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Monday, December 17, 2007 Here is your God who will come It is nearly impossible to read Isaiah without sensing the depth of his pain. The city he knows and loves is vanishing – threatened by corruption, greed and, as Walter Brueggemann says, “an uncaring, unnoticing public on its uncaring way to ruin” (The Threat of Life, 74). It is nearly impossible for me to read Isaiah without sensing the depth of my own pain. The church I know and love is vanishing – threatened by doctrinal narrowness, by a religious legalism that usurps genuine relationship, and by an institutional protection which breeds suspicion and exclusion. As a lesbian clergywoman, my soul and psyche are raw from the wounds inflicted by our policies. The church that once nurtured me in the faith, affirmed my gifts for ministry and called me to a life of justice-seeking has now become, for me, a duplicitous and dangerous place. My sanctuary has been destroyed. I need Advent and its reminder that it is into such darkness that God comes. Isaiah talks about this coming in terms of “vengeance” and “recompense.” These are not words I would use. Perhaps I would talk about a Spirit being born among and within me that will embolden me for courageous and authentic living. Perhaps I would steal from The Grinch and talk about an irresistible love that will cause “hearts to grow three sizes that day.” We may line up different words to explain our belief in a God who is attentive to our sorrows, but the sustaining hope of this season is the same: the trouble that is won’t always be. Advent doesn’t explain how or when this will happen; it only promises that it will. God is coming and a withering earth will flower and flourish. God is coming and a broken humanity will be put back together, compassionate and rejoicing. |
