"Rescue and Reign"

Morning, Church.

This morning we're continuing our Advent sermon series,

examining the prophecies of Isaiah.

Our passage is from Isaiah chapter 9, verses 1 through 7 this morning.

Isaiah 9:1–7

You can find this passage on page 536 in one of the Pew Bibles in front of you.

If you're new to the Bible, the big numbers you see on the pages of the chapters

and the smaller numbers of the verses,

so you can also use that to help you navigate to the passage as well.

As you're finding your way there, let me open us up with a word of prayer.

Father God, we thank you that you have revealed yourself to us through your word,

and we thank you that in this season of Advent we can pause to reflect

on the coming of your word through the birth of Jesus.

We ask this morning that you would be present with us

and that the light of your gospel would shine,

that you would be glorified and we would be edified by the study of your word.

We pray that you would reveal yourself to us through your word this morning,

and we pray this in the name of Jesus.

Amen.

Well, the Christmas season is in full swing now,

and every year the season brings with it a flood of activity.

And most likely with that activity comes a flood of emotions.

Between the Christmas parties, the family get-togethers,

traveling, shopping, distributing cards, and packing ourselves full of sugar,

we can find ourselves staring down the barrel of the season with anticipation,

dread, or maybe a little bit of both.

But if we slow down a bit and we dial into the tone of the season,

we may also find ourselves feeling a sense of transcendence,

a sense of hope in something beyond our little sphere of influence.

One of my favorite activities during the season is driving around

and checking out the light displays in town.

In a season when the sun is setting very early in the day,

Christmas light displays bring an added sense of joy in the darkness.

It engages the community, and it adds flavor and distinctiveness

that we don't otherwise see in our neighbors' homes.

It feels like we can almost know our neighbors in a new way.

There are people in our town that I know nothing about,

but I know they're the kind of family that feels a sense of representation

by penguins and polar bears or snowflakes or the Grinch

or my favorite so far this year, a saxophoning snowman.

When we take the time to pause and examine the glowing lights,

we might find that the cold air and the nagging darkness

are momentarily suppressed by warmth and joy.

There's a wonder in the Christmas season that I think we all long to embrace,

even in the midst of our busy schedules,

and even more so in some of the brokenness

that can be so magnified by the stress of the season.

Unfortunately, things like Christmas light displays

don't really satisfy this hunger for transcendence.

The momentary feeling of hope or joy

fades as we realize it's still cold,

it's still dark,

and maybe our neighbor isn't actually as cool

as his saxophoning snowman.

We're the neighbor, by the way.

But our passage today helps us locate the hope of this season

in its rightful place.

There is a light that shines in the darkness,

one that brings knowledge of its source.

And with that knowledge,

hope and a new life and transformation

So let me read for us our passage.

Again, that's Isaiah chapter 9, verses 1 through 7.

Isaiah 9:1–7

But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish.

In the former time, he brought into contempt

the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali.

But in the latter time,

he has made glorious the way of the sea,

the land beyond the Jordan,

Galilee of the nations.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.

Those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,

on them has light shone.

You have multiplied the nation.

You have increased its joy.

They rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest,

as they are glad when they divide the spoil.

For the yoke of his burden

and the staff for his shoulder,

the rod of his oppressor,

you have broken as on the day of Midian.

For every boot of the tramping warrior

in battle tumult

and every garment rolled in blood

will be burned as fuel for the fire.

For to us, a child is born.

To us, a son is given.

And the government shall be upon his shoulder

and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor,

Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Of the increase of his government and of peace,

there will be no end.

On the throne of David and over his kingdom

to establish it and to uphold it

with justice and with righteousness

from this time forth and forevermore,

the zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

So again, we're in the middle of our Advent series

and last week we heard this theme from Isaiah 7

declaring the good news of God's arrival in our world.

This was proclaimed through the prophecy

that the virgin would conceive and bear a son

and call his name Emmanuel, our God with us.

So now we have this second prophecy

which again points to the birth of a child

and expounds upon the hope

that this brings to the people of God.

This hope is rooted in what we see in verse 2

that those who were walking in darkness

have seen a great light.

And to grasp the magnitude of the hope

that this light offers,

it's helpful to get a sense of the historical context.

At this point, Isaiah was prophesying

to the nation of Judah,

a nation facing significant geopolitical turmoil.

Last week, Pastor Nick detailed

some of the historical background here

so I won't repeat everything that he said.

