Third Sunday of Advent, Morning Worship, December 14, 2025
Sermon: In Days to Come…Joy
Accompanying Scripture: Isaiah 35 : 1-10

In Days to Come…Joy

During my childhood, my family and I often went camping. The most
memorable was the weekend we spent in the Mojave Desert.
Those were the days when our automobiles had canvas water bags tied
to the radiator cover in case the engine overheated. While my father set
up camp, my brother and I would be sent out to search for firewood. I
was excited to spend some time wandering around and checking out all
the opportunities the desert had to offer.
My joy dissipated when my mother called out, “Watch out for
rattlesnakes!”
As I read this passage from Isaiah, I think about the Hebrews who escaped
slavery in Egypt and boldly crossed through the parted waters of the Red
Sea. Oh, the joy. They were free! Egypt couldn’t touch them. And they
celebrated!
Once they had rested from the festivities, they turned toward the land
that was promised to them: a land flowing with milk and honey. As they
pivoted their gaze from far-off Egypt to the Land of Promise, they were
met with…wilderness.
That isn’t the kind of joy they were looking for. Isaiah has several
descriptions of wilderness: dry land, desert, burning sand, thirsty ground,
and even the haunt of jackals. That’s not the place where we want to be.
When have you been in the wilderness? I expect you’ve experienced it a
few times; some of you are there now. It feels God-forsaken. It’s lonely.
The silence is deafening.
Wilderness is a form of time-out. Not because we’ve been naughty
children, but because time is needed to discern. For example, Jesus spent
forty days in the wilderness discerning his ministry. Maybe your
wilderness experience has been marked by grief. Grieving is a unique
time where God provides space and time to come to terms with your loss.
It can be a form of protection from the hurt of loss. Wilderness

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experiences can be marked by anger and a need to withdraw from the
world to assess the pain.
In fact, desert experiences are a gift in disguise. The Hebrews were
slaves, used to being told what to do and when to do it. They needed
time to become a free and independent people. God would form them
into a people especially chosen by God and set aside for God’s service.
Joy came to them, though. Water in an arid desert arrived when it was
most needed. Manna and quail for food. A joyous time to realize that
God didn’t dump them in this space, but God was with them and providing
for their needs.
Joy came as they made the Tabernacle with their own hands. They made
the worship implements with the melted-down precious metals from the
sacred cow. Joy abounded when they entered their new worship space!
Babies were born. Their clothing didn’t wear out. Community was
formed. All in the barren, unforgiving wilderness. And God provided for
their needs.
Isaiah identifies needs in this passage: weak hands, feeble knees, fearful
hearts, blind eyes, deaf ears, speechlessness, and the lame. The promise
is that God will gather them in and comfort them. Healing will take place.
We hold that promise today. We carry it with us this week, the Advent
week of Joy. It’s difficult to find sometimes, especially when you’re
grieving or holding onto anger or needing to step away from the world
for a while.
This week, while Hailey and I discussed this passage, we both wondered
about the crocus. We discovered that the crocus is a bulb. And it seems
to know when we need it the most. While the winter hangs on, trying to
push Spring down the road, the crocus suddenly bursts through the snow
to provide a beautiful bloom. And the colors are like a rainbow.
Imagine the joy of seeing a beautiful, tender flower through the melting,
dirty snow. Imagine the joy of realizing that Spring truly is just around the
corner.

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Imagine the joy of opening that special, unexpected gift.
That’s what God wants for us. God has wondrous things in mind for you.
The thing is, we have to open our eyes to see them. The blooming crocus
won’t tap you on the shoulder; you have to be present to see it.
And sometimes, eyes wide open, we still miss it. Primarily while we reside
in the wilderness. God accomplished miracles with the Hebrews in the
desert. They lacked the capacity to understand everything they
experienced.
So do we. And that’s okay. God is still in the miracle business. And when
we leave the wilderness, we’ll someday look back and realize all the
wondrous things that occurred while our life was on hold.
I challenge you to look for joy this week. Those surprising moments
when someone touches your soul; that unique gift you didn’t expect; a
conversation that changes how you look at the world. It’s there for the
taking.
This week, keep awake for the “crocus moments” and give God your
heartfelt, joy-filled gratitude.
All glory and honor be to God.
Amen.