I have always been fascinated by revolutionary figures; people who have caught the world’s imagination and changed the course of humanity, both for good and for ill. Jesus was and is the archetypical example. As a teenager, I was rivetted by Alan Bullock’s biography of Adolf Hitler, upon which I shall not dwell. A few months ago, I bought a copy of a biography of Che Guevara; and here it is. Like the Gospels, it contains a biography and a message. Jesus’ active ministry is said to have lasted two or three years. Guevara’s lasted ten; from 1957 until his death in 1967. In my Bible [NRSV], the Gospels take up 126 pages; roughly 76,000 words. This biography of Che Guevara contains 754 pages or roughly 302,000 words. I make no comment this morning on the contents; the truth is that I haven’t found time to read it yet. But my point is clear, I hope. It is the intensity, the concentrated nature of the Gospels that fascinates. This morning’s reading from St John’s Gospel exemplifies this. In just four verses it touches upon four theologically complex themes; Resurrection; God’s Peace or Shalom; the Holy Spirit; and Absolution. A separate sermon could be preached on each; indeed, much more can be said about each of them than can be packed into a sermon of tolerable length. So you’ll be relieved to learn that I am going to be selective. I have chosen to say a few words about the theme that has aroused and continues to arouse controversy within the ranks of the Christian faithful; namely Absolution. 

Apart from the Passion narrative, one struggles to discover points of similarity between John’s Gospel on the one hand; and the synoptic Gospels upon the other; but we find accounts of Jesus bestowing authority to absolve upon his apostles in Matthew’s Gospel. In our reading this morning, Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit into the disciples and says; ‘Whosoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them”. In Matthew 16, Jesus announces that Simon Peter is the rock upon which his church will be built; and then, ‘I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven’; and the declaration is repeated a little later in Matthew 18.

The authority bestowed by Jesus in these scenes is the authority to pardon offences or to forgive sins, whichever phrase you prefer. In other words, it is the power to reverse what God did to Adam and Eve when he expelled them from the Garden of Eden. Sin separates us from God; it causes a breakdown in our relationship with God. If I wrong my wife, my relationship with her is fractured. However, if I apologise to her and she accepts my apology, then our relationship is mended. But what about my relationship with God? I can say sorry to God, but how do I know whether my apology has been accepted? That’s what troubled the Jews. They never knew whether they were really at one with God; so they engaged in sacrifices and sent scapegoats off into the desert in the hope of appeasing God’s anger with them for their sinfulness. It was all a bit hit and miss. The difficulty was that only God could forgive sin. That’s what upset the Pharisees about Jesus. When he healed a paralytic with the words, ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven you’ [Luke 5:20]; the Pharisees complained; ‘Who is this who is speaking blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone?’ [ibid 5:21]. Christians believe that Jesus was and is God; so he had the power to forgive sins; but upon his departure from this world as a human being, this priceless benefit would be lost. Jesus resolved the dilemma that had faced the Jews by authorising his disciples to exercise his divine and exclusive power to forgive a person’s sins and to restore that person’s relationship with God. The power belonged to God and so its delegation was in his exclusive gift. A central truth of our Easter faith is that he did delegate it; and so enabled each one of us to be redeemed and to be re-assured that we are.

So when some folk, usually from a non-conformist tradition, argue that priests are unnecessary; rejecting their role as interveners in the relationship between God and the faithful, they expressly reject this central truth about Christianity. Today’s priest is vested with the same authority as the disciples in succession to whom he or she stands; the very same disciples to whom Jesus delegated his power to forgive sins on the very evening of the day of his Resurrection as we have heard this morning. The Christian priest is neither an obstacle nor an unwelcome interloper, but a bridge and a mediator between God and the faithful. Of course, I am not saying that, from time to time, the privilege of priesthood is not abused; priests, like the disciples, are only human; sinners like the rest of us. But to argue that they are unnecessary misunderstands the very nature of Jesus’ mission; and of the unique role of the Christian priest in his divine scheme. And, of course, the priest brings with him shalom, God’s peace, as Jesus did on that same evening to his troubled followers.

