Make a straight path

Mark 1:1-8 The beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ, the Son of God. ² It is written in Isaiah the prophet: "I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way"-- ³ "a voice of one calling in the desert, 'Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.'" ⁴ And so John came, baptizing in the desert region and preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. ⁵ The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. ⁶ John wore clothing made of camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. ⁷ And this was his message: "After me will come one more powerful than I, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. ⁸ I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

“I’ll come to church once I get my life straightened out.” The response from a person whose life was going in the wrong direction. “I’m not happy being married and God wants me to be happy.” A reply to my insistence that a member’s divorce is unscriptural. “We’re not religious, but we’re spiritual.” The argument from a neighbor after an attempt at Christian counseling. “Shouldn’t the Bible change with the times?” The answer after trying to explain the Bible’s doctrine of the rules of men and women. Slam! The sound from countless doors slammed on me while door canvassing.

Maybe you’ve had similar responses when inviting a friend to church, or pointing out sin to a family member, or calling your child to repentance. “Don’t stir the pot.” “Live and let live.” “You go your way and I’ll go mine.” You’ve heard these things. Maybe you’ve even said them a time or two. We want to be left alone. Don’t bother me, I’m fine! Especially when it comes to religion … people get even a little more stern: “Don’t impose your religion on me!” Which these days for many means: don’t even bring it up for discussion; don’t say something that will offend me; don’t talk about sin; don’t do anything that might get people upset. Don’t go there. Stay superficial, so we can all just feel good about ourselves.

That’s how many feel about Christmas. It is a holiday of warm fuzzies – the lights, the greens, the tree, the music, the parties – maybe even a little mention about a baby, manger and angels. These things are supposed to help us “get into the spirit of Christmas” (whatever that means). But preparing for the birthday celebration of the Child who will bear the sin of the world requires more than tinsel and eggnog. It requires repentance.

In fact, the Church has something very helpful to prepare our hearts for Christmas. It’s called Advent.

Advent is a time when we hear readings, not about shepherds and angels, but about Christ’s glorious return and John the Baptizer’s calling us to repent. We sing hymns, not of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” but “Prepare the Royal Highway.”

And so today, as he does every second Sunday in Advent, John the Baptizer comes onto the scene. He is God’s divinely appointed “pot stirrer” and “road leveler.” He is here to prepare the way for the Lord. To flatten your mountain of sin and fill in your valley of guilt. To make your crooked life straight.

John will not leave you alone. He will not let you go your own way and remain in your sins. And he’s going to impose his religion on you, whether you like it or not. He’s going to be that voice in the wilderness – that voice that you try to ignore, but can’t. That voice that keeps speaking, keeps proclaiming, keeps calling you to repentance. He doesn’t have time to worry about his wardrobe (clothes with camel’s hair and a crude leather belt), or what he eats (locusts and wild honey), to make himself look respectable and attractive to you. There are more important things at hand.

And so John is here once again to answer our prayer. What prayer? The one we prayed earlier: “Stir up our hearts, O Lord, to prepare the way for your only Son.” (Prayer of the Day) John has come to stir up our hearts. To prepare the way. To straighten the crooked road of your heart. Because salvation is at stake. Your salvation.

Perhaps you didn’t know what you were praying earlier. Or maybe you weren’t paying attention. Either way, John is still here and we have to deal with him. He’s good at what he does – stirring up, straightening out and preaching repentance. Very good. Because he doesn’t stop with the easy sins, the obvious sins, the sins that everybody knows are sins, because that’s not stirring up the pot or straightening the road. That’s skimming the pot and filling the potholes. That kind of preaching only makes comfortable, confident sinners … and Pharisees. And what did the Pharisees do with John? They made a show of coming out to hear him. They ignored his teachings and eventually turned their backs on him.

John preached the Old Testament message of Isaiah: “In the desert prepare the way for the LORD; make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God. Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain (Isaiah 40:2-3).” Make straight because something is not straight, not right; something is twisted and confused and crooked in your life. It is your lack of love and abudance of anger, your lackluster faith and your apathetic worship. It is the boredom with God’s Word and the resistance to the changes that Word wants to make in your life. It is the easy silence in your lack of prayer and your failure to tell others of the Savior. It is the evil desires, the filthy language, and the over-indulgence in your eating and drinking. It is the sensible-sounding explanations and excuses for sins – “I had no choice;” “Everyone is doing it;” “I’m not hurting anyone;” I was busy with something else.”

