Sermon: "The God Option," December 22, 2019

Rev. Ryan Slifka
Isaiah 7:1-16

“Look… the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.” Immanuel, meaning “God-with-us.”i 

These words from the seventh chapter in Isaiah are likely familiar to you. But even they aren’t, you can probably connect the dots from here to Christmas, to pregnant Mary giving birth to baby Jesus. Generally, throughout Christian history your average believer has taken these Old Testament words as an obvious prediction of the birth of Jesus Christ. 

In our text, however, things aren’t quite so clear-cut. At least there isn’t an obvious straight line from here to the New Testament anyway. Because here in Isaiah these words aren’t intended to point us to Jesus. They are intended by Isaiah to be a sign, a proof, to a stubborn and skeptical king named Ahaz.  

By the time our passage begins Ahaz found himself in a bit of a pickle, to put it mildly. Ahaz was King of the southern kingdom of Judah from around 710-735 B.C. And around this time, the Assyrian Empire rose as a juggernaut, gobbling up people, resources and territories around the Middle East, and threatened to take down Judah and the other tiny countries around it. About a century earlier, a ragtag coalition of these little countries managed to band together and successfully hold the Assyrians at bay. Assyria was at it again, a couple of the countries—Syria (also known as Damascus), and the Northern kingdom of Israel—wanted to get the band back together to pull off another miracle defense. 

But this time, Ahaz wanted nothing to do with it. It was risky enough living in Assyria’s shadow without actively calling on their wrath. So Ahaz kept Judah out of it, trying to keep as neutral as Switzerland. Lest they become the next imperial target. 

Funny thing, though. As soon as Ahaz declared his country’s non-alignment, Syria and Israel immediately turned on him instead.  

They invaded, with the intent of regime change. Tossing him off the throne and installing a puppet who would join in against the Assyrian onslaught. It’s like being a kid and your friends trying to get you to help them gang up to finally defeat the school bully. But you chicken out, so they decide to beat you up instead. The outlook for Ahaz was not very rosey. 

Things weren’t so good for the Kingdom of Judah. Ahaz’s back was against the wall. So he was down to two options: 

Option #1: call in the cavalry. Ahaz could beg their great idolatrous enemy, the Assyrian army, that gang of vicious political gangsters, for aid. Knowing, of course, that gangsters will always want to run your shop in return for protection. 

But then there’s Option #2. Option 2 was to trust solely in Yahweh, the God of Israel to protect him and his kingdom. After all, Ahaz was a member of the royal house of King David. And God promised David that his house would last forever, and the capital city Jerusalem would always remain safe. 

So Ahaz is oscillating, going back and forth between option one and two. Go with the Assyrians. Or go with God. And this is where Isaiah the prophet steps in. 

 Isaiah’s been trying to convince Ahaz that he could rely on God’s promise. If you go with God, Isaiah tells him, you’ll leave these two invading armies in the ash-heaps. But if you trust the Assyrians over God, then you’re done for. “If you do not stand firm in faith,” Isaiah says, “if you do not stand firm in faith, you shall not stand at all.” 

Now, no doubt Isaiah can see the fear in Ahaz’ eyes. He needs some reassurance. So Isaiah says that God’ll give him a sign. A proof. Something he can rely on to know the promise is true. And here’s where that famous text I mentioned at the beginning of the sermon comes in.  

“Therefore,” says Isaiah. “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.” Immanuel, meaning, “God-with-us.” There’ll be a baby born, some where in Judea, and name him Immanuel. We’re not sure who the mother will be. Scholars debate whether it will be Isaiah’s wife, or the wife of the king. Or someone else. But this child, Isaiah says, will serve as a sign, as a hint from God. One that signals to you that if you refuse Assyria’s help, and if you cling to God’s promise of protection, you and your kingdom will be saved. You’ll be rescued from destruction.  

Sadly, Ahaz ended up choosing the Assyrian option. And history did play out against Ahaz. Ironically, eventually after he called on Assyrian help, they just decided to come on in and invade him anyway. No doubt Isaiah couldn’t help but say to Ahaz “I told you so.” 

But can we blame Ahaz?  

Option 1: trade everything you stand for and call in a favour from the world’s largest superpower for the sake of your own preservation. A promise backed by might and weapons and armies. Or option 2: trust God. A promise with no guarantee of any kind, except for the birth of some baby. 

How can we blame the guy, really? You can’t base foreign policy decisions on some sort of second hand spiritual mumbo-jumbo. He needed help NOW. He needed power, control, he needed an army. What help could the birth of some special baby, or some normal baby with a special name, do someone like Ahaz? What could the delivery of some newborn do someone with real-world, immediate problems? Better to hedge your bets with the devil you know. 

