2^nd Sunday in Advent at Epiphany on December 7, 2008

Isaiah 40:1-4 Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. ² Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the LORD's hand double for all her sins. ³ A voice of one calling: "In the desert prepare the way for the LORD; make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God. ⁴ Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain.

Comfort the Lord’s People!

The conductor raised his baton, and a hush came over the 700+ people who had crowded into Neal’s Music Hall, which was designed to hold only 600 people. The jam-packed crowd didn’t want to miss a single note or syllable of the performance. They weren’t disappointed. The clear voice of the tenor rang through the hall, intoning words that still touch hearts and lift spirits 266 years later.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been 266 years since Handel’s Messiah was first performed – in Dublin, Ireland, on April 13, 1742. It has been thrilling audiences ever since. In fact, for many people attending a performance of Messiah is as much a part of Christmas as stringing up lights, decorating a tree, or exchanging presents. Hearing sections of this 266-year-old oratorio is a “must” for many people at Christmas.

How many modern Christmas songs will appeal to people 266 years from now? “White Christmas”? “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer?” “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus?” Will people even know about these songs 266 years from now, let alone listen to them?

If the world is still turning in 266 years, people will still be attending presentations of Messiah, and you can understand why. Think of how well Handel uses tonal painting, adeptly matching his music to the sacred text. There is the lilting exuberance of “Every valley shall be exalted,” the somber cadence of “But who may abide the day of his coming,” and the measured pace of “Behold, a virgin shall conceive.” When you listen to Messiah, you can understand why Beethoven, not a bad composer himself, once said: “He (Handel) was the greatest composer that ever lived”— a sentiment Franz Joseph Haydn echoed when he said, “He was the master of us all.” The music of Messiah stirs our emotions like few other pieces of music can.

And yet, the greatness of Messiah is in its message drawn directly from Scripture. In Isaiah 40, the Lord gives the prophet Isaiah a vision about what is going to happen to his chosen people about 100 years in the future, and it isn’t a pleasant picture. Isaiah sees God’s people in the darkest, most difficult days of their lives. They’re in Babylonian captivity, 700 miles away from their homeland. This is the saddest, most heart-rending period in Israel’s entire history. God’s people feel cut off from God. They have lost hope.

You hear the dark, doleful situation of Israel in this section of Handel’s Messiah. [Play 15/16 seconds of Section #2.]

It’s slow and somber, almost like a funeral march. Handel wrote music that transports us across the desert into the gloom of Israel’s exile. They are cut off from their homeland, deprived of their once-favored status and abandoned of any hope. Handel’s music reflects their mood in captivity.

But Handel’s music suddenly changes when it gets to our text. The slow, somber music moves higher, breaking through the gloom of despair and striking a note of hope. [Play about 30 seconds of Section #2, starting after the introduction at about 18 seconds.]

Handel captures the tone of our text. God’s spokesman announces a message of unbelievable joy for despairing people. This message brings hope to all people, whether they’re living in ancient times or right now. The music of this recitative reflects that hope. The music is perfectly matched to these uplifting words: “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the LORD’s hand double for all her sins.”

God’s voice doesn’t pronounce judgment and condemnation, although it has every right to. Instead, it speaks peace to grieving hearts. It reveals the heart of a Father who pities his children in their time of need.

The Lord’s messenger is to “proclaim” that Israel’s “hard service has been completed,” or, for those who know the older translation, “her warfare is ended.” God’s people had declared war – war with God himself. That’s what sin is — open rebellion against the Most High. It’s not a small or insignificant little quarrel with God, as we like to think — a “minor difference about how we’re living,” a “lover’s spat that will soon pass.” It’s an all-out war on our part.

The Lord stresses that we are ones who sin. Sin here literally means “any activity that is crooked.” It has the idea of “leaving the path God wants us to walk and following all sorts of other pathways” – ways that are sinful. It can even mean “twisted” or “perverted” lives.

“Her hard service has been completed.” The war Israel declared on the Lord, which she could never win, has come to an end. God himself has “finished” it. And he’s done this by “paying for” our sin – in full. Isn’t this exactly what Jesus announced on the cross when he said, “It is finished!” – “Paid in full!”? The Lord has more than paid for our sins. We have received “double for all our sins.” God has given us twice as much forgiveness as we needed.

Do you usually think of your sins the way the Lord describes them here: as “open rebellion” or “war with God?” as “wandering” or “twisted?”

Think of things you did this last week, things that “weren’t quite in harmony with God’s will.” Were you ever “short” with your spouse, a little impatient and “crabby?” Were there days when you didn’t give your children the time they needed and deserved? Did you neglect your daily devotions or not call on God in prayer?

