This is the first in a series for Advent from our work in progress called "Prairie Liturgy."
Isaiah 40:27 – 31; Psalm 42:1 – 6a
December 3, 2017
First Presbyterian Church, Sterling, IL
Christina Berry
Our first reading for this first Sunday of Advent comes from the prophet Isaiah, as he exhorts the weary nation of Israel to wait for God. As waiting is an essential element of Advent, it was an essential for the Israelites. They were not usually prone to waiting or trusting for very long. They preferred to get on with things and let the God of the Covenant catch up to them. This usually did not go well for them. In this familiar passage, Isaiah insists that they call to mind the faithfulness of God, and the provision that God will make for those who are weary, exhausted, struggling, if only they will wait for God: Let’s listen for God’s word to us in Isaiah 40:27 – 31
Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel,
“My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God”?
Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.
The experience of yearning, and the expression of longing for God is beautifully expressed in Psalm 42. The Psalmist is waiting, deeply desiring connection with God, and so remembering worship, the joyful procession to the temple, and the ineffable pleasure of gathering for worship, prayer, and singing. Let’s listen for God’s word to us in Psalm 42:1 – 6a:
As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, “Where is your God?”
These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I went with the throng, and led them in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival.
Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.
This is the word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
You might have noticed a certain little play on words in the sermon title, “Waiting for God.” It’s a twist of the title of Samuel Becket’s play, “Waiting for Godot.” That play has been called the most famous parable of the 20th century. In it, the main characters, “Didi and Gogo” simply wait for Godot. They do nothing else in Act I, and they do the same in Act II. Gogo says, “Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful.”
That’s what the first Sunday of Advent feels like. In all the whirl of busy people rushing to get their shopping started, and all the noise of Christmas music and sales and promotions, Advent is a still point.
Nobody comes, nobody goes. It isn’t Christmas. But it isn’t a play by Becket, either. Advent is flat like the prairie, featureless, quiet. We are waiting, weary, weak. We are yearning for something to happen, longing for someone to come. We are waiting.
Like a deer, panting for the water, we are thirsty for the presence of God. The salty taste of our tears on our lips makes us weep even more. Our throats are dry and our hearts are hungry, and all around us people ask, “Where is your God?”
Out on the prairie, you look around and there is horizon, and there is nothing coming, not as far as the eye can see. You know that feeling – you may be experiencing it now. It’s that feeling of being out in the open with nothing to protect you, that feeling that you are teetering on the edge of despair, and the next strong wind that sweeps across the prairie will just knock you flat.
It’s that feeling that you’ve done everything you know to do,
said every word you know to say,
prayed every prayer you know to pray
and still, there is silence.
And so we remember, like the prophet and the psalmist. We remember that our God is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. God does not faint or grow weary. God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless.
We remember this truth, and we wait upon the Lord.
We remember, as we pour out our souls:
walking in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts.
We remember the songs of thanksgiving.
And we remember our future!
We remember what God has promised us: Immanuel, which means God with us. The promised one is coming, and though we may not be able to see him on the far horizon, not just yet, we sing the hopeful songs of Advent; we pour out our hearts in prayer; and we wait.
We wait with hope.
As we wait, we light the first small candle to brighten the dark night,
we gather at his table to receive the bread of life and the cup of salvation,
which sustain us and strengthen us.
Around us, the voices grow louder, more insistent.
Maybe they say, “C’mon! It’s Christmas! Celebrate! Buy things! Be happy!”
Perhaps they say, “Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful.”
But we know that while we are waiting, everything is about to happen.
A young woman is pregnant; a manger is waiting.
The promised one is about to be born, everybody is about to go to the stable,
and it is not awful, but awe-inspiring, and beautiful.
We wait in hope.
We wait for God, for we shall again sing praise.
That’s what it means to be waiting for God.
Let that Spirit begin to grow in us,
one tiny light flickering into the darkness of the night,
to renew us and strengthen us as we wait.