But the bottom line is that Ahaz,

the king of Judah,

made a decision to form a political alliance

with Assyria.

Assyria was on a mission of conquest.

So other nations,

including Judah's sister nation of Israel,

were pressuring Ahaz to form an alliance

with them against Assyria.

In the midst of this turmoil,

Ahaz rejected God's assurance

and instead trusted in the strength of Assyria

to protect Judah from this anti-Assyrian alliance.

And it worked for a time,

but following Ahaz's decision,

Isaiah prophesied that Israel and Judah

would both ultimately find themselves

in utter darkness.

In the preceding verse,

chapter 8, verse 22,

we read,

And they will look to the earth,

but behold,

distress and darkness,

the gloom of anguish,

and they will be thrust

into thick darkness.

For Judah,

this vision meant

that they would later be oppressed

by the same nation that saved them.

And even longer term,

they would fall victim

to the Babylonian Empire

and be exiled from their land.

This vision foreshadowed

a complete devastation

of everything they held dear.

Their land would be decimated,

completely ruining

their agricultural economy.

The temple,

the center of their community,

would be destroyed,

and they would no longer have a place

to gather and worship.

Many of them would be uprooted

from their homes,

with families at times being split.

They'd be transported by force

to a land they didn't know,

where they didn't speak the language,

and where they had no sense

of national identity.

We can imagine the sense of loss

and the sense of lostness

they probably felt.

In our passage,

Isaiah refers to the people

walking in deep darkness,

and there's actually

a bit of wordplay happening here,

where he's combining

two Hebrew words

to form a sort of compound phrase.

Death, darkness.

Other translations render this

as shadow of death,

and it points to this idea

that the shadow cast

by their current circumstances

is so expansive

and so dark

that it feels

as though they're walking in death.

But,

there was hope.

Verse 2 says,

the people who walked in darkness

have seen a great light.

Those who dwelt

in a land of deep darkness,

on them

has light shone.

Well, that certainly sounds

like good news,

but what is the light?

What is the light exactly?

And where does it come from?

The good news is actually

in the source of the light,

the person from whom

the light is shining.

Like our Christmas light displays

that tell the world

just a little bit about us,

there's something

that we can learn,

someone that we can know

by this light.

And that person

is foretold in verse 6.

For unto us

a child is born,

to us

a son

is given.

The people walking

in darkness

have seen

a great light,

a light that is located

squarely in the birth

of this child.

God himself

would come from his throne

to dwell with his people

in the messiness

of their humanity,

and his coming

would itself

be the good news,

the great light

shining into the darkness

of our world.

God is the good news,

God is the good news,

God is the good news,

this child is Jesus Christ,

the one that Hebrews

describes as the radiance

of God's glory

and the exact imprint

of his nature.

He is not simply

God's representative,

not simply God's delegate,

but quite literally

God in the flesh.

God in the flesh,

born unto us

in full humanity

and the one

and only God

of the universe,

fully divine

and given to us

by God himself.

Throughout this passage,

Isaiah expounds

on the nature

of this hope

that he locates

in the birth of Jesus.

In the first part

of the passage,

we see that the light

of Jesus' birth

gives us hope

in God's rescue,

and in the rest

of the passage,

we see the hope

that it provides

in God's reign.

Hope in God's rescue

and hope in God's reign,

and it's these two aspects

I want to dial into today.

So first,

let's look at the hope

and the rescue.

We need to consider

a couple of things here.

We need to appreciate

not only the circumstances

from which we are rescued,

but also the way

in which God executes

this rescue mission.

So first,

there's a helpful pattern

in these verses

that describe being rescued

from something hopeless

and into something glorious.

We see this in verse 1,

which says,

in the former time,

he brought into contempt

the land of Zebulun

and the land of Naphtali,

but in the latter time,

he has made glorious

the way of the sea,

the land beyond the Jordan,

Galilee of the nations.

Zebulun and Naphtali

were areas

in the northern kingdom

of Israel

and were likely

the first to fall victim

to the Assyrian Empire.

This is the contempt

that Isaiah is prophesying.

He's saying that

the Israelites

will indeed experience

darkness and contempt

through conquest

by other empires,

but that they will

also be rescued

from this contempt

and into glory.

And this is something

of a headline

that summarizes

the action of the Lord

in this saving.

The following verses

help to illustrate

what it means

to be rescued

by a holy

and righteous God.

In verse 2,

they're rescued

from darkness

and into light.