The streets have been packed. Jostling shouting pilgrims herding, dragging, carrying bleating lambs – pushing their way to the temple which yesterday was place of noise, commotion, blood and mess. The priests’ work seemingly never ending as they grasped the lambs they were handed – slit the throats and sprinkled the blood on the altar.

For this week the people celebrate the most important festival of the year. The feast of Passover when Jewish families up and down the land will sacrifice a lamb and sit down together for a meal and remember how centuries ago God rescued them from the Egyptians.

Remember how they had been slaves – forced to make bricks – and to gather their own raw materials – forced to make bricks without being given the straw to put in them. Backbreaking slave labour – and they had cried out to God in their misery. And He had come to the rescue. "I have seen the misery of my people” He said to Moses, “I have heard them crying … so I have come down to rescue them. With a mighty hand and an outstretched arm I will redeem you.”¹

And rescue them He had. And in these days of jostling crowds and bleating lambs and commotion and mess - they celebrate that rescue. Eating again the Passover and recalling how centuries ago on the night of their escape they had sacrificed a lamb and painted its blood on the wooden beams before eating the hurried meal; recalling how a plague had swept the land but passed over all the houses where lamb’s blood had been painted; recalling how Pharoah had finally let God’s people go free. God had seen their misery, heard their cries and come down with a mighty hand and outstretched arm to lead them into freedom.

So Jerusalem is packed. The streets are full of jostling shouting Passover pilgrims. At the centre the chaos and excitement at the temple – but off to one side beyond the city walls a cruel and appalling spectacle is taking place. On a barren God-forsaken hill - called ‘Place of the Skull’ because of the shape of its rocky outcrops - stands a crowd – a crowd watching the execution of three men. Roman soldiers are stripping the third man of His clothes and holding down His outstretched arms they hammer nails through His wrists and ankles before hoisting Him on a beam of wood to hang between the other two.

Hear the screams that split the air; hear the jeers and the laughter and the weeping. Watch as mocking soldiers offer this thirsting man soured wine; watch as they squabble for His clothes – the spoils of execution. See the passers-by hurl abuse.

Who is He who hangs there – a barbed thorny crown pushed hard down over His head? Above His bloodied face they have fixed a sign, ‘This is the King of the Jews’. But few in this baying crowd want Him for a King. “All these powers He was supposed to have where are they now?” They say. “He was supposed to have healed people but He can’t even heal Himself. Look at Him there bleeding. Some King. Some Messiah. Whoever heard of an executed saviour – a crucified Messiah? If God was with Him He’d come right down off that cross.”

"I have seen the misery of My people … I have heard them crying … so I have come down to rescue them. With mighty outstretched arms I will redeem you.”

"I have seen the misery of My people … I have heard them crying…’

I wonder where you are this Good Friday. What is your misery? What causes you to cry? I wonder where you are standing this Good Friday?

Maybe you’re with Peter. He’s not standing at the cross this Good Friday. “The cock crowed a second time and Peter remembered the words Jesus had spoken to him. And he broke down and wept.”

No - Peter is not standing at the cross this Good Friday. He is torn apart by guilt. He has denied and deserted his Lord. So he hides alone. Broken and weeping. Unable to put right what he has done.

Are you with Peter this Good Friday?

If you’re honest you feel you’ve failed God and you’re carrying a weight of guilt. Unable to face your Lord you hide your face and feel alone. You can’t simply by yourself put it right. You don’t have the resources.

The Israelites couldn’t make bricks without straw – and in their slavery and misery they cried out to God and with a mighty outstretched arm He came to rescue them and give them freedom.

I wonder where you are this Good Friday. What causes you to cry?

‘The people stood watching and the rulers even sneered at Him, “He saved others; let Him save Himself if He is the Messiah from God, the chosen one.” ’

Deep down of course they did long for God’s chosen one to come. Deep down they did want the Messiah to come – they did want a Saviour - but just not looking like this one. For hundreds of years they had been governed and ruled over by cruel foreign powers. For hundreds of years they had longed for God to break into their world and bring them justice and freedom. And now they are disillusioned. Hardened to the idea that He might ever turn up. So when a carpenter turns up towing a motley band of fishermen tax collectors and prostitutes in His wake claiming to be God’s Messiah – His chosen saviour – well the idea is simply insulting. Laughable. Especially now – as He hangs there with pierced hands, outstretched arms and barbed crown. Who ever heard of a crucified saviour? And realising the hopelessness of their ridiculous dreams they hurl the pent up disappointment and bitterness of years at this man on the cross. ‘They sneer at Him, “He saved others; let Him save Himself if He is the Messiah from God, the chosen one.”

