"Who do you say
that I am?" Jesus asked. Simon Peter answered, "You
are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." And Jesus
answered, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! ... You are
Peter (petros), and on this rock (petra)
I will build my church..." Jesus then began to speak of
the rough road ahead. And Peter took him aside and rebuked him... "Get
behind me, Satan!" Jesus replied. "You are a stumbling
block..." (Matthew 16:13-23) May these words of this Peter be like a rock, |
Reclaiming "Salvation" and "Joy"
Message preached December 16,
2012
Long Green Valley Church of the Brethren
Glen Arm, Maryland USA
based upon
Isaiah 12:1-6 and
Philippians 4:4-7
"Surely, it is God who saves me,
I will trust in him and not be afraid.
For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense,
and he will be my Savior."
(Isaiah 12:2, sung as refrain - from "The
First Song of Isaiah," by Jack Noble White)
The year was 1983, a rather difficult one in the life of my family. Those words from Isaiah meant a great deal to me. In May my father died, after a long illness. The next month a tumor was discovered growing inside my ex-wife, Karen. Before that diagnosis, we thought she might be pregnant with our first child which, though unplanned, might have brought some good news to a bad news year. You can probably imagine some of our fears once we learned the truth.
We were blessed in that our fears were not realized - the tumor was benign and, as you well know, down the road came four children. Somewhere along the way, this verse entered, possibly read in a devotional, or shared one-on-one by the chaplain at seminary, or spoken in a chapel service there, where it was put to music (the refrain of which I just sang).
I also connect these words with another person, Nancy Kieffaber, an older student at seminary, a single parent with a teenage daughter. At about that same time a growth was discovered in her, only hers was not benign. I do remember that in some fashion these words of Isaiah formed a common bond between Nancy and Karen, a song of trust in their Savior, from whom (the apostle Paul once wrote) “nothing can separate us... neither death nor life ...” (Romans 8:37-39). Two years later I sat beside Nancy at graduation. Not long after that she went to be with Christ.
"Surely, it is God who saves me,
I will trust in him and not be afraid.
For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense,
and he will be my Savior."
In Isaiah, those words are a promise. The previous chapters in the book of his words (as we have received them) reveal a mixed blessing. The bad news was that Israel was going to be torn apart. The judgment for being unfaithful to the covenant was to be an uprooting, Isaiah said. God’s people will enter dark times. The good news, however, was that those “who walked in darkness” will see “a great light.” (9:2) The poetry of the promise, spoken as if it had already happened, sings out: “For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (9:6)
"Surely, it is God who saves me,
I will trust in him and not be afraid.
For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense,
and he will be my Savior."
We live in an in-between time. The “great light” has lit up the darkness. “A child has been born for us.” This messiah, we believe, has another name: Jesus. We hear Isaiah describe what we know in our hearts: “He was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity; and as one from whom others hide their faces he was despised, and we held him of no account. Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases; yet we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed.” (53:3‑5)
“...and he will be my Savior.” His light shines in the darkness. To say that, however, implies that there is still darkness. The messianic age has not fully come. The story of salvation is not yet finished. We live between his first coming and his second. On Christmas we celebrate the first time he arrived on the scene of our world, as a vulnerable infant, and before the manger we hear Isaiah’s promise, “and a little child shall lead them.” In the season of Advent, we prepare ourselves for his second coming, the completion of God’s great adventure."Surely, it is God who saves me,
I will trust in him and not be afraid.
For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense,
and he will be my Savior."
In this advent series of sermons I’ve sought to reclaim certain words of faith: “prophecy, repentance, evangelism, testimony.” Let me repeat, though, that when I speak of “reclaiming” them, I am not envisioning us as soldiers marching into battle, storming the enemy’s camp, and recapturing what has previously been taken from us. No, I am rather imagining a home and the act of opening the door and welcoming in a guest, as if this were a long-lost loved one.
This is especially true when it comes to reclaiming “salvation.” This is something we cannot seize. More to the point, it seizes us. When we respond to the question “are you saved?” we need to be clear that “salvation” is not something we grasp, rather it grasps us. It is not a possession. It is a relationship. “Listen!” Jesus says, “I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me.” (Revelation 3:20) There is our image for Advent, as we stand on the verge of the great adventure! We welcome our Savior into our home.
Of course, in the very next verse, our Lord continues, “to the one who conquers I will give a place with me on my throne, just as I myself conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne.” (3:21) By “conquer” or “overcome,” however, we do not mean that our “fight” makes us “right.” We don’t earn our way to that throne.
The apostle Paul once wrote that we are to “work out (our) own salvation with fear and trembling...” (Philippians 2:12) But, as Oswald Chambers once put it, that means that we “work out what God works in (us) -- not work to accomplish or earn (our) own salvation, but work it out so (we) will exhibit the evidence of a life based with determined, unshakable faith on the complete and perfect redemption of the Lord.” In order for us to work it out, make it visible, reveal it with our lives, we first need to open the door and welcome the One who works it in.
After he wrote of working out our salvation, the apostle Paul mentioned another word that is so very important to a life of faith - Joy. In so many ways, real joy is the evidence of God’s salvation “worked into us.” Is it any wonder that in the very next breath of Isaiah’s song of salvation, he brings up “joy”? - “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” (12:3)
Paul echoed those words: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.” (Philippians 4:4) Why? “I have learned to be content with whatever I have,” Paul continued. “I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well‑fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” (4:11‑13)
That’s a verse we need to hear as we approach Christmas. Too easily we lose track of joy because we have become overloaded with “stuff.” As you and I well know, “stuff” doesn’t bring happiness. Maybe for a moment, but not for all time. “Joy” isn’t enslaved by a need for “stuff, stuff, and more stuff.” Neither is it dependent upon whether or not everything we want to happen, happens. We can rejoice, even when things appear worst because, in the words of that Old Testament character for whom everything did go wrong, “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth.” (Job 19:25) With my sister in the Lord, Nancy Kieffaber, who is now among the saints triumphant, we can sing: "Surely, it is God who saves me, |
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Advent is a time of preparation. We’re all busy making our homes ready for Christmas: putting up the decorations, providing joy to mothers and children in the Family Crisis Center, baking cookies, singing carols to nursing homes, sending cards, buying presents for loved ones. These are important, don’t hear me say otherwise. On the other hand, are we preparing ourselves on the inside? Are we welcoming Jesus into our hearts, that he might work in God’s salvation, that he might provide us with real, abiding joy?
Let me offer an opportunity for you to open your door to his knock, to welcome your Savior in to the home of your heart. Perhaps you have never done so. Now is a good time, durig this season of preparation. Possibly your need today is to open your door a bit wider to him, to renew a relationship that is already there, but is in need of a fresh start. Whatever. You are welcome to do so as we sing, whether right there in your pew or – if the Spirit moves you – by joining me up front around our living Christmas tree. Please rise in body or spirit, and together let us reclaim God’s salvation and joy freely given to us all.©2012 (revised from
2000) Peter
L. Haynes
(you are welcome to borrow and, where / as appropriate, note
the source - myself or those from whom I have knowingly borrowed.)