Inviting, Inspiring, and Investing in The Way of Jesus Christ

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Sermons and other Reflections

Sermon: December 11, 2022

Preacher: Rev Ryan Slifka

Scriptures: Isaiah 35:1-10; Matthew 11:2-11

i.

Last week we all heard from John the Baptist.

John, wearing a camel-hair coat, long straggly beard, subsisting on locusts and wild honey. John preaching repentance under the threat of divine judgment. John receiving confessions and baptizing huge crowds down by the riverside. John declaring that the Messiah is coming with the Holy Spirit and fire.

This week, though, John’s behind bars. Which is a little surprising for us, maybe. Today guy like John might end up in the psych ward for a week. But here he’s in prison.

And he’s not just in prison, he’s on death row. Why? Well, he publicly criticized Herod Antiapas, the puppet king of Judea, for marrying his brother’s wife. Again, seems like a harsh outcome, and not a big deal for us today. But according to the Old Testament, Leviticus 18 and Deuteronomy 25, marrying your brother’s wife is considered incest. It’s a clear rupture of the law of God, and broadly accepted social conventions. Herod figured as a wealthy and powerful king he was above the law that ordinary people had to follow. So John held him and his bride to account. And he ended up locked away. Awaiting execution.

ii.

Now, you might remember that when John was on the outside he was pretty keen on Jesus. Jesus was greater than him, and John wasn’t fit to tie his sandals. John proclaimed Jesus as the One sent by God who would come and finally set the world right, freeing it from sin and death. “Behold,” he said elsewhere. “Behold the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” John was as sure as anybody that Jesus was the Messiah. And the kingdom of God, the New Age of justice, righteousness and peace was finally to come. This is the guy!

Today, though, John isn’t quite so on fire for the Lord. From his prison cell John’s slips out a note to Jesus via some of his friends. It doesn’t read, “keep it up!” or “I’m with you all the way.” No. “Are you the one who is to come?” it says. “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

His head’s on the chopping block, facing death. If Jesus was the Messiah, then surely the one who prophesied his coming wouldn’t be doing hard labour. If Jesus was the Messiah, the least he could have done was organize a jail break. John thought he’d be out there dispensing judgment like chopping down fruitless trees and tossing them into the fire. But after all his faithfulness, his preparation, his hard-work and dedication to the cause it looks like for John it’s all gonna end in chains.

No doubt John expected to see real change in his lifetime. It was easier to believe Jesus was the Messiah at the beginning when the future was all teeming with potential. But it all looks mighty different from behind bars. From where he sits it’s all getting worse, rather than better.[i] What kind of Messiah allows stuff like this to happen?

iii.

Of course, John’s doubt is perfectly understandable. It was easier to believe Jesus was the Messiah in the heady days of large crowds than it is in the brutality of solitary confinement. In that way, John spells out quite simply the nature of faith.

In March of 2021, Pope Francis embarked on a tour of Iraq. You may know that since the Iraq War the Christian community has drastically shrunk. Before the war it numbered about 1.4 million, but now it’s about 300 000. Many have fled, while others have succumbed to persecution by Islamic militants. After visiting bombed out mosques and churches Francis said he had “no words” after seeing scale of destruction. “Human cruelty,” he said, “our cruelty, is impossible to believe.”[ii]

I remember reading this story online, and one of the comments said simply, “so much for God.” “So much for God.” Now, I can’t remember who said it, and I don’t know who they were. Probably just another internet troll. But this little comment did bring up a question. How can a community like this that has suffered so much continue to cling to their belief in a good and righteous God, a God of justice, one who works for good of those who love him? It was far easier to believe in a time of stability, but if there’s anything we learn from John the Baptist in today’s text, doubt is inevitable from the vantage point of persecution.

And we don’t have to experience the extremes of persecution to feel that way, either. We can look at the world with it’s war and violence and wonder how God allows such things to happen. Even in our personal lives—the death of a child, a cancer diagnosis. It’s easy to see the glory of the Lord in a rainbow, the face of a baby, or civil rights legislation. But it’s so much harder to believe when our backs are up against the wall, or the future doesn’t seem so bright. Whether it’s from the vantage point of a prison cell, a bombed-out church, or a broken marriage, it’s far easier to say: so much for God. It’s easy to wonder: Is Jesus the one who is to come? Or should we look somewhere else for our salvation?

iv.

Now, I’m not exactly sure what Jesus’ response would be to this Facebook criticism. My sense is that Jesus is more of the face-to-face type. But I can tell you the answer he sent to John:

"Go and tell John what you hear and see,” Jesus says: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: 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. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me."

Now, here Jesus is invoking the prophet Isaiah from our Old Testament text for this morning. John, of course would have recognized the words immediately:

“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
   and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
then the lame shall leap like a deer,
   and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.”

John would have understood exactly what Jesus was saying. He was saying yes, the hour has indeed come. Yes, the prophet’s words are being fulfilled, they’re coming true right here and now. God’s kingdom has touched down, the time is at hand. In me, Jesus says, the new age has now dawned.

John was the greatest prophet, even more than a prophet—he came announcing the New Age. But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. “Blessed are those who take no offense at me.” Jesus says that he is, indeed, the One who is to come, no need to look for another.