I wonder where you are this Good Friday. What is your misery? What causes you to cry?

Do you - deep down - stand with the disillusioned mockers? Oh you put a bright face towards the world – but actually inside you’re pretty disappointed. Justice, fairness – well you haven’t seen much of those in recent years. In fact you’ve long been waiting for God to turn up; to break in bringing a bit of justice and freedom. But it’s been a long wait – and to be honest you’re actually quite hardened to the idea that He ever will. Disappointment; hopelessness; bitterness; scorn.

Do you stand with the disillusioned mockers this Good Friday?

You’re trapped and you just don’t have the resources within yourself to make it right.

You can’t make bricks without straw. The Israelites cried out to God in their misery and with a mighty outstretched arm He came to rescue them.

Where do you stand this Good Friday?

‘Women followed who mourned and wailed… They stood watching these things. [Near the cross stood His mother.]' ²

Are you with Mary today?

She stands at the cross and her heart is breaking with pain. She is losing the one she loves. Broken and weeping she can do nothing to make it right. She can only stand and watch as He is taken from her. And it is a task too hard to bear.

This Good Friday are you with Mary? You have known a loss in your life and sometimes your heart still breaks with pain. And nothing you can do can make it right again - except cry out to God in your sadness.

‘I have seen the misery of My people’ says God ‘I have heard them crying’.

Peter weeping bitterly for guilt.

The disillusioned mocking crowd who’ve given up on a saviour.

Mary heart-broken at the cross.

Where do you stand today? What makes you cry out to God?

Guilt? Someone or something you can’t forgive? Bitterness and disappointment? Something that has made you angry? Loneliness? Pain? Grief? Loss?

And what does this cross – this message of a crucified Saviour - have to say to us in our misery?

First: God hears.

‘I have seen the misery of My people.’ God says ‘I have heard them crying.’

God knows your sadness. He knows your misery and He has heard your crying. ‘God is close to those whose hearts are breaking,’ says Psalm 34, ‘He saves those who are crushed in spirit.’

Peter weeps bitterly at his own failure – but a day will come when a risen Jesus will walk with Him by the sea of Galilee offering forgiveness and a new start. God hears.

Today Mary’s heart breaks – but a day is coming when her grief will be transformed to joy. God hears.

The disillusioned crowd cannot see a saviour – but He is there to be found even in the midst of what seems to be only weakness and defeat. ‘Remember me when you come into your Kingdom’ says the man crucified beside Him. ‘Today you will be with Me in paradise’ says Jesus. God hears.

What is the message of the cross?

God hears your cries.

But He doesn’t just hear our cries. He does more. ‘I have heard their crying’ says God, ‘And I have come down to rescue them.’

In Jesus God comes to us. He enters into our experience. He doesn’t just hear our crying. He shares our crying. Pain. Loneliness. Betrayal. Disappointment. Abandonment. We worship a God who knows our very bleakest places – for He has been to them and far beyond. ‘Surely’ writes Isaiah, ‘He took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows.’

‘I have heard their crying’ says God, ‘And I have come down to rescue them.’

God hears.

In Jesus God comes to us.

And on the cross He rescues us.

‘He was pierced for our transgressions’ says Isaiah, ‘crushed for our iniquities; and the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed.’

It’s alright to cry out to God. He’s close to those who cry out. To stand at the cross and cry out – to cry out feelings of guilt and failure; of disillusion and disappointment; anger; grief; loss.

The cross is a good place to bring those feelings and cry them out to God. For on the cross there are mighty outstretched arms that are ready to receive our tears and rage and sadness and failure.

Sorrow and tears for wrongdoing. Take them to the cross. God can use them to bring transformation. ‘He was pierced for our transgressions.’

Tears of rage and disappointment. Take them to the cross. God can use them to bring new hope. ‘The punishment that brought us peace was on Him.’

