December 3, 2023 Isaiah 64:1-9 Series B Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Father, and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who loves you with his very life. Amen.
It’s that time of year, not just wondering if we should pray for snow this year, we might, but wondering what kind of gifts to get for those loved ones in your life. In our family, we like to handmade gifts. We love going to craft fairs and such things to see what creative people are able to accomplish, from fine art work, to bbq sauces. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but there is something remarkable about a handmade gift over something produced in a factory.
There is that craft show in Little Falls every year. We love to visit it when we can, and in particular we like to look at the pottery vessels. I don’t know, there is just something about taking first from the ground, clay, and making it useful. Adding pops of color and flairs to make something as plain as a coffee cup. Ashley is always on the lookout for that perfect blue mug.
And more than just Christmas gifts to be packed in brightly colored paper, no Ashley, you aren’t getting a blue mug, we are now in the Season of Advent. When I was in school learning about the history of the church seasons and why they are the way that they are, a phrase has always struck me about advent: muted joy. It’s like, yeah! We are excited, but we are holding back for something better.
And I think that describes us. Not just as a church, but as a people. It’s that we want to be excited, we want to have extravagant joy, but we feel like we need a miracle. So our joy is lackluster. And we find ourselves in a similar boat to the people from our old testament lesson today from Isaiah.
Isaiah is writing to a people who are waiting on a miracle. They are the Israelites, they are God’s people, but they aren’t the generation that saw God’s mighty hand at work. Yes, God did miracles through Isaiah, such as with King Hezekiah, but the people want God to act from heaven like he did in Egypt. They want to see the plagues on Egypt, the water to blood, the darkness that could be felt, the hail storm that burst into flames.
Or in the words of our text, “Oh that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains might quake at your presence— as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil—to make your name known to your adversaries, and that the nations might tremble at your presence! When you did awesome things that we did not look for, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence.”
Come down and see us like you did at Mt. Sinai, where the mountain burst into flames and there were earthquakes, because God was here. And gosh, don’t we long for that too? How many of us want God to act like he did of old? Why God, don’t you come down in fire like you did to Moses? Why don’t you show us something physical of your mighty power? Send us an Elijah to call down fire from heaven, send us a John the Baptist to call us to repentance in the wilderness. Send us a Moses and part the sea. Let us see the miracles, that we might believe.
Or in Isaiah’s words, “From of old no one has heard or perceived by the ear, no eye has seen a God besides you, who acts for those who wait for him”
True confession time. I have found it a challenge to go to some craft fairs, because, honestly, I can be a little judgey when it comes to crafts. Not all artisans have the same quality of work. I mean, you have to start somewhere, but not every artist is a Davinci, not every sculptor a Michaelangelo. That’s how it is with me too. I make no claim that the crafts I make are in the same ballpark as the artisans at the monastery at St. Joe, or my boat making skills are not anywhere near that of Noah. I get it. But quality of a handmade good does depend on the artisan’s skills and abilities.
Or as Isaiah says, “We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away. There is no one who calls upon your name, who rouses himself to take hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us, and have made us melt in the hand of our iniquities.”
I cannot mold myself to be a good enough person for God. In Genesis, we read that God created us, mankind, by taking dirt, clay, and molding it to be people. Like a skilled artisan, God made us. In the psalms we read that God knits us together. I have seen knitting, it’s a lot of work. And God made each of us.
But, there is a problem here. It’s not with God, it’s with me. The problem is that my sinfulness doesn’t want to be made by God. No, my sinfulness wants to do it myself. I want to mold myself. And when I do that, all I find is sin. All I find is a leaky cup filled, not with water, but with cracks and holes.
My righteous deeds are polluted, Isaiah says. Not my sins, I know those are bad, but the quote unquote good things I do, those are polluted too. Because, because, too often I do good things for myself. Because I want to curry favor with God. I want God to see my good deeds and reward me. Because I want to be able to say to God, “look how good of a person I am!” Which, when translated into non-pious words is, “God, I have earned my right to be with you.” And that’s bad. Even the good things I do, are tainted, I cannot fix my own broken vessel.
And that’s the point. I am not the potter. I am not the knitter. I am not the one who breathed life into me. God is, and God has made me in his image. He has given me value, bot because I made myself extra fancy or made myself into a super christian. No. I have value because of the potter.
Let me put it a different way. If I were to follow a Bob Ross painting tutorial and sell the painting what would it be worth? I could probably trade it and a couple dollars for a cup of coffee. How much is a Bob Ross painting, painted by Bob Ross himself worth? Lots of coffee.
You have value because you are made in God’s image. Because the Creator chose to create you. He could have created someone else, but he didn’t. He made you. And more than that, he sees the flaws that you brought on yourself, and he sent Jesus to make you again.
We, like the people in Isaiah, are waiting for a miracle, waiting for God to descend in fire and earthquakes and whatever. But in this season of advent we celebrate God descending. We are preparing for the great miracle. “Oh that you would rend the heavens and come down.” And God has. God has come down to us in someone better than Moses, Elijah, or Isaiah. God has comedown himself as Jesus Christ. God’s only Son. The creator stepped into the paitinig to remake us. The potter has come to remake the pots. Lot’s of metaphors.
When you were baptized, like Easton was this morning, God entered the heart, and started making it new. Making it more like his. God takes us and gives us faith, transforms us and forgives us. Each day he gives us new mercy. Each day he gives you forgiveness. We are in Advent, and we await the miracle of Christ's coming. Coming on Christmas, and his second coming on that last day.
You are God’s workmanship. The expert craftsman made you. He even made the people who don’t know him. You are a vessel of the potter. And that gives you value. Value that was worth more than the life of the Son of God, who died to redeem you. And one day the potter will return, and he will remake, not just our hearts, but all of our person. He will then bring us into his kingdom which he has expertly prepared for us. For all time.
I love handmade gifts. I also love telling people about them. I like to tell people where an interesting piece came from, who made it, what it means to me. I love telling the story of how something interesting came into my possession, like this box. It was a gift from an expert lathe worker. He lives in St. Cloud. He is nationally renowned. His wife is LCMS. He’s catholic.
Anyway. In the same way, love telling others about your maker. About the craftsman who took dust of the earth and gave it life. Of a God who not only did that, but then who redeemed, forgives, and who will make again. Tell others of where to look for the miracle, not on mountain tops, but in a manger, on a cross, leaving an empty tomb, and now in our hearts. Amen.
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