We’ve all been guilty of those things, haven’t we? And yet, we don’t think of them as “waging war with God” or “being perverted” or “wandering away.” In fact, we can find excuses for what we did or didn’t do: “I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately.” “I haven’t felt well.” “I just didn’t have the time.” So our “sins” become “slip-ups,” our “iniquities” become “inaccuracies,” and our “warfare” becomes “weaknesses.” We tone down the harshness of what we’ve done, as if they aren’t that bad. We change our vocabulary when talking about sin, as if that lessens its severity.

See sin, your sin, for what it really is. According to the Lord’s own words in Isaiah 40, see sin the way God sees sin – open warfare, wandering from righteousness, a perversion of his holy will. Accept God’s description of sin. That’s important. It’s only when we see the seriousness of our sins that we receive the fullness of God’s comfort.

The Lord wants us to know comfort! That comes across so clearly, like those first, pure tones the tenor sings in the recitative on these words, those wonderful tones on the words “comfort.” That comfort clearly comes across in all the Lord says here. Did you notice, for example, that the Lord calls us, “my people”? You and I, who sinned against God so many times and in so many ways, are still his people! He assures us that this message is from “your God.” In spite of our rebellious, twisted, wayward lives, God is still our God, the God of unlimited, undeserved love.

How do we respond to our Lord’s unlimited, undeserved, unbelievable love? There’s only one way to respond, isn’t there — the way the Lord’s messenger proclaims: “In the desert prepare the way for the LORD; make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God. Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain.”

“Prepare the royal highway. The King of kings is near. Let every hill and valley, a level road appear!” (CWS 702) For his arrival, the Lord wants a road that is straight and smooth, a road on which it will be easy for him to come to us. If there are valleys or low spots where the road is to run, they should be “raised up” and filled in. If there are hills or mountains in the way, they should be “made low” and leveled. This road should not be winding or rough, but straight and smooth.

This road isn’t a road across the desert from Babylon to Jerusalem. It’s not a road on any map. The Lord’s road is the road into our hearts. The Lord wants us to remove any obstacles that might keep him out of our hearts. And he wants us to get rid of any obstructions that might make it difficult for him to come into our lives. The road to our heart is to be straight and smooth.

Is there some “road-building” you and I have to do before our Lord can come to us anew this Christmas? Are there concerns about the things of this world that we may have to level out so they won’t block Savior’s way? Do we have to straighten out the way to our hearts by setting aside the secular interests of this season that can so easily sidetrack us? Do we need to put out a “road improvement ahead” sign for the next couple of weeks?

That shouldn’t be something we resist or resent. We move from gloom and sadness to comfort and joy. Handel’s music is light and exuberant, expressing the excitement and delight God’s people feel as they prepare to the Lord’s coming. Listen to the opening of the aria on these words: [Play 22 seconds of “Ev’ry valley shall be exalted.”]

Doesn’t this light, almost playful music express the joy we feel as we think about our Lord coming to us again with his love and forgiveness? One of the secular Christmas songs calls this “the happiest time of the year,” and the Christmas season is exactly that for us believers. At Christmas we celebrate the Lord’s coming — his coming to earth as a little Child that he might serve as our Savior. These are “good tidings of great joy.” What joy we have, knowing the Lord laid aside his glory and power to be born in humility to become our Savior from crooked, perverted, wandering sin.

There’s something else we can learn from Handel’s light, exuberant music. As the tenor runs up and down the scale, expressing his delight in responding to the Savior, I think of the custom of some of our fellow believers in Africa. When they collect their offerings, they don’t sit quietly in the pews as they pass the plate, the way we do. Instead, the musicians start playing a lively, happy song, and the people get up and start singing and dancing as they make their way to the front, where they drop their offerings in the collection baskets. They are so delighted with God’s comfort in Jesus that they have to sing and dance with joy as they bring their gifts to the Lord. They show in this way that they are really offering their whole life, all they are and have, to the Lord.

What a great example for us. You don’t have to get up to sing and dance your offerings to the altar, but might we want to consider showing our joy with a special gift for the Lord this Christmas season? Rather than giving gifts to people who already have enough stuff, how about something different, something unique? A special offering to the church? A gracious gift to the synod? A toy for a tot? Groceries to a food pantry? God has given us the greatest gift of all – his Son. In the Babe of Bethlehem and the Crucified Christ, our God speaks wonderful words of comfort, assuring us of full and free forgiveness. Wouldn’t it be fitting if we, in joyful response, brought a special gift to the Lord?

Handel wrote the Messiah while battling a serious bout of depression over failed operas. Messiah became his greatest creation. It is God’s comfort that defeats depression, demolishes doubts, destroys death, and delivers delight. God gives you comfort. Delight in that comfort. Delight in straightening out your crooked life. Delight in giving a gift of gospel comfort to others. Amen.