Sermon for February 24, 2019 
But it has been forty years. Forty. Most of the Israelites alive now barely remember Israel. Babylon is what they've known. Exile has become their home. After seeing their beloved city destroyed; families torn apart; houses demolished; their country lost, it was not surprising that members of the prophet's audience were not so sure anymore whether they still believed in the God of their ancestors. And yet here comes the prophet telling them to uproot everything and return to the land that God has given them.
Leave. Leave their homes. Leave the lives they've built and return to a place that many know only from stories.
Small wonder they don't respond with great joy.
Earlier Isaiah sought to comfort them with the message that their servitude was over (Isa 40:1-11). But people who have suffered badly do not embrace hope easily The Israelites had lived as exiles for an entire generation. All they knew was the exclusion and oppression. They had begun completely new lives in their exile. God's gift of grace is one that is so alien to these people that they have trouble accepting or understanding it
Now admittedly we are unlikely to find out what it would be like to have a conquering nation take us from our homes and move us into another land. We are unlikely to know what it is like to see our culture destroyed. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have times of exile in our own lives. Times when the lives we’ve spent years building come crashing down around us. We all have those moments, don’t we? Times with the tests came back positive. Or there just wasn't a job available. Or the day when you realize no matter how much struggle and effort you put in, this relationship will never work. We all have these exilic periods of loneliness and heartache and not fitting into the place we find ourselves in.
And when we first find ourselves in these exiles, we struggle and fight and desperately try to turn to normal. We strive to keep going. We assure people that it is still okay. That everything is fine and yes it is hard, but we’re going to bounce back But as the days turn into weeks, and things don’t improve, it gets harder to imagine bouncing back. It gets harder to imagine life not being a mess. And, eventually, I think we get used to the exile. We get used to the troubles and the hardships and we have trouble imagining anything else.
Sometimes, when things get bad enough, we settle in. We don't expect things to get better. And when someone offers us another option, we can't imagine taking it.. When we've lived in exile, we get used to it. We all adapt to the circumstances we find ourselves in. We adjust. Exile became what they knew and this promise of greatness was something that they had trouble hearing.
But there is something else. Isaiah calls again to the people today: "Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David." You don’t have to stay in exile! There is another way! God comes to us even in the darkest times and offers us a way out. Offers us feasting, even in our exile. This too shall pass, even in the darkest moments.
And so often, when we find ourselves in the exile moments in our lives, we cannot see another way, another option.
What do you mean that things will get better? What do you mean things will get good again? No God. Life can't be whole now that she’s gone. Things won't improve now that we've lost everything. This is how life is now. I have to accept it.
No, God says. You don't. Come back to Israel. Come back to the feast. I'm offering you joy and welcome. Your exile can be over. Come home.
The language here is just so rich. "For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands." More than just a call to come home, God invites us into celebration and joy.
It is a promise of a God that is with God's people always – even in exile; even though they may sometimes feel very much alone in the foreign land in which they were forced to dwell.
Isaiah did not have an easy task to speak a word of hope when everything around him seemed hopeless. However, he succeeds in proclaiming a word that is counter to the words of the world; a word that stands over against the policies of the empire whose intent is to kill and destroy; a word that is able to imagine a world where everything is possible, where all of creation is mended and restored, where the exiles can go home and live in peace.
After times of deep suffering, life does eventually get better. If we let ourselves see life again, if we realize there still is a welcoming feast at God's table, things will get better.
But what about those other times? I'm talking about those times when the exile we find ourselves in is one of our own making. What about when calamity strikes and it's our fault, because of our own sin? When we're the ones who had screwed up in the first place. When it was our sins that put up the separation. What then? Does God abