CMLC 2025-12-14 Sermon

There's a particular kind of joy that we're told

we're supposed to have at Christmas. It's cheerful,

it's well decorated, and it has cookies, which

apparently I'm supposed to be careful about the

chocolate covered bourbon balls. Just supposed

to have one a day. We'll see how that works.

It somehow requires energy at Christmas time

that we do not currently possess. And if we're

honest, many of us come into the season already

tired. You know, we're tired before the lights

go up. We're tired before the first carol plays.

We are tired before someone cheerfully says,

can you believe it's almost Christmas? Hush up.

And some of us, we nod politely. Some of us nod

impolitely. Some of us smile. Some of us quietly

wonder if it is acceptable to take a nap until

January. Into that reality, Scripture gives us

a strange pairing today. A desert in bloom and

a prophet in prison. Isaiah sings about joy.

John the Baptist asks if joy has missed him entirely.

And somehow right there in between, Jesus shows

us what real joy actually is. The wilderness

and the dry land shall be glad. The desert shall

rejoice and blossom. Isaiah starts with joy,

but not the kind you buy in Isle 7. This joy

is spoken over places that look nothing like

joy. Wilderness, dry land, desert. Isaiah does

not say once the desert blooms, then it will

rejoice. He says, it shall rejoice. God speaks

joy over barrenness before anything changes.

And that matters. Because joy does not begin

with circumstances improving. It begins with

God naming what is possible. Now hold that next

to John the Baptist. John is not in the wilderness

anymore. He's in prison. The man who once baptized

crowds and thundered truth is now sending a message

from a cell. Are you the one who is to come or

should we wait? for another. Yikes, John. This

is not a trick question, though. It's a tired

question. It's the question of someone who thought

that joy would look different by now. And if

we're honest, Christmas can feel like that. We

expect warmth, but we feel lonely. We expect

peace, but family gatherings feel like obstacle

courses. We expect joy, but all we feel is a

vague sense of pressure. Like joy is late and

we just keep checking our watch. Joy at first?

Well, it's not really a feeling, but rather a

longing. It's the quiet belief that the desert

is not the final chapter. Sometimes joy begins

with nothing more than just the thought, maybe

God. is not finished yet. Strengthen the weak

hands and make firm the feeble knees. Say to

those who are of a fearful heart, Be strong,

do not fear. Before Isaiah talks about singing,

he talks about trembling. Before joy erupts,

God addresses exhaustion. But this is good news.

Because many of us We don't need or want cheer.

We need support. We do not need someone to tell

us to smile more. We need someone to say, I see

how tired you are, but don't point out the bags.

John the Baptist does not receive a rebuke from

Jesus. Jesus does not say, come on John, where's

your faith? Jesus answers gently. He sends reassurance.

And then in front of the crowd, Jesus honors

John. Among those born of women, no one has arisen

greater than John the Baptist. Even in his doubt,

John is not discarded. He is still part of God's

story. often asks us to be strong when we're

already worn down. We carry responsibilities,

grief, expectations, and sometimes a little too

much credit card debt. All while humming carols.

Joy in this moment is not laughter. Joy is God

steadying, shaking hands. Joy is God saying,

you're not failing, you're human. Sometimes joy

feels like being held up rather than lifted away.

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened and

the ears of the deaf unstopped. Isaiah says,

then, not immediately, but surely. Joy becomes

visible in restoration. When Jesus answers John's

question, He's not trying to go into some theological

essay to make sure that he remembers all of the

prophecies in every other piece. He points. The

blind receive their sight. The lame walk. The

lepers are cleansed. The deaf hear. The dead

are raised. The poor have good news brought to

them. In other words, John, look around. This

is what joy is supposed to look like. It's not

sparkly, it's not perfect. It's redemption. Christmas

often tempts us to believe that joy must feel

magical, but Scripture tells us that joy often

looks ordinary and miraculous at the same time.

A relationship slowly healing. A burden shared.

a body cared for, a soul remembering it is loved.

See, real joy is not found in flawless moments.

We don't flip to the Hallmark Channel to find

it. It is found where something broken is being

made whole. If you are looking for joy this season,

look for places where love is repairing what

life has worn down. That's where Christ is. Waters

shall break forth in the wilderness, streams

in the desert, the burning sand shall become

a pool and the thirsty ground springs of water."

Isaiah's language suddenly becomes extravagant.

He is no longer talking about survival, just

getting by. He is talking about abundance, overflowing.

The desert does not just get a water bottle and

a shade umbrella. It turns into a landscape with

springs. This is important because many of us

secretly believe God's goal is just to help us

barely make it. We imagine faith as learning

to manage disappointment with better manners.

But Isaiah insists that when God shows up, God

doesn't ration out life. He overflows with it

for us. Now put that next to John the Baptist,

the one who has struggled in preaching that the

captives will be freed, the one who is wondering

what is going on. But you see, John expected

fire. He preached fire. He announced an axe at

the root of the tree, and he imagined the Messiah

arriving with judgment and clarity and swift

resolution, and instead... Jesus shows up healing

people, forgiving sinners, eating with the wrong

crowd, telling stories that take a while to make

sense. I know how that goes. In other words,

Jesus does not meet John's expectations, rather

He exceeds Isaiah's promises. And this is where

many of us get stuck at Christmas. We pray For

one thing, and God gives another. We expect joy

to arrive as relief, and God brings transformation

into our lives. We expect joy to mean everything

gets easier, and instead, God brings depth to

us instead. Sometimes our disappointment is not

that God failed to act. It's that God acted differently

than we imagined. But here's what's hidden in

the truth. Many of us treat God like a customer

service department at Kohl's where the line is

way too long. When all we wanted to do was come

in and take back the present we didn't want and

get what we did. You see, we submit our request

and we wait for the exact outcome that we selected.

When it does not arrive, we assume something

must have gone wrong. But y 'all, God is not

Amazon Prime. He doesn't offer a free video subscription.

He doesn't do overnight shipping once you pay

over 25 bucks. He does not end up taking spiritual

formation and turning it into a commodity. Thank

God for that. Because what He is delivering is

heavier than we could carry all at once. Joy

begins to overflow when we release our tight

grip on expectations and open our hands to the

surprise of joy. Because real joy is discovering

that God's mercy is wider than our categories,

and His generosity is deeper than our plans.

A highway shall be there, and it shall be called

the Holy Way. The ransomed of the Lord shall

return and come to Zion with singing. Everlasting

joy shall be upon their heads. Isaiah ends not

with a party, but with a road. That detail matters.

Parties are fun. But are those the things that

last? Are those the things that get us anywhere?

Roads, they're not moments in time. They're journeys.

They require walking, travel. They imply time,

direction, companionship. No one ever expects

to get to Florida in half an hour. This is not

joy as some emotional high. This is joy as direction

and orienting ourselves. There is a way through

the wilderness now. There's a way forward that

does not depend on getting lost and hoping that

maybe you find yourself on accident. John the

Baptist, He prepared the way, but He does not

walk it fully. We know that His time was cut

short, but that does not mean that the way He

prepared was wrong. See, He stands at the threshold,

but Jesus Himself is the way itself. John's life

reminds us that even faithful people do not always

experience the fullness of joy that they point

toward. Not everyone who proclaims the joy of

the Lord always gets to feel it in its fullness.

That's not failure. That's calling. Some of us,

we're still in the preparing stage of joy. We

believe it's coming, even if we cannot feel it

just yet. Christmas tempts us to think that joy

should arrive all at once, preferably on a schedule

somewhere between the first present on December

24th and the rest of them on December 25th, wrapped

neatly with the right bow. But Isaiah gives us

something more honest. Joy does not arrive as

a single experience. It's a direction. It's a

process. It's a path. Notice what disappears

at the end of the passage. Sorrow and groaning

are fleeing. They don't disappear and evaporate

immediately. But rather, they lose their authority.

They lose their control. Joy does not mean that

you're never going to groan again. Joy means

that the groaning no longer defines where your

life is headed. everlasting joy rests on our

heads. Not because life is easy, but because

God is faithful. So if you leave this season

tired, still grieving, still unsure, that does

not mean that joy has failed. It may mean you're

just on a different part of the road. And if

you're walking that road with Christ, even slowly,

even imperfectly, then joy is not behind you.

It's beneath your feet. So John waits in prison.

Israel waits in the wilderness. And so many of

us wait in our own ways. And joy is still coming.

Not as we deny the pain. Not as we force the

cheer. But as Christ entering the desert, the

prison, the waiting with us, and saying to us,

with me because real joy it's not something we

manufacture it is someone who meets us on the

road leads us home and that joy quietly and faithfully

is already on the way thanks be to God