[Preached at Luther College Chapel - September 1, 2021]
19I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
20The wild animals will honor me,
the jackals and the ostriches;
for I give water in the wilderness,
rivers in the desert,
to give drink to my chosen people,
21the people whom I formed for myself
so that they might declare my praise.
17For I am about to create new heavens
and a new earth;
the former things shall not be remembered
or come to mind.
18But be glad and rejoice forever
in what I am creating;
for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy,
and its people as a delight.
——
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
20The wild animals will honor me,
the jackals and the ostriches;
for I give water in the wilderness,
rivers in the desert,
to give drink to my chosen people,
21the people whom I formed for myself
so that they might declare my praise.
17For I am about to create new heavens
and a new earth;
the former things shall not be remembered
or come to mind.
18But be glad and rejoice forever
in what I am creating;
for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy,
and its people as a delight.
——
Grace to you and peace this day, from God our creator, and our Lord Jesus Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Last week, a bunch of different friends were posting a quote about endings and new beginnings - one of those things that has its moment in the spotlight and then gets lost in the infuriating and unknowable black hole of the newsfeed algorithm.
I spent an embarrassing amount of time scrolling back - on multiple social media apps - to try to find it.
Just at the point where the frustration was getting the better of me, I had a realization flash through my head.
Maybe I wasn’t finding what I was looking for, but as I scrolled through posts and pictures from friends and family and colleagues, here’s what I was seeing:
First day of school pictures of excited, smiling, adorable children.
Friends sharing news of new jobs and new homes.
Remembrances of anniversaries.
Remembrances of loved ones gone before us.
Pictures of living rooms being repainted.
Parents sharing tearful selfies after having survived moving their first child (or last child) into their dorm.
Farewells to beloved pets.
Pictures of sunsets and sunrises.
Finish-line pictures of people running their first marathon.
I was looking for a quote about endings and beginnings, but here, in front of me, were the endings and the beginnings themselves.
Isaiah is bring God’s hopeful word to people who are navigating endings and beginnings themselves. They are people who have seen the destruction of their city and their temple, people who have had to create community in exile, people who are grieving losses, and people who need hope that new beginnings are just ahead.
The promise is strong and beautiful:
God is doing a new thing among them - it’s so close that the air is buzzing with expectation.
God will make a way in the wilderness.
God will provide.
God will bring them home.
God will make them new. God will make creation new. God will give them new hearts.
They are on the cusp of something.
They are looking ahead with hope.
I did find the quote I was looking for, as it turns out, after some fairly desperate Googling:
“Honor the space between no longer and not yet.”
Here at the start of this academic year, there is lots of “no longer” behind us, whether it is the “no longer” of this past summer vacation, or the “no longer” of the worst parts of pandemic, or the “no longer” of our high school careers, or the “no longer” of living at home, or the “no longer” of a major that you dropped to pursue other interests.
And as the year is now unfolding, there is also plenty of “new” and “not yet.” You are still discovering this place, and this community, and yourself. There is plenty of “becoming” that will continue to happen, not just here, but throughout your life. There are new patterns, new relationships, new rhythms, new questions, new doubts, new stirrings of your hearts.
And in this “space between,” the sacred gap between what has been and what will yet be, we live in hope and in faith.
“Faith,” as the verse from Hebrews goes, “means being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we cannot yet see.”
God has promised to make all things new. Day by day, whether through the change of seasons here out in nature, or through flickerings in our own hearts, or unexpected moments of renewal in our world, we catch glimpses of the new thing that God’s Spirit is doing. We will spend these first weeks in chapel continuing to explore how we can see, experience, and hope for the new things that God is doing.
As you navigate the endings and beginnings that come with the beginning of this year, may God fill your hearts with hope and anticipation for the future. May you know that God has been with you in the wilderness, and that God will continue to accompany you and guide you through the grief of what has been, and into the excitement of what will yet be.
Peace and hope to you in the journey.
Amen.