Tears of grief and sadness. Take them to the cross. God can use them to bring new life. ‘By His wounds’ says Isaiah ‘we are healed.’

God hears us; He comes to us and on the cross He rescues us

‘I have seen the misery of my people’ says God ‘I have heard them crying … and I have come to rescue them. With pierced hands and mighty outstretched arms I will redeem you’

 ***

1 Exodus 3:7; 6:6; Deuteronomy 5:15

2 John 19:25

‘You’re so kind’ we say. As our dinner guests hand over a box of chocolates. ‘You shouldn’t have. You’re so kind.’

What on earth is kindness? ‘The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace patience, kindness...’ Kindness. It sounds so mild doesn’t it? What does Paul have in mind? To understand it we have to look through the bible and see how God defines kindness. Who knows the story of David and Mephibosheth? You can find it in 2 Samuel.

After years of being chased and persecuted by his enemy King Saul David has become King of Israel. And having become King what is one of David’s first acts? In the ancient near east standard policy was to wipe out all the family of the previous King so that they couldn’t threaten your thone.

But what does David do? He asks a question. ‘Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness?’ ‘Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness?’ Saul his long sworn enemy. Saul his persecutor of years. ‘Is there anyone left of Saul’s house to whom I can show kindness?’ And he finds one of Saul’s servants Ziba and he says to him, "Is there no one still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show God's kindness?" And Ziba says, ‘Well, there is a grandson - a son of Jonathan lame in both feet.’ And David says, ‘Go and get him.’

So this grandson of Saul – Mephibosheth – who was dropped as a baby and unable to walk – is brought before David. And David says, "Don't be afraid,” - ‘Don’t be afraid.’ Well might Mephibosheth be afraid. He belongs to the house and line of Saul to David’s enemies. His grandfather is no longer King. He is penniless. Lame. Helpless. Without protection.

Mephibosheth comes before this new and powerful King in fear. But ‘don’t be afraid’ says David, ‘Don’t be afraid for I will surely show you kindness... I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table." Mephibosheth bows down and says, "Who am I that you should take notice of me? What is your servant, that you should notice a dead dog like me?" But David just summons Ziba back and says "Everything that belonged to Saul and his family now belongs to Mephibosheth. You and your sons and your servants are to farm the land for him and bring in the crops, so that he may be provided for. And Mephibosheth will always eat at my table."

David asks ‘Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show God’s kindness?’ So Mephibosheth – the grandson of David’s great enemy - ate at David's table all the days of his life - like one of the king's sons.

‘How can I show God’s kindness?’ asks David. And he picks up the helpless, penniless, frightened Mephibosheth and he raises him up to the table of the King and freely lavishes on the man once his enemy food and wealth and blessings.

The Kindness of God – that’s what David calls it. He wants to show God’s kindness. So why does David do this? Well David wasn’t always a King. No in fact he was the youngest and least important son of a humble farming family. Throughout his story David often asks, "Who am I, and what is my family that God should notice me?" But God in His kindness pours blessings on His life and he becomes King. And David’s response? To show God’s kindness to others. To show God’s kindness to Mephibosheth. To shower unearned blessings even on one once counted his enemy.

That’s God’s kindness: taking the helpless and the broken – even those who were counted amongst His enemies – and lifting them out of the dust and showering on them all kinds of gifts and blessings they never earned.

Imagine the scene. It’s 1990. A Belgian city in the middle of the night. Belgian football fans are waving flags and hooting car horns. They’ve won a match in the world cup. But I’m sitting on a pavement. And I’m crying. I’m 19. I’ve grown up in a Christian home. Ever since I can remember I’ve told people that Jesus died on the cross so that they can be forgiven. But tonight. Tonight for the first time - at a Christain conference - I’ve realised that Jesus died on the cross so that I can be forgiven too. There have been a lot of wrong things in my life and I have felt a great big gulf between me and God. But tonight. Tonight I have felt God say ‘All those wrong things – that list that stands against you – I’ll take care of that.’ And I have known that He has taken care of it – all of it – on the cross of Jesus – so that I can be forgiven. But I have felt more than forgiveness – much more. I have felt Him say, ‘you are my child.’ Even to me who has gone my own way for so long; to me who has rejected God and been His enemy – tonight I have felt Him say, ‘you are my child.’

