Fading Flowers, Crumpled Wrapping Paper, and the Faithfulness of God

Isaiah 40:1-11
Mark 1:1-8

All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.

The beginning and ending of our passage from the prophet Isaiah are well known and beloved
passages of scripture. We tend to jump from the promise of comfort for God’s people and the promise that John the Baptist will prepare the way for Jesus, making straight a highway for God in the flesh, to the command to Isaiah to get himself up to a high mountain to proclaim God’s coming to God’s people. But we skip that middle bit, the bit about fading flowers and withering grass, since it’s the only part of this chapter that Handel didn’t include in his “Messiah.” On the surface, it’s an interruption, a bit of dreariness in the midst of a chapter filled with good news.

But to the people of Israel, 2 this was good news. Isaiah 40 begins the portion of this book of scripture known as “Second Isaiah.” The first thirty-nine chapters tell Israel why they have gone into exile, but this chapter marks the beginning of a declaration that the exile is drawing to a close. All people are grass, Second Isaiah says, and what he means is, “Your captors are grass, too.”  This seeming non-sequitur about the transitoriness of life is the word of comfort Second Isaiah is anointed to proclaim: Babylon the Great will fall, withering like grass, but God’s promises will endure.

Unlike the children of Israel, we’re not living in exile in a strange land. But I need to hear these words today. This can be such a stressful time of year, can’t it? There’s so much to do: gifts to buy, trees to decorate, cookies to bake, gifts to wrap, parties to attend, parties to host. I know that in Advent, the church invites me into a season of quiet waiting and simple preparation, but it can be hard for me to hear the still, small voice of God right now. It’s drowned out by Christmas carols on the radio and commercials on TV.

And those commercials. Have you noticed how loaded they can be? If you love your family, you will make them a perfect Christmas dinner. If you love your family, you will buy them this or that. If you love your family, you will drop everything to bake cookies.That’s before we even get to people like Kirk Cameron, who are shouting to everyone who will listen that the only way to “save” Christmas is for all of us, but especially mothers, to be cheerful and joyful all the time. And in the midst attempting to be perfectly spiritual and prayerful, like I think God wants me to be, I find my thoughts wandering and my mind worrying, “Will they like the presents I bought? Does the tree look perfect? Are all the corners of the wrapping paper crisp and perfect?”

At moments like this, I need to hear Isaiah’s words: The grass withers, the flowers fade, the wrapping paper will end up in the trash, and the tree on the curb. The prophet Isaiah’s words are a call to us to remain focused on what really matters: our trust in God’s promises to us, because God is faithful and will not disappoint. God will be faithful, even if I burn the ham. God will the faithful, even if the presents are a bust. God will be faithful, even if I do not meet my unrealistic expectations about how perfectly spiritual I am “supposed” to be during Advent.

This is the same message we hear from John the Baptist: The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me. In art, John is always depicted pointing away from himself, pointing toward Christ. John is another reminder that this season is not about us: it is about the faithfulness of God, revealed in Jesus Christ, the eternal, enduring Word of God, spoken to us as a promise of God’s love.

There’s a wonderful bit of spiritual wisdom that comes from Alcoholics Anonymous and other Twelve-Step Groups: “Stop shoulding all over yourself.” I repeat that to myself a lot, especially at this time of year. “Stop shoulding all over yourself.”

This is the message of the prophets that our collect bids us to heed: It is not about us. It was never about us, because we are like grass that fades. This is good news, even if it doesn’t immediately sound like it. This is good news, because it frees us from the terrible burden of trying to save ourselves, trying to be good enough.

This Advent, when there are so many clamoring voices telling you that it is all about you, that it all depends upon you, remember the words of the prophets. Stop shoulding all over yourself. It isn’t up to you to save Christmas. It isn’t up to me to save Christmas. Rest in the assurance of God’s love, revealed to us in Jesus,  revealed to us in water,  revealed to us in bread and wine.

Amen.