And so we have taken the clear, straight path to God – His royal highway – and twisted and contorted it into a maze. But this is when we need to hear the rough voice of John calling us to repentance. He bulldozes his way into our hearts. He shows us the ugliness of our sins. He makes us comfortable and alert and agitated. For his is a voice that is very different than the voices we hear in our world today which tell us that we’re all O.K. and to accept who we are and that we all deserve a medal. But John shouts, “You’re not O.K. You are not living holy and godly lives before the coming of the Lord (2 Peter 3:8-14).” “You’re not as nice and respectable as you want others to think you are; or as you think you are.” And John makes no apologies. He doesn’t say, “Sorry to burst your bubble.” No, he says, “Thus saith the Lord!”

John prepared the way for the Lord. But he doesn’t just preach. He also points. He preaches the Law in all its severity so he can point to the Gospel in all its glory. For this was his message: “After me will come one more powerful than I, the thongs of whose sandals I am unworthy to untie.”

John was only the warm-up act. He was the Advent man. He was preparing the way. The way for whom? For God in sandals.

Think of that. John’s expression of Jesus’ might is so powerful that it often slips by without much notice. Jesus has sandals. He has feet. God has our hands, legs, eyes, ears and all the other things we humans have because Jesus is God incarnate – God in our flesh.

John is using this Advent time of preparation and repentance to point us to Christmas and beyond. All those sins that the bulldozer of John the Baptizer just laid bare. All those filthy, ugly, shameful sins – this Child has come to take them from us and put on His tender, innocent body. So that we might receive comfort from our God (Isaiah 40:1), God became uncomfortable as a little baby wrapped in rough cloth and laid in a feeding trough. So that we might be saved from the fires of Judgment Day, the Father’s only begotten Son received His Father’s wrath. The wood of the manger would be replaced by the angry mob crying out, “Crucify Him!” His mother’s milk replaced with vinegar. His swaddling clothes stripped away so that He hangs naked in shame. His life offered on the altar of the cross as His blood outpoured into the ground.

John gets us all stirred up this Advent season so we can truly see and appreciate what God has done to save us from  ourselves, in order so we may be found spotless, blameless and at peace with God on the Day of Judgment (2 Peter 3:14). For John’s fiery speech gives way to the tender voice of Jesus, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” “Because I live, you, too, will live.” The flames of our sin are doused by the waters of baptism. The punishment we deserve is trumped by grace. The cup of God’s wrath is replaced with the bread and cup of Christ’s mercy found in His body and blood. So that the way of the Lord may be straight. And the Lord comes straight to you – not as Judge, but as Savior. Not as Tyrant, but as Shepherd. Not as Accuser, but as Forgiver. Not to pin your sins on you, but to take them away by pinning them on Himself. That He may comfort, comfort His people.

But John isn’t finished with you yet. Now that your sins have been pinned to Jesus; now that your path is straight and the royal highway has been prepared … now live like it. Hearing John’s voice consistently calling you to repentance and seeing John’s finger constantly pointing you to Jesus: “You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God” (2 Peter 3:11-12). “Lift up your voice with a shout, lift it up, do not be afraid” (Isaiah 40:9). No longer living with hidden sin, but with sin forgiven.

Advertisers and the world have no need for Advent – except to sell trees, ornaments and decorations for Christmas. But we Christians need Advent. We need a time before Christmas to encounter the darkness, to slip slowly into winter, instead of immediately masking it with tinsel. We need a season of hunger and silence to make us eager for our coming festival, instead of “holiday” parties and concerts and all the other distractions that can rob Advent from us. For without Advent we stop being what we are: a people who are waiting. We need the Lord’s terrifying announcement of the end of time. We need the prophets’ consolations and threats. We learn who we are in the uneasy raving of John the Baptist and in the gentle strength of the Virgin Mary.

We also need Christmastime. We need a festival that runs beyond a single day, beyond a single week. We need time to tell about the singing of the angels, the wonder of the shepherds, the humble obedience of Joseph and Mary, about the embrace of Old Simeon, the faith of Old Anna, and the journey of the Magi.  

Of course, Advent cannot exist if we jump the gun on Christmas. And Christmastime cannot exist if we are already tired of it by December 25. These two seasons are a package deal: One demands the other. Only after the silence of Advent can the carols of Christmastime spring. Only after Advent’s darkness can a single star give such cheer. Only after Advent’s terror can an angel be heard, once again, telling us to fear not. Year after year, we so genuinely need these seasons as rehearsal for heaven.

This is what God wants. That’s why you are here today and every day of worship. That’s why Advent before Christmas. That’s why John the Baptizer every Advent season. For we and others must be made uncomfortable in our sin so that we may find comfort in our Savior. The wilderness, then the manger, then the star, then the Jordan, then the cross and the open tomb. First the Law, then the Gospel. First the forerunner then the Messiah. First repentance then forgiveness. Making a straight path … for the King of kings is near! Amen.

2^nd Sunday in Advent at Epiphany on December 4, 2011