Some words from Ephesians 2.

‘As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world ... gratifying the cravings of ... sinful nature and following its desires and thoughts... by nature deserving of wrath.

All you can do is sit in the dust and weep and look on in despair. The streets strewn with rubble and dust and blood and the unburied dead. Smoke hangs in the air. Every important, every beautiful building in the city is a blackened smouldering shell; the King’s palace a plundered wreck. The King himself well rumour has it they have killed his sons no more Kings will issue from his line and him they have blinded and led off into captivity. The city is now deserted You the only living being. Her walls broken Her people all gone. Rounded up and marched off, with every one of any note or influence, to a far foreign land.

Coming in from the country you are alone in wandering the empty broken streets. Once the capital of your people. Once the city of great King David. It’s all gone. A history and a people wiped out. Just eerie silence where once stood Jerusalem. Only you – and a few subsistence farmers like you are left to scratch a living from the surrounding earth. But worst worst of all the temple. Smouldering. Blackened. Desecrated. Everything of beauty touched and handled and stolen by foreign soldiers who know nothing of the sacred worth of what they touch. And the Holy of holies, the very heart of the temple the place where God Himself touches earth the symbol of His presence with your people torn open and defiled. Empty.

Where is God? What about His promises? All your hopes are turned to dust. No temple. Nowhere to worship. Abandoned. For generation after generation you took Him for granted. Flirted with other gods. And now that you long for Him it’s too late and your people are abandoned. The promised land flowing with milk and honey? Not any more. A wilderness more like. It’s as if you live in a desert of burning sand where no green shoot of hope can survive. A parched wilderness where a thirsting people stagger weak-kneed and defenceless at the mercy of ravenous beasts. Crying out, ‘Please God be our God again. Give us back life and hope.’

Such is the background to Isaiah 35 which we had read for us earlier. The writer of Isaiah offers the people of God people who – after the destruction of Jerusalem live metaphorically and perhaps literally in ‘a desert and the parched land’ words from God. In 587BC God’s people seem to face utter destruction and extinction. The mighty army of Babylon has destroyed their capital city, exiled all the country’s most able people, and wiped out the royal family. They are people without a future and a hope. Where is God? What about His promises? Life has turned to a wilderness. The future is bleak. Worship dry and dead. They thirst for God in a parched and barren land. Crying out, ‘please be our God again. Give us back life and hope.’

I wonder how many here today can identify with those thoughts? The Christian life has become a struggle worship has become dry the future seems bleak and God far away. Well what does God say to His broken thirsting people? Before we answer that question a little story. When I was a little boy when I was 5 my family lived in northern Kenya in a little town called Marsabit. To get to Marsabit from Nairobi you had to travel on a rough deeply corrugated bumpy track across the barren wilderness of the Kaisut desert. 170 miles through the baking heat across a dry rocky moonscape. Rain an ancient memory. Black volcanic rocks. Brittle desiccated bushes, dry burnt-up grasses, arid waterless river beds of burning sand. Lifeless. A parched and thirsting land. Relentless burning sun.

But… But… a time would come… once every five years or so… when after countless barren months a bank of plump bursting clouds from the coast hundreds of miles to the east would sweep in. And a drop of fresh life-giving water would fall in the barren dust. And then another and another until heaven opened and the land was drenched with beautiful refreshing rain. The burning sand of once dead rivers transformed into torrents. Streams of water in the desert. And… and within hours the whole desert, hundreds and hundreds of square miles of barren wilderness was transformed into a vast garden of flowers. The desiccated bushes covered in blossom. Fields of African daisies and morning glory stretching from horizon to horizon. Life where once was only death.

God’s people in Isaiah 35. Hopeless. Broken. Thirsting for God in a barren wilderness. What does God say to His broken people? The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy… Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert. The burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs. The vision is of the Judean desert coming to resemble the lush coastal land of Carmel and Sharon. Of the wilderness being covered in verdant forests like Lebanon. Of water flowing and flowers blooming where once was only burning sand. Of hope and refreshment coming to a people parched and thirsting for God. Of God coming to His crushed and weakened people to put right all that’s wrong.