In verse 3,

they're rescued

from despair

and into joy,

from oppression

to freedom

in verse 4,

from tumult

into peace

in verse 5.

There's a sobering reality

in this.

Our sin,

like that of the Israelites

at that time,

leads to separation

from God.

This deep darkness

in which they walked

illustrates our own sin

and our own

spiritual darkness.

This is an uncomfortable truth

that we often find

difficult to embrace

in our culture.

But the Bible is clear.

We all have chosen

safety and comfort

and pleasure

in other gods.

We all have fallen short

of the glory

of the one true God,

as Romans says.

For Ahaz,

he relied on his own wisdom

and placed his confidence

in a geopolitical ally.

For us,

we may find ourselves

trusting in different gods.

Gods of money,

relationships,

power,

and influence.

In any case,

our sin ultimately

invites judgment

marked by darkness,

despair,

bondage,

and tumult.

But,

if we deal seriously

with the reality

of our sin

and God's righteousness,

there is good news.

In these verses,

the descriptors

of God's mercy

bring hope and joy

to a very dark picture.

We are not just saved

from darkness,

from gloom,

from contempt.

Fundamentally,

we are saved

from death

and into life.

So how exactly

is God going about

this rescue?

We have the answer

in the beginning

of verse 6.

For unto us

a child is born,

to us

a son

is given.

The birth of this child

is said to be

the deciding moment

at which God's

rescue mission

comes to bear.

God has shown

a great light

on his people.

He has increased

their joy.

He has removed

the rod of their oppressor

because this child

enters into the world.

You see,

this child

who was the exact

imprint of God's nature

came to pay the price

for our sin.

And in doing so,

he would bear

all of the shame,

all of the guilt,

and all of the brokenness

of this world.

And he would bear it

on his shoulders

as he hung

on the cross.

This good news

of the coming

of Christ

is one that brings

with it

a release.

For some,

darkness may mean

the ongoing struggle

with addiction

or loneliness.

For others,

it may mean

a constant exhaustion

from parenting

or caretaking.

Maybe there's never

any certainty

or regularity

with your job

or your finances

or maybe

you're grappling

with the new reality

of ailing health

that has no

clear solution.

The darkness

often feels

unrelenting

and the truth is,

left to our own devices,

the darkness

doesn't simply persist.

It's eternal

and it's hopeless.

to battle

addiction alone

is certainly

to fail.

We cannot

simply run out

and find a good friend

or a good partner

or a good spouse

just because we're lonely.

The exhaustion

of caretaking

will always creep in

leading to moments

of anger

and bitterness

and even the best

doctors in the world

cannot stop

death.

But the birth

of Jesus

brings with it

the hope

of an end

to the darkness.

With Jesus

we have an advocate

that saves us

from the bondage

of addiction

and into the freedom

of good

and natural desires.

In our loneliness

we're given

a comforter

and a friend.

In our weakness

and frustration

we are given

a caretaker

who is patient

and long

suffering.

Our bodies

will certainly

fail us

but in Jesus

we are given

a hope

in new life

that will never end.

We hope

in the one

who is powerful

enough to conquer

sin and death

and we hope

in the one

who loved us

so sacrificially

that he died

for us

so that we could

be reconciled

to him.

So when we

consider what it

means for this light

to shine

into the dark

darkness

I think a lot

of us

would tend

to think

of this

as just

a relief.

Maybe it's

like walking

outside

and remembering

the feeling

of the sun

shining on your

face after a few

cloudy days.

You feel it

you revel in it

and then you go

about your day

a little bit warmer

and a little bit

happier.

And certainly

the light of Jesus

seen through his

birth does bring

warmth and relief

in its hopeful message.

change.

But it's more

than that.

We're not just

walking through

life under a cloud

and we're like

boats being

tossed around

at night in the

middle of a storm

on the sea.

There's not

just darkness.

There's uncertainty.

There's fear

and danger.

There's a lostness

and a vulnerability

because it's so

dark and so

stormy that

without a light

we simply

cannot navigate

our way out.

So this light

that shines

in the darkness

is more like

a lighthouse.

Yes,

in the midst

of the storm

it brings hope

and it brings

relief.

But it elicits

these feelings

because the light

is directional.

This light

beckons to us.

turn the ship.

Turn from your

endless pursuit

of perfection

in your social

influence,

in your job,

in your relationships.

Turn from your

striving for

worldly success.

Turn from your

love of things

that are temporal,

that are finite,

from the things

that will ultimately

disappoint.

