WHISPERS OF WHAT IS COMING

Isaiah 9: 1-7
Steve Lindsley
November 27, 2011

Shhh…..do you hear it?
    The whispers of what is coming?
        Soft sounds of an impending arrival, breaking through the silence
            of our loud and deafening world?
Can you see it?
    Can you see the light in the midst of darkness?
        The shadows we walk through every day,
            Lurking in the abyss of perpetual blindness.
The faint illumination in the distance, a hope, a dream,
            Of what is to come?
Can you feel it?
    The excited anticipation of what will be,
        Of what is not here – not yet?
Can you feel it coming?
    Can you see the light?
        Do you hear the whispers?

They are whispers spoken through the darkness;
    Stubbornly persistent in a season awash with red and green,
        The signs of the holidays already long upon us.
    Department stores adorned with seasonal cheer,
        radio stations playing “Little Drummer Boy” in early November.
    Christmas parades and television specials –
        Will they ever let Rudolph play reindeer games??
    Advent Wednesdays and Cantatas and Christmas pageants,
        Candle lighting and poinsettias,
    Ornaments hung and lights strung around the tree –
        Why won’t they stop blinking??
    Gifts wrapped for young children under the tree,
        We face the harsh irony of the vastly misleading declaration:
             Some assembly required.

What whispers?  What darkness?
    Light surrounds us!  Sounds ring in our ears!
Christmas is not coming.  It is here,
    Screaming at us, clamoring for our attention,
        Our time, our gifts, our credit card numbers.
    Is this the light that has entered our darkness?
        Is this the reason for the season?
            Where are the whispers?

Long ago, the world at the time,
    Different from ours and yet in many ways the same,
        Powers vying for dominance,
            Nation against nation, they raged continuously.
God’s people, oppressed once again
    Under the rule of many a foreign nation.
It was Egypt all over again,
    And they prayed for another Exodus.
Deliverance and the promise of something more,
            The hope of the renewed covenant,
                Darkness defeated, once and for all.

Scriptures long before had spoken of a Messiah that would come,
    Delivering freedom to God’s Chosen.
And so they watched patiently for their savior.
But they looked in all the wrong places,
    Expecting a leader riding on chariot,
Calling together an army with sword
    Victory won with a mighty hand.
                They looked and waited for this Messiah
                    But he never came.

The whisper, drowned out by the noise and clamor
    Of a people looking for something else entirely:
        Other voices louder, more forceful,
Speaking the will of a wayward nation:
        Release us, Lord – let our people go!
            O God, where are you?  Where are we?
                Who will deliver us?  Who will save?
And yet the whisper persisted, never relenting;
    For the message yearned to be heard
        By a people praying for change.

And then, one day, the whisper began.
Loud and bombastic, as are all things from the mouth of the prophet.
        His lips cleansed with burning coal,
            Called to serve as the voice of God.
Isaiah, speaking to the nation Israel,
        Telling them of the whispers of what was coming:

The people who walked in darkness
    Have seen a great light.
        Those who lived in a land of darkness
            On them light has shined.

The people – God’s chosen.
    The darkness – the world they lived in.
        The light – the hope of what was to come.
A light that shines not only into the darkness, but through it;
    Barely visible at first,
        Like riding in a mountain tunnel with black surrounding
                And then, a glimmer of daylight,
                    Sun peaking through the opening on the other side,
                        The darkness begins to fade.
    The darkness they knew all too well
        Filled with broken promises and dashed hopes
            Over a Messiah who had not yet come.
Into their darkened world, a sliver of light and hope,
        And the whispers of what was coming:

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.

A child.  A child?!
    This is the light that is coming??
        Not a mighty warrior,
            Or a great leader,
                Or a prophet as of old.
But a child – upon which is placed not only the blanket of a newborn
    But authority of heaven and earth!
A child – called not by his given name
    But bestowed with accolades such as Wonderful Counselor and Prince of Peace.
        The Messiah in their very midst.
The whispers spoken long before,
    Now coming to fruition and completion
        In a child.

These whispers made their way across the lands,
    Kings and Shepherds hearing the news, paying homage,
        The whispers, spoken through the years and centuries,
            And are heard by us today.
The whispers are here with you and with me;
    Even when we struggle to hear them.
        Drowned out by the busyness of our hectic lives
            And frenzied schedules that fill up holiday calendars.

We plan and prepare, we cook and clean,
    We wrap and unwrap, we feast and celebrate.
        We go from here to there, we never stop,
            Often too fast and too quick.
We outrun the whispers.
    We think it’s already here.
So drawn to the red and green, the blinking Christmas tree lights,
    That we fail to remember that we are still walking in darkness,
            Forever searching for our salvation and our home.

But – if we listen closely,
    If we drown out the noise of all that surrounds us,
        Clear our minds of distraction,
            We can hear the whispers:
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.
    For a child has been born for us.

Jesus, coming into our midst – not now, not yet,
    But promised by a God who never breaks promises.
Jesus, a child in a manger, surrounded by barnyard animals
    And an odd assortment of herdsmen and kings,
        A makeshift court of honor in his holy presence.
Jesus, who would grow into a young boy, then a teenager, then a man,
    Trained as a carpenter but called to build something more:
        The kingdom of God on earth.
    He told others what those before him had long anticipated:
        I am the Way.  The Truth.  The Life.
Not a military leader.  Not a king.  Not a prophet.
    But a son, a carpenter, a teacher and preacher.
        A Messiah.
And it is through Jesus that the world would finally know the heart of God,
    Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer all,
        Yahweh, forever our God and we forever God's people,
            A love without end.

And yet – Jesus has not come. 
    He is not here – not yet.
        The manger, the birth, the star;
            Still weeks away,
                even though all that surrounds us suggests otherwise.
            The signs of the season threaten to deceive,
                Because he has not yet arrived.

We are still just hearing the whispers,
    Still just seeing the sliver of light in the darkness,

So let us, in a season when so much is filled with false light,
    Where we are surrounded by noise upon noise,
Let us remind ourselves of the darkness that God chose to break into long ago,
    A broken and hurting world
        A people wanting their Egypt to become their Exodus.

And let us realize that their darkness is not unlike our own,
    And that our world is just as broken
        And that we, too, are yearning for redemption.

So that, when we hear those same whispers centuries removed,
    We know that we are on the doorstep of God’s marvelous work:

        That light will shine through the darkness,
            That a child will come to us,
                That he will be holy,
                    And God’s love will have no end.

Can you feel it coming?
    Can you see the light?
        Do you hear the whispers?
Thanks be to God.  AMEN.