Strengthen the feeble hands, says verse 3 steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts ,"Be strong, do not fear; your God will come, He will come with vengeance; with divine retribution He will come to save you." Vengeance. Retribution. Uncomfortable words. But the commentaries assure me that the Hebrew carries with it not so much the idea of revenge as justice. Beautiful justice. Beautiful justice for a people suffering all the horrors of invasion, defeat and exile. The vision is of a day when He will come and answer the deepest cry of their hearts. A day when He will come and put all things right.

"Be strong, do not fear;’ says the writer, ‘your God will come… He will come to save you ."And then, says the writer, the eyes of the blind will be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy. The vision is of a wide broad high way described from verse 8 onwards A highway right through the middle of what was once a bleak and dangerous wilderness. A straight highway full of people. With people streaming back from exile towards Jerusalem. The redeemed will walk there, and those the Lord has rescued will return. They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away. Broken, despised Jerusalem once again full of life - a place of worship – a meeting place for God and His people.

And who are these people who sing and laugh with joy? Who are the ‘redeemed’? Who are the clean people who walk on this highway? Just Jewish people? Not according to the book of Isaiah. Chapter 2 foresees the day when ‘all nations will stream up to the mountain of God in Jerusalem.’ Who are the redeemed? Who are the clean? “Come now, let us reason together," says the Lord in Isaiah chapter 1 "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow;’ Who are the clean? Who are the redeemed? They are those whom God has forgiven Those whom He has cleansed of all their wrong doing.

'You may feel like you are withering in the desert' God says to His broken people in Isaiah 35 'you may feel like this is the end - but the day will come when I will come to You and put all things right. The eyes of the blind will be opened, the lame will leap for joy and the mute tongue shout. Those who feel unclean will be forgiven. Sorrow and sighing will flee away and people of all nations will stream to worship God.'

Well were these words just wishful thinking? Or did this ever happen? And do they have anything to say to us this Advent? Well in 537BC probably in the lifetime of the man who put together Isaiah the exiles did begin to return and remarkably the Jewish nation and Jewish people survived. They eventually rebuilt the city walls and the temple. But Jerusalem never quite regained its former glory. And gladness and joy and singing don’t seem to have filled the lives of the returnees. The return didn’t banish all sorrow and sighing.

No Isaiah 35 is looking forward beyond the return from exile to something even better and more amazing. He is looking forward to a day when God will come and dwell with His people. A day when the eyes of the blind will be opened, the lame will leap for joy and the mute tongue shout. The unclean will be made clean and the guilty forgiven. "Be strong, do not fear;’ says the writer, ‘your God will come… He will come to save you. "

In our gospel reading today, Jesus is asked, ‘Are you the one who is to come?’ Are you the one long promised in scripture. And Jesus says, just look around you and see what’s happening: ‘the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. ’What Isaiah foretold is happening in the life of Jesus. Throughout the gospels we hear of Jesus restoring sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf- of Jesus making the unclean clean and enabling the lame to walk. In Jesus God has come to His people. He is the living water spoken of in Isaiah who can bring life in the desert; who can cause flowers of hope to blossom in the burning wilderness. He is the one whose death on a cross, and whose resurrection, allows the water of forgiveness and new life to flow into parched lives.

And one day a day that for us still lies in the future the promise of Isaiah is that peoples from all nations - the forgiven and the cleansed of every land - will stream to a new Jerusalem where God will dwell with them and make them His people and He will wipe away every tear and sorrow and sighing will flee away.

I wonder if today you identify with the defeated exiled people of God the ones Isaiah writes about? God seems far away. Life has turned to a wilderness. Worship seems dry and dead. You are thirsting for God in a parched and barren land. You long for sorrow and sighing to flee away. You long for God to come. Then this Advent may your longing and your waiting be answered. May you know Jesus the living water refreshing everything that’s dry and parched in your life. May you know Him giving new life and new hope. May He bring streams of water where now there is only burning sand and flowers where now are only barren rocks.

Hear the words of Isaiah: 'Say to those with fearful hearts, "Be strong, do not fear; your God will come… the burning sand will become a pool, the thirsty ground bubbling springs… Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away. "’

As this morning you come to His table to receive bread and wine bring your longing to God. Ask Him that even today heaven might open and drenching life-giving rain fall.