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| Where's your wilderness? |
This sermon was preached on the Second Sunday of Advent. A video of the sermon may be found by clicking here. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:
©2024 The Rev. Seth Olson
Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.
Today’s readings transport us into the wilderness, both literal and metaphorical. Out there, voices are calling us to repentance, preparation, and ultimately, to come home. The Song of Zechariah, Malachi's prophecy, Paul’s joyful thanksgiving, and Luke’s depiction of John the Baptist, all draw our attention to God’s presence unfolding in the world, breaking into the silence, and transforming our lives. Observing the richness of these things taking place within today’s powerful lessons, invites us to also journey into wilderness to listen deeply to voices crying, trusting that they hold an Advent message for us as we await Christ’s coming past, present, and yet to come.
In Malachi, we heard the promise of a messenger preparing the way. This path of refinement and purification imitates fire trying metal. Thus, walking this way is rarely comfortable, much like the wilderness can be. However, whenever we do take Christ’s way of love, God transforms our hearts and lives. Malachi pointed to this metamorphosis as he prophesied about Jesus’ forerunner, John the Baptizer.
When John, the prophet of the Most High God, emerged in Luke’s Gospel, he cut a surprising figure. He was not dressed in priestly robes or seated in places of honor instead choosing to wear camel’s hair and to locate himself outside the confines of the religious structure of that day. John was a voice crying out in the wilderness, fulfilling the words of Isaiah: “Prepare the way of the Lord.”
You might be wondering, why did this voice have to cry out in the wilderness, as opposed to civilization? The wilderness stands out as both a physical and spiritual place of preparation. In the wild we leave behind distractions, comforts, and pretenses. It is where Zechariah (John the Baptist’s father) was silenced, forced to listen and reflect during Elizabeth’s pregnancy. It is where John heard the word of God, not in the bustling city of Jerusalem but in the stillness of the desert. The wilderness is where God strips away the noise of the world to speak directly to our hearts.
Prioritizing times to journey into the wild also helps us to hear God’s still small voice more clearly. When we do, we might be surprised by what God is saying, much like the way that God surprisingly spoke to a wild preacher’s kid instead of the powerful political figures of First Century Israel.
You may have noticed that Luke’s Gospel account situated John’s ministry within the context of influential figures—Emperor Tiberius, Governor Pilate, ruler Herod, and high priests Annas and Caiaphas. Yet, the word of God bypassed all these prominent men to land upon John, the son of an aging priest and a mother who once carried a promise too good to be true. As outlandish as it sounds, God often chooses the unlikely, the overlooked, and the unexpected to carry out divine purposes. I’ve heard it phrased this way: God does not call the qualified, God qualifies the called.
This pattern continues today. God often bypasses the powerful to speak to the lowly. Who are the voices in our wilderness calling us to repentance and transformation? Is it a child asking us to care for creation? A stranger reminding us of our shared humanity? God is trying to speak to us, but are we making the time to listen? The Advent season invites us to listen for those unexpected voices that echo John’s call to prepare the way of the Lord.
Now John’s call of preparation was simple yet profound: “Repent, for the forgiveness of sins.” Repentance, often misunderstood, is not about punishment or shame but turning back to God. The Greek word here is metanoia and it means a transformative change of heart and mind. It is a turning away from distortion of relationship and toward healthy relationships with God, Creation, neighbor, and self.
This metanoia is about recognizing the crooked paths in our lives and seeing how God can use them, straightening them, so that even our mistakes are steppingstones on the pathway towards God’s grace. This way through the wilderness then is about coming home to the One who waits with open arms, like the Father in the parable of the Prodigal Son(s) sometimes also known as the parable of the Loving Father, which we find elsewhere in Luke.
Truly this theme of returning home saturates Luke’s telling of the Good News, like in these words from the Song of Zechariah: “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” Advent encourages us to remember that God’s light breaks into even the darkest places, guiding us back to peace, hope, and restoration. Perhaps that is why it feels like such a fitting season for this time of year when we recall the light of Christ coming to us when the natural world in the Northern Hemisphere is so bleak.
The implication of these readings appears clear enough—go to the wilderness to listen for God’s voice which calls us to return home to God. But, if your life is anything like mine, you might struggle with the following question: Where is my wilderness? It does not necessarily mean a desert or a forest; it might be a quiet morning with scripture, a long drive with the sound off, or a moment of stillness after the kids are asleep. The wilderness can be any place where we step away from the noise of the world to hear God’s voice calling us home. Sure, it could be out in the woods, on top of a mountain, or upon a sandy shore; however, it could also be at your kitchen table, on your sofa, or back porch.
This Advent, may we each find our wilderness. May God grant us time and space for silence and reflection. May we utilize those sacred gifts to listen for the voice that calls us to prepare, repent, and return home. In a world full of distractions, this is no small task, but it is in these quiet places that God speaks most clearly and we can hear God’s voice most loudly.
As we prepare for Christ’s coming, let us remember the voices in the wilderness that call us to transformation. Let us heed their message of repentance, not with fear but with hope, knowing that God’s forgiveness and grace await us. And let us prepare the way of the Lord, not just in our hearts but in our actions, making the crooked paths straight and the rough places smooth.
And may we, like John the Baptist, be voices in the wilderness, calling others to the peace and salvation of God. May we like Zechariah, find our tongues loosed, proclaiming the tender compassion of our God who shines light into every darkness and guides us all home. Amen.
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