In recent weeks, conversation in our home has included words and phrases like “second term,” “fiscal cliff” and “unrepresented.” And as we’ve entered this time of Advent, it’s been wonderful to focus on something more stable and less unsound than the raising of a debt ceiling, party lines that are supposed to be crossed instead of bickered over, and that uneasy feeling inside that Washington and Sacramento just don’t nor probably can figure it out.
Lest I make my first politically motivated blogpost on Enjoying the Surface, let me share with you this past Sunday’s church service, where the familiar passage in Isaiah 9 was read. This is the prophet’s passage about the Messiah that would one day come to Israel and save it from evil attacks and raise up a new era of hope and restoration where “the government shall be upon His shoulders.”
What a minute. . . . Did that passage say “the government?” Referring to those same ones that can’t ever seem to figure it out in their own wisdom (my southern friends would say insert a “bless their hearts” here)? “Shall be upon His shoulders”? What did Isaiah mean here? Would the coming-soon Messiah be a political leader that would finally end Israel’s political restlessness and restore it to what had been under King David, and then some? Whoever this Messiah was to be, they were to be radically different than anything Israel, or the nations of the day—or the nations of our day—had ever seen.
There is new life in these words. Words of hope. Of longing. Of a desire for settledness within. Of a conviction that the desire for wholeness that each of us hold so dear was to be brought to Israel by that long-awaited Messiah.
I find as well that these words of Isaiah are also words of caution—caution about not looking to my fellow man to fix the issues of the day. For Isaiah, the words were a call to a recently liberated people to not look to their surroundings for their long-term hope. For us some millennia later, the message is the same. One’s fellow man cannot provide any sense of security for the long-haul. Rather, that security can only come from the One for Whom this Advent is all about.
And this is what is so amazing about Advent, about that first Coming of the Messiah. For that long-term security and hope is found in that helpless Babe born in a manger. So profound and paradoxical of a birth—the hopes and fears of all the years were met in Him that one night, says the Christmas carol. Jesus of Nazareth was indeed the “Light of the World” and it is in Him whom we can find a hope that doesn’t go away. May each of us seek Him in this season.