Turn from your

sin,

Jesus says.

Come to me,

all you who

are weary,

and I will

give you rest

for my yoke

is easy

and my burden

is kind.

Friends,

the light

gives us hope

because it gives

us direction.

It points to the

way out of the

storm,

out of sin,

out of darkness,

out of death,

and into life.

And that way

out is Jesus,

the way,

the truth,

and the life.

So we have

hope in God's

rescue.

But we said

there's also

hope in God's

reign.

Skeptics might

wonder,

into what kind

of life

have I been

saved?

Have I just

been extricated

from one oppressor

only to be adopted

by another?

Indeed,

being saved,

so to speak,

is really only

good news to the

extent that our

Savior is good.

Ahaz found this

out the hard way.

In response to the

pressure from the

northern kingdom,

he sought protection

in political alliances

that would ultimately

oppress him.

So is our Savior

good?

Well,

the remainder of our

passage in chapter 9

shows us that Jesus

is not only our

rescuer,

but he is also

our good and

faithful king.

We're naturally

averse to the idea

of a king because

such centralization

of power has often

gone so poorly

for humanity.

But friends,

Jesus is not a

king like those

that we've seen

in history,

and his reign

is unlike any

other.

He is the

wonderful counselor,

the mighty God,

everlasting father,

and prince of peace.

When we talk about

advent or coming

or arrival,

we're typically

thinking of the

first arrival of God

through the birth

of Jesus,

Jesus.

But here in the

second half of the

passage,

Isaiah is already

looking forward to

Jesus' second

advent when he'll

come in glory to

establish his

everlasting kingdom.

This is what we

read earlier in the

passage from Luke.

The angel speaking

to Mary in her

pregnancy is

affirming Jesus as

the fulfillment of

this prophecy.

It reads,

He, that is Jesus,

will be great and

will be called the

Son of the Most

High.

The Lord God

will give him

the throne of

his father David

and he will reign

over Jacob's

descendants forever.

His kingdom

will never end.

You know,

it's striking to

see that the

prophecy is cast

in terms of

geopolitical turmoil.

The hope that's

promised was

understood by the

Israelites as the

coming of a

political and

military leader,

one that would

break the bondage

of national oppressors

and reestablish

temple worship and

restore the nation

of Israel to its

rightful place in

the world.

But Jesus didn't

come to save his

people by political

or military might.

He came to earth

to usher in a

kingdom defined by

the things that the

world has despised.

This is what Isaiah

means when he names

this child.

Jesus, the

wonderful counselor,

will reign not

through fear and

anger, but with

patience and

imperfect wisdom.

Jesus, the mighty

God, will establish

his kingdom not

by subjugation,

but through radical

self-sacrifice.

Jesus, the

everlasting Father,

reigns in love from

the beginning and

will reign forevermore.

And Jesus, the

Prince of Peace,

will oversee a

kingdom where sin,

brokenness, and

death will end.

And we will no more

be at enmity with

God because of our

sin.

If we need evidence

of the goodness of

our King, we needn't

look any further than

Jesus' crucifixion.

Jesus, residing in

heaven and needing

nothing, laid aside

his very glory to

come to earth in

human form.

And living on earth,

knowing that he had

the power to establish

his kingdom by force,

chose instead to

suffer the injustice

and the contempt and

the humiliation of

dying the most

excruciating and

shameful death

possible.

Death on a cross.

He did this in our

place, and he did it

in love, so that by

rising back from the

dead, he would rescue

his people, conquer

sin and death, and

establish his kingdom

and rule forever in

glory.

So there is good

news in a good

Savior who rescues

us into his good

kingdom.

So what's the

kingdom like?

When we hear the

kingdom of God, we

may subconsciously

think of a faraway

place where we go

after we die.

And if we're being

honest, we kind of

struggle to envision

what this kingdom

will actually look

like.

There's a cartoon by

Gary Larson, a part of

the Far Side series,

where a guy who's made

it to heaven is

sitting, he's perched

on his own little

individual cloud, he's

got his robe on, his

halo's intact, and he's

just thinking to

himself, I kind of wish

I'd brought a magazine.

This cartoon's a

light-hearted way of

exposing a real

deficiency in our

souls.

We are so

entangled with our

messiness that we're

unable to fathom the

joy of a world without

sin, without pain and

suffering.

If we're honest, we

may even find in the

darkest corners of our

hearts that we might

mourn the loss of our

messiness in the

exchange for something

greater.

