Isaiah is the rare prophet whose message radiates hope and life. When we hear these ancient promises, we can hear the joy they hold – a feeling that not only is everything going to be okay, it’s going to be magical. Glorious. Beyond our wildest dreams.

These promises – this poetry – Isaiah’s optimistic image of the people redeemed, and the prosperous, plentiful kingdom of God have long been a source of inspiration for us. The joy of a shared expectation is a good and useful thing. But the promise has never yet been brought to life. There has never been a government ruled by these righteous principles. The images of sudden, bountiful growth and utter peacefulness have always been a distant dream. But these words continue to shape our lives and our faith.

It is natural to wonder why.
Why, after all this time – after so much examination, and disappointment – why do we still hang on to these ideas? Why do we still appeal to these images? Why do we allow this expectation to sustain us?

Well, that kind of behaviour seems to be part of human nature. Think for a minute about your Christmas plans.

Many of us are working wildly towards an event that was shaped in our minds a long time ago. We are chasing down menu items and imagining rooms full of holiday cheer – the air full of laughter and conversation. The ‘perfect’ Christmas.

There are plenty of stories – all just stories – of how this can go. Hallmark movies in miniature. Every potential disaster is saved at the last moment by a surprising act of grace, or love. The holiday stress level is only manageable because of the image we carry (and the hope that resides in that image) of everything working out ‘just so.’ But I’m here to remind you that ‘the image’ is one thing, the ‘perfect Christmas’ is something else altogether.

Isaiah is offering a glimpse of something that we will never see. But he is not leaving us stranded in misery. The image of the kingdom so clearly stated gives us a framework for living in the midst of the imperfections of life. The complicated mess of human interactions have always got in the way of God’s ‘perfect’ plan. Even so, we can work for something better – something fulfilling – something generous and joyful.

When Lea and I were first married, we worked out a Christmas schedule that was meant to make everyone happy. Her family in Port Perry – mine in Petrolia. 4 1/2 hours (on a good day) between families meant alternating Christmas celebrations year after year. Good weather, bad weather before kids and with kids – the parade of Christmas cheer went up and down the 401 looking for the magic. Sometimes it was easier to find than others.

And then I began my work with the church. Things were going to have to change. What about the Christmas traditions? What about the family connection? What about the image of peace, love, and joy that sustained us through many an ugly December drive? Let me share a wonderful secret. Even though everything changed (no more drives through Toronto on Christmas Eve) Nothing changed.

We made new traditions – and then we changed them. We found joy in homemade pizza for Christmas dinner, and smaller, rowdier gatherings – first with just the four of us, then with neighbours.

The template for Christmas is still the same, but we fill it in differently every year. So it is with these ancient, divine promises.

John the Baptist comes and shakes things up – his words have power, and he evokes our old favourite – Isaiah – but he lands in jail. John’s followers are confused – they thought that this was finally it. Jesus reminds them that the template is the same, but for John and his followers, it is being filled out differently.

A prophet, but more than a prophet. A leading light in God’s plan, but insignificant in the grand scheme of things. The perfection that we long for is not to be found in the literal promises. Instead, we will see the shape of that kingdom dressed in different clothes and calling for real change.

Because we have been trained to look for perfection, we just might miss the reality of God’s work in our midst – as John’s followers did – but those images hold an expectation of joy for us, and joy is something we do recognize.

The joy we find at this time of year is built on old stories and great expectations. The promises of Jesus often seem just as distant and hard to grasp as did the words of Isaiah. But Jesus points us to a pattern of living and loving that is rooted in joy, and it is our response that helps bring those promises to life in just the right way for our own time.