I have always been interested in the art, the craft of titling books. When scanning for my next book to read I am often drawn in by the title. I can remember coming across Norman McLean’s novel, A River Runs Through It. There was something about the title that intrigued me. So, I picked it up off the shelf and read the first few sentences: 

“In our family there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing; grace was in the air, and grace came by art and art did not come easy. My father was a Presbyterian minister and a fly fisherman. He taught us the grace of the woods and the grace of the river. He taught us that a man could be a sinner and a fisherman, and that the two were not incompatible.” 

I was hooked.

This summer I saw promotions and advertisements for a streaming series, “The Summer I Turned Pretty.” I suspected it was a young adult romance novel – not exactly a book for me – but I thought that was the kind of title that was intriguing and sure to have captured the intended audience. 

I thought to myself, “Self…maybe you should write a book, “The Winter I Turned Old.” I am sure there is an audience out there. Don’t worry I am not having a life crisis. It is probably just the experience of all the little aches and pains, shorter days, longer nights and colder weather. This Florida native is suffering the cruelest of circumstances: I have even started wearing long pants.

As we approach the shortest day of our year, as the light of day is consumed by the edges of night, the grip of winter tightens, and collars are turned up against the chill air, it is then that these bones feel their age, and the minor inconveniences of aches and pains remind me of my mortality. Yet there is a great reading that comes our way and is to be recommended: the readings of Gaudete Sunday.

I was “hooked” by the opening lines of the first reading from Isaiah: “The desert and the parched land will exult; the steppe will rejoice and bloom. They will bloom with abundant flowers, and rejoice with joyful song.”  Isaiah certainly has a way with words.

This December I have been preaching on the Book of Isaiah, one of the great prophets of Israel and Judah. Every weekday of Advent so far, unless there was a solemnity or feast day, the first reading has been from Isaiah. Today our first reading was Isaiah 35 and it is a great reading with wonderful images of renewal, restoration, hope and reasons to rejoice because of the promises of the Lord.

Do you need those promises today? Maybe today is a good day,  but we all have those times in our lives when we need to know that God’s promises are for us. We need those promises to lift us up that we might rejoice in the Lord always.

Jerusalem and Judah had those times when they needed to be reassured that the Lord was with them and for them. The chapters leading up to our first reading describes a time when Jerusalem and all of Judah was under the threat of one most powerful nation of that time. The Assyrian Empire was expanding southward, already having conquered the 10 northern tribes. In the south, people felt helpless, afraid, and uncertain whether God would save them. The political and religious leadership was a disaster. As a result Jerusalem seemed vulnerable and the people were disheartened and spiritually weak. Chapters 28–34 a running admonishment, warnings against foreign alliances instead of trusting in God, and rebukes for spiritual blindness of leaders and people alike. 

The crisis is quite real and existential. Assyrian invasion and victory means exile, destruction, and the end of the nation. Isaiah 34 is a chapter full of judgment, destruction, and despair. The land is pictured as scorched and empty. It is an image of how the people feel: abandoned, disheartened, and unsure of God’s presence. Into this atmosphere of anxiety and judgment comes the promise of chapter 35

“The desert and the parched land will exult; the steppe will rejoice and bloom. They will bloom with abundant flowers, and rejoice with joyful song” (Isa 35: 1-2)

Into that darkness, Isaiah says: “Strengthen the hands that are feeble…Say to those whose hearts are frightened: Be strong, fear not!” Why? Because God is coming, not only to judge, but to save, to heal, to restore, to bring His people home. This is the heart of Gaudete Sunday. This is at the center of God’s promises of a Savior – and the proper response is to rejoice.

We rejoice because God brings life out of the deserts of our lives. Every one of us knows what a “desert” feels like:

• A season of prayer that feels dry
• A relationship that has grown tepid
• A grief that just seems relentless
• A worry that burdens our thoughts and keeps us up nights
• A sin we have struggled to uproot
• A disappointment that is slowly hardening our hearts

These are the real deserts of human life. Isaiah is not being poetic for the sake of poetry. He is speaking to real human loneliness, fear, and exhaustion. 

Isaiah reminds us that the desert is not our destiny. God can irrigate what seems dry, renew what seems dead, and bring joy where there has only been sorrow. Advent reminds us that God is always beginning something new.

We rejoice because God is already at work even when we cannot see it. Gardens don’t bloom overnight and neither do deserts. New growth slowly arises, quietly and often unnoticed. In the same way, God’s grace often works quietly and invisibly:

• A small shift in our conscience
• A softening of the heart
• A desire to pray
• A willingness to forgive
• A new patience with someone difficult
• A sudden moment of clarity
• An unexpected sense of peace

These are signs that God is already making the desert bloom. We rejoice not because we have everything figured out, but because God is acting even in the places we cannot yet see. And we especially rejoice because God comes to heal, not to condemn. 

Gaudete Sunday is an invitation to recognize the God who heals. Isaiah proclaims: “the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared; then will the lame leap like a stag, then the tongue of the mute will sing.” God does not come into our lives with a running list of our failures. He comes like a physician who knows exactly where we are wounded and brings the healing and cure we have long needed, clarity of thought, strength to get up and move ahead, and a pathway home. 

We rejoice because God is leading us home. The reading ends with a beautiful line: The “ransomed will return and enter Zion singing, crowned with everlasting joy; they will meet with joy and gladness, sorrow and mourning will flee” This is the promise at the center of Advent: that the God who comes to us at Christmas and the God who will come again in glory is the same God who is even now leading us, step by step, toward the fullness of life. No matter where we have wandered, no matter what has grown dry or is broken, God’s desire is to lead us home.

And, big picture, we rejoice because God is faithful to His promises. So… 

• Rejoice, not because life is perfect, but because God is making all things new.
• Rejoice, not because the desert is gone, but because God is making the garden bloom.
• Rejoice, not because the journey is over, but because God is walking it with you.
• Rejoice, because God remembers, heals, strengthens, and restores

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice”

Amen.

Image credit: Prophet Isaiah, Mosaic, Right of Lunette, South Wall of Presbytery, Basilica of San Vitale | PD-US | scripture image from Canva CC-0