It’s clear Jesus is saying that he is the One to come. But notice the signs: Certainly, Jesus healed the sick. And he gave sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, walking to those who could only crawl, called Lazarus out of death in the tomb. He also fed the hungry. But not all of them. Jesus performed some incredible acts, but not many, in the grand scheme of things. And he did it on the margins. With people of low importance, little fanfare across social media platforms. And, in the end, he didn’t topple Rome or usher in a new Kingdom of Israel. But he was killed on a cross. None of these acts have that grand, decisive sweep we might expect.

And this is, in the end, the point. This is how God works. How God shows herself to us in the world. How God is making all things new. Not through a shock and awe campaign, hitting the world like a nuclear missile. Nothing cataclysmic or revolutionary. But think of how Christ comes at Christmas: angels come, not to the king, but ordinary people, shepherds. Not to a palace in Jerusalem, but a barn in Bethlehem: “This will be a sign to you” they say. “This will be a sign: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Here’s how one of my favourite preachers, Fleming Rutledge puts it:

“The mystery of God’s activity in the world is that the tiny signs of faithfulness and love and mercy and hope, the tiny signs enacted by the Christian community, are the pointers to the glory that will come when the Lord takes his power to himself. This is not the way I would have done it; it is not the way you would have done it; [it’s not the way John would have done it.] No wonder we take offense. You and I would have made it obvious, so that it would have stunned everybody and made argument and questioning irrelevant. But the glory [of the Lord], which one day will break over the universe in a crescendo of song from the angels and the archangels and all the company of heaven—that glory is secreted for the time being the small deeds and the little prayers of the church of God. That is the way that God planned it, for reasons we will someday understand in the kingdom of God.”[iii]

God’s work is largely hidden, visible only to those who’ve been given the eyes to see. All these signs are small, but they are small signs—they point past themselves in the direction of the total healing and peace that will one day come. To see them is a matter of faith.

As in John’s case it’s not the way any of us would like or expect. This is why Jesus says “blessed are those who take no offense at me.” He expects that we will take offense at him, that we will find it easier to say “so much for God,” and harder to believe. But if we’re able to see them as signs, then we’ll find ourselves blessed, and encouraged, rather than depressed, and discouraged.

Back to Pope Francis’ visit to Iraq. There he visited a church in Qaraqosh, a Christian town in the Nineveh Plains. This was a site of violent back and forth warfare, and the city was occupied and brutalized by the Islamic state. The local Christian community still lives in constant fear of another occupation. If there were ever a fertile place for doubt, this was it. “Is Jesus the One who is to come, or should we wait for another?”

And yet, children lined the aisles in excitement for the pope’s visit. And his words were incredibly hopeful. His answer was like the one Jesus gave John.

“Our gathering here today,” the Pope said. “Our gathering shows that terrorism and death never have the last word. The last word belongs to God and to his Son, the conqueror of sin and death. Even amid the ravages of terrorism and war, we can see, with the eyes of faith, the triumph of life over death… Today,” he proclaimed. “Today I can see at first hand that the Church in Iraq is alive, that Christ is alive and at work in this, his holy and faithful people.”[iv]

Remember—this is a community that has shrunk to a fifth of its size over two decades, a community that’s met persecution and death. But Francis told him what he saw. With the eyes of faith, Francis said, they would be blessed to see their survival, their endurance, not as a source of despair but as a sign of Christ’s presence. Their hopeful willingness to gather in spite of the possible danger was a sneak preview of God’s final victory to come.

The good news, brothers and sisters is that signs of Christ’s power and presence and kingdom are all around us. Though they’re largely hidden, they’re visible to the eyes of faith.

They’re all around. Look for them and you’ll see. The incredible witness of Iraqi Christians is one place. But also here. In our own community and our own back yard. In sandwiches for hungry souls at the soup kitchen. In prayers for the hopeless in hurting, visits for the lost and lonely. Addictions overcome and forgiveness proclaimed. In grace extended and broken hearts mended. Let them, in Isaiah’s words, “strengthen your weak hands, and make firm your feeble knees.” Let them bring you hope, let them stoke in your faith and courage. Because these are signs of the One who came at Christmas with healing in his wings, and the One who is to come again on the last day, to finish what he started. And bring his exiles finally home.

Look for the signs, look for them, and tell your friends and neighbours “what you hear and see.” Tell those who are sick and weary and without hope. Tell them "Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you." Tell them that one day the ransomed of the Lord shall return, that they shall come to Zion with singing… that everlasting joy shall be upon your heads and theirs, they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and signing shall flee away…

For, like Francis said, the last word belongs to God and to his Son, the conqueror of sin and death.

And to him be all glory, honour, and praise.

Amen.


[i] “From John’s perspective, renewal may not seem to be occurring. After all, he is in prison, which seems a strange place to be for the one who has pointed to Jesus as the one who has some to set the captives free.” Stanley Hauerwas, Matthew: Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2006), 114.

[ii] Claire Giangrave, “On historic Iraqi trip, Pope Francis courts criticism, inspires hope,” The Christian Century, March 22, 2021, https://www.christiancentury.org/article/news/historic-iraqi-trip-pope-francis-courts-criticism-inspires-hope .

[iii] Fleming Rutledge, “The Glory of Lebanon,” in Advent: the Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2018), 353.

[iv] Giangrave, “On historic Iraqi trip.”