C.S. Lewis says in

his book, The Weight of

Glory, it would seem

that our Lord finds

our desires not too

strong, but too weak.

We're half-hearted

creatures fooling about

with drink and sex and

ambition when infinite

joy is offered us, like

an ignorant child who

wants to go on making

mud pies in a slum,

because he cannot

imagine what is meant

by the offer of a

holiday at the sea.

We are far too easily

pleased, he says.

God's kingdom is not

just some far away

escape where we go

when we die, and it's

not just some quiet

existence where we sit

in boring tranquility

because all of the

interesting things of the

world have been washed

away.

The kingdom of God is

rich with majesty, with

renewal, and with glory.

The joy we might feel

marveling at creation when

we watch a sunrise from

the summit of a

mountaintop is only a

small token of the

grandeur of his kingdom.

But the amazing thing

about this kingdom is

that it's not just a

future glory, but a very

current reality.

This kingdom is one that

God is already ushering

in through the birth and

the death and resurrection

of Jesus.

Jesus' earthly ministry was

a foreshadowing of the

kingdom that's ultimately

to come, one in which the

outcast is welcomed, the

blind are made to see, the

lame are made to walk, and

the dead are raised to life.

So this hope that we have in

the kingdom gives us more

than just a hope for relief

in the future.

Like those walking with

Jesus during his earthly

ministry, it gives us a hope

and restoration here and

now.

When we believe in the Lord

Jesus and we repent of our

sins, we are saved from

death and we are raised to a

new spiritual life as members

of his kingdom.

And God not only calls us into

his kingdom, but he calls us to

partake in the cultivation of

the kingdom.

He promises to use us to

glorify himself.

And in this we can find hope

and joy even in the midst of

our darkness, knowing that God

is working in and through us to

redeem the brokenness in the

world.

We've been hearing quite a bit

about this kingdom this fall as

we've been working our way through

the Sermon on the Mount.

We began with the Beatitudes in

that series.

Blessed are the poor in spirit.

Blessed are those who mourn.

Blessed are the meek, the hungry,

the thirsty, the pure in heart,

the peacemakers, the persecuted,

the reviled.

If you haven't heard these sermons,

I'd encourage you to go back into

the archive and listen to them.

There's a richness in understanding

the depth of meaning in these

terms.

But the broader point here is that

those who are blessed in the

kingdom of God are not the ones

who bring knowledge and power and

wealth and success and influence to

the table.

They are the lowly in heart.

Those who come to the throne of God

knowing they bring nothing but their

empty, open hands.

And with their empty hands,

they become tools in God's hands

to bring the good news of the gospel

to the ends of the earth.

Contrast this against our world right now.

How are you valued in the world?

Politicians value you for your vote.

Corporations value you for your labor.

The free market values you for your money.

Academia values you for your intellect.

Even in our personal lives,

the sin that permeates humanity

means that we're often

feeling valued because we're good friends,

good kids, good spouses,

good parents,

even good Christians.

And if any of these things stop being true,

then what?

Is it any wonder that we find ourselves

toiling in anxiety and despair and darkness?

But the hope of the gospel is that

through faith in Jesus,

we can live in a kingdom

where we are not valued because of what we bring,

but because of what God did for us.

God created us and loved us so much

that he was willing to die for us

even while we were still walking in darkness,

still rejecting him,

still dead in our sins.

Friends, the gods of our society today

are very harsh masters.

They demand everything from us

and offer little in return.

Knowledge and social status

and money and sex and relationships.

As gifts, these things are wonderful,

but as gods, they are ruthless.

A life spent in endless pursuit of these things

leads to toiling, to disappointment,

to bitterness and despair.

These things cannot satisfy our souls.

We were not designed for that.

We were made for life with God.

Jesus is God's greatest display

of his power and his righteousness,

and it's in this power

that God rescues his people

and will ultimately restore his creation.

This light beckons to us

like a lighthouse in the distance

amidst our dark and stormy circumstances.

This light is the light of Jesus,

God in the flesh,

God with us.

Come to him,

and he will give you rest.

Let's pray.

Father God,

we thank you that in love

you came to save us,

and in power

you rose victorious

over sin and death.

We pray that during this season of Advent

that you would align our hearts to you

and that the birth of Jesus

would be an ever-present reminder to us

of your sacrificial love

and the light that it brings.

Lord, we thank you for this hope

that we have in Jesus,

and it's in his precious

and holy name that we pray.

Amen.