Amen.
Original artwork by Meg Rift (c) 2017
Isaiah 40:27 – 31; Psalm 42:1 – 6a
December 3, 2017
First Presbyterian Church, Sterling, IL
Christina Berry
Our first reading for this first Sunday of Advent comes from the prophet Isaiah, as he exhorts the weary nation of Israel to wait for God. As waiting is an essential element of Advent, it was an essential for the Israelites. They were not usually prone to waiting or trusting for very long. They preferred to get on with things and let the God of the Covenant catch up to them. This usually did not go well for them. In this familiar passage, Isaiah insists that they call to mind the faithfulness of God, and the provision that God will make for those who are weary, exhausted, struggling, if only they will wait for God: Let’s listen for God’s word to us in Isaiah 40:27 – 31
Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel,
“My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God”?
Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.
The experience of yearning, and the expression of longing for God is beautifully expressed in Psalm 42. The Psalmist is waiting, deeply desiring connection with God, and so remembering worship, the joyful procession to the temple, and the ineffable pleasure of gathering for worship, prayer, and singing. Let’s listen for God’s word to us in Psalm 42:1 – 6a:
As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, “Where is your God?”
These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I went with the throng, and led them in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival.
Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.
This is the word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
You might have noticed a certain little play on words in the sermon title, “Waiting for God.” It’s a twist of the title of Samuel Becket’s play, “Waiting for Godot.” That play has been called the most famous parable of the 20th century. In it, the main characters, “Didi and Gogo” simply wait for Godot. They do nothing else in Act I, and they do the same in Act II. Gogo says, “Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful.”
That’s what the first Sunday of Advent feels like. In all the whirl of busy people rushing to get their shopping started, and all the noise of Christmas music and sales and promotions, Advent is a still point.
Nobody comes, nobody goes. It isn’t Christmas. But it isn’t a play by Becket, either. Advent is flat like the prairie, featureless, quiet. We are waiting, weary, weak. We are yearning for something to happen, longing for someone to come. We are waiting.
Like a deer, panting for the water, we are thirsty for the presence of God. The salty taste of our tears on our lips makes us weep even more. Our throats are dry and our hearts are hungry, and all around us people ask, “Where is your God?”
Out on the prairie, you look around and there is horizon, and there is nothing coming, not as far as the eye can see. You know that feeling – you may be experiencing it now. It’s that feeling of being out in the open with nothing to protect you, that feeling that you are teetering on the edge of despair, and the next strong wind that sweeps across the prairie will just knock you flat.
It’s that feeling that you’ve done everything you know to do,
said every word you know to say,
prayed every prayer you know to pray
and still, there is silence.
And so we remember, like the prophet and the psalmist. We remember that our God is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. God does not faint or grow weary. God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless.
We remember this truth, and we wait upon the Lord.
We remember, as we pour out our souls:
walking in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts.
We remember the songs of thanksgiving.
And we remember our future!
We remember what God has promised us: Immanuel, which means God with us. The promised one is coming, and though we may not be able to see him on the far horizon, not just yet, we sing the hopeful songs of Advent; we pour out our hearts in prayer; and we wait.
We wait with hope.
As we wait, we light the first small candle to brighten the dark night,
we gather at his table to receive the bread of life and the cup of salvation,
which sustain us and strengthen us.
Around us, the voices grow louder, more insistent.
Maybe they say, “C’mon! It’s Christmas! Celebrate! Buy things! Be happy!”
Perhaps they say, “Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful.”
But we know that while we are waiting, everything is about to happen.
A young woman is pregnant; a manger is waiting.
The promised one is about to be born, everybody is about to go to the stable,
and it is not awful, but awe-inspiring, and beautiful.
We wait in hope.
We wait for God, for we shall again sing praise.
That’s what it means to be waiting for God.
Let that Spirit begin to grow in us,
one tiny light flickering into the darkness of the night,
to renew us and strengthen us as we wait.
Amen.
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