Now, I mentioned earlier that this text, this promise of a woman with child who would give birth to a baby boy named Immanuel, was taken as a direct prediction of the birth of Jesus. That may not be the case, at least not directly. But you can understand why the early Christians heard echoes of the birth of Jesus here. After all, the story we read every Christmas is about God giving a sign in the form of a newborn baby. 

“To you,” says the gospel of Luke. “To you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” Just as in the case of Ahaz in the days of Isaiah, Luke’s gospel presents us with a sign from the divine in the form of a child. As Isaiah’s was a sign of salvation, so is Luke’s, the coming of a Saviour. But where Isaiah’s was a sign of salvation, of rescue, for Ahaz, his people, and the city of Jerusalem… Luke’s got his sights set higher. For Luke, this baby is a sign, a hint from God signalling not only the salvation of a king, a people, a city from oppressors. But one who could pointing to and bearing the salvation, the healing, the liberation of all the world. And like Isaiah, Luke tells us that it’s available to us simply by trusting the promise. Living our lives according to it. By clinging to it for dear life. 

But, like Ahaz, we too find it hard to believe that the birth of one baby could have such significance, could have such meaning, could have such import for our lives. In a world filled with problems like ours, who could blame us, really? We’re surrounded like Ahaz on all sides in a world of mass migrations and refugee crises. Of poverty, famine, perpetual war and environmental destruction. And in our personal lives, we are crippled by debt, scarred by addictions, and wounded by broken families. What’s the use of a baby two thousand years ago compared to the power of scientific advancement? What’s the use of an ancient newborn put side-by-side with the wonders of technological progress? What good’s a sign like this for people like us with real struggles and real problems when weapons, when power, when money and physical stuff actually seems to get things done? In a world like ours what good is a baby. What good is God? We’ll take Option 1—the Assyrian option—any day of the week. 

And yet, here we are. Here we are, yet again. Another Sunday at church. Another Christmas around the corner. Even though we find these promises hard to believe, the miracle is that somehow we’re still here. Somehow we’re drawn to this ancient story yet again. And it’s because deep-down inside we know the story the world lives by is a lie. Option #1, the Assyrian option, is a lie because it’s failed. It failed then, and it fails now. Our dissatisfaction isn’t simply a problem with us. The story of strength has failed to bring us peace among nations. And it’s failed to bring us happiness at home. It’s failed to bring us salvation anywhere. Certainly we continue, like Ahaz, to cling to that story out of fear. We put our trust in politics, in career, in technology. We gobble up money, drugs, or anything else that promises us life. All the while avoiding the lesser-beaten path of generosity, vulnerability, peacemaking and true forgiveness, because it’s no way to run an empire. It’s no way to get ahead. 

But we’re here today because deep down inside we long for option #2—the God option—to be true. 

We long for a different way. We long for another world to be born. We long for a salvation that has not yet fully come. To touch down in our lives, and to bring healing in its wings. Even though we believe that it’s too good to be true, we truly long for it to be so with every fiber of our being. 

And so, seeing as how you’re all here—yet again, or for the first time—I would hate to disappoint. I am here to deliver to you that ancient promise, yet again. That the Lord himself has given you a sign. A sign that the longing you have isn’t just a figment of your imagination. It isn’t wishful thinking, it isn’t simply an evolutionary adaptation to keep the species moving along. But that the child Mary brought to term long ago is a hint, a signal of our salvation. The one wrapped in swaddling clothes and lain in a manger is a sign straight from the source and heart of all things, from underneath the ground of all being. A sign that bearing good news of great joy: that this longing we carry in us is real. And it’s true. And it’s not only real, and true, it’s Immanuel. It’s God-with-us coming to term. Salvation we can experience right here in the flesh, the future who is waiting born right now in us to heal our world of suffering and pain. The joy and peace we all long for is already given, if only we’re ready to believe. If only we’re willing to cling in trust. If we’re able to risk it all on option 2. And pin all our hopes… against all odds on the baby in the manger. 

So, friends, brothers and sisters. This may be another Sunday, another holiday season where we gather yet again with all of our doubts, all of our longings, all of our confusions and distress. But may it also be the day where the good news of great joy for all people finally settles in our hearts for good. May our deepest longings be transformed into the life-saving conviction that there is not only a God, but that in Christ, we have been given the gift of God-with-us. And that with God-with-us, we are not left only with option 1—the Assyrian option. We are not enslaved to the way of fear, and grasping, and control. But that in Christ we are freed to become people of option #2—people of the God option. We have been freed to live lives of generosity, forgiveness, humility and peace. Knowing the world we long for is already on the way. 

“Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son.” May every heart prepare him room. 

AMEN.