Thursday, December 15, 2022

The Holy Highway

Scripture Lessons: Psalm 146: 5-10 and Isaiah 35: 1-10 Sermon Title: The Holy Highway Preached on December 11, 2022 I titled this sermon “The Holy Highway,” and when I came up with this title, I wasn’t thinking of 285. You might call that the unholy highway, or the parking lot that surrounds the city of Atlanta. 285, 75, 85, Powder Springs, Whitlock, and even Church Street can be wastelands of frustrated people trying to get somewhere fast, yet often not moving at all. That’s why traffic is frustrating. When people are stuck in traffic, they have some place to get to and can’t get there, but the worse thing is people who have given up on getting there. We leave work to get home. In between is traffic, which is frustrating, but the worse thing is having a home you’re in no hurry to get to. In the same way, we graduate to get to a career. Maybe in between is a dead-end job and a stint with mom and dad, which can be frustrating, yet people get stuck in those in-between places. Some even give up on getting where they set off for. Shawshank Redemption is a movie about that. There’s a character named Red who became the man who can get things like posters and cigarettes from the outside world into the prison, and he takes pride in his status while giving up on parole. Another, who raises an orphaned crow, is released after 40 years of living behind bars. Once he’s out, he fantasizes about committing a crime so that he can get arrested and go back to the prison, which has become a place where he feels safe. Because the main character never stops working for freedom, unlike them, he never completely settles in. He keeps his hopes up, which can kill you to watch because his hopes are dashed again and again. His closest friend, Red, encourages him to give up on trying and to accept that his life isn’t going to get any better because he’s stuck in prison, but what happens to people who give up on trying to get out? There is something worse than traffic. When people are stuck in traffic, they are frustrated because they have some place to get to. The worse thing is when we give up on getting there, which is an easy thing to do. It happens to all of us. Every couple fights. The marriage counselors tell us not to let an argument go until the next day. Don’t go to sleep during an argument. Work it out right then. Why? You can hit pause on an argument and leave it unresolved, neither here nor there. Neither here nor there is not a fight or a resolution. It’s just quiet awkwardness. Some people can’t stand that kind of ambiguity. They want to know where things stand. One such woman, who felt her long-term boyfriend was taking too long to pop the question, finally said, “Either do something or get off the pot.” That wasn’t very romantic, but it was brave. Others who find themselves in an in-between place just make the best of it, so I have a memory of a traffic jam on the connector where a man got out of his car, took a charcoal grill out of his trunk, and started cooking hamburgers. If you’re stuck somewhere, why not make the best of it? Why not do as the prophet Jeremiah said: “seek the welfare of whatever city” we find ourselves in? We weren’t meant to do that forever, of course, because we are destined for a homeland. We were not created to spend our days in exile. We can’t put down roots in the middle of mediocre, neither good nor bad. We are destined for joy. We were created for more. We have a reason to hope so don’t stop moving. Don’t stop looking. Don’t stop trying. Don’t stop caring. Don’t stop hoping for better until you’ve made it to better, for sooner or later, the barriers are going to come down. When they do, you need to be ready to go. That’s the promise of Scripture. The barriers that keep us frustrated are coming down. You remember how John the Baptist said it: Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low. The crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth. The barriers we hit on the way to something better will be knocked down. One day, the disappointments that have sapped our hope will evaporate. Soon and very soon, the desert waste you’re stuck in will blossom and bloom to become the Holy Highway to the place you were always meant to be. That’s the message of our second Scripture lesson from the book of Isaiah. Like so much of the Bible, the prophet points us back to the desert, which, in Scripture, is the main in-between place where people got stuck. The Israelites wandered in it for 40 years after leaving slavery in Egypt. Yet, they never stopped calling themselves Israelites. There are people who live their entire lives in deserts. We call them Bedouins or nomads. Surely 40 years wandering in the desert would have qualified them as nomads. I know you must live in Marietta for more than that to consider yourself a real Marietta resident, but imagine the desert isn’t like that. 40 years in the desert is enough time to consider yourself a resident. A nomad. A Bedouin. Not an Israelite. Israelite refers to a place on the other side. Israelite refers to Israel, and so from Scripture we know that they never got so used to the desert that they forgot about the Promised Land. Don’t you forget about the Promised Land. Maybe you say, “I haven’t,” or “How could I?” If a man will pull out a charcoal grill after an hour of traffic to start making burgers, we will all get used to heartbreak and give up on love. We will all get used to isolation and give up on community. We will all get used to wasting time and will give up on living with purpose. Therefore, we must not get used to the pain or start working to manage our expectations. We can’t settle for that in-between any more than we can take up residency in a traffic jam. Soon and very soon, the traffic jam will become the Holy Highway. That’s the promise. No more roadblocks. No more red tape. The desert shall rejoice and blossom. The burning sand shall become a pool. The redeemed shall walk there, and everlasting joy will be upon their heads as they walk to Zion. This is the Holy Highway. The Peach Pass to joy. That’s what’s coming, so don’t settle in if you’re not where you want to be. My dad is getting closer and closer to retirement. He’s spending a lot of time playing pickle ball, so last week our girls bought their grandfather a coffee mug that says, “contains the tears of my pickle ball opponents.” That’s the perfect gift, but my father was not born to play pickle ball. My father was born for joy. You were born for joy. The Son of God who bridges heaven and earth will be born in a manger, and he will lead us by the hand down the Holy Highway from where we are now to where we long to be. That’s the promise, and it’s the promise whether we are on the way from work to home, graduation to living our life’s purpose, from isolation to community, or from life to death. Back in Tennessee, I went to visit a woman named Mrs. Cotham. Mrs. Cotham was in hospice. I went to visit her and asked her if she was afraid. “I’m not afraid of death,” she said. “It’s what happens in between now and then that scares me.” The in between is scary. Don’t settle in, though, and don’t be afraid. This Advent, may our prayer be like that of the great Episcopal priest Thomas Merton, who was bold to pray: My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. [Yet I do know this,] you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost in the shadow of death. I will not fear for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. “Do not fear, for I am with you,” says the Lord, walking beside you on the Holy Highway from where you are now to joy. Halleluiah. Amen.

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