and despair is people who care—and you are making a difference.


On Monday, I attended the second-to-last GriefShare meeting of the fall season. Everyone’s been saying that the spirit of hope among the members has never been stronger. Ordinary people who’ve suffered terrible losses have found God’s healing in each other. And now, they’re grieving the end of the season. A gentleman who attended the group for the first time asked, “why can’t we have something like this every day of the week? We need it every day of the week. We can do so much good for each other.”


I couldn’t agree more, even though I don’t know how we could accomplish that. What I do know is that people are hurting and desperately lonely, going through life without a sense of purpose, their souls sick with despair. God doesn’t want it to be this way, and we shouldn’t be content for it to stay this way. 


Why should we wallow in despair when God is already doing new things, and eager to do even more? Why should we allow ourselves to be so busy and wrapped up in our own affairs to join with other people of hope and goodwill to start making things better around here?


We are the Body of Christ. We are a light to the nations. God’s grace is made perfect in our weakness, and our struggles will magnify Jesus’s power. The difference between hope and despair is people who care. Be a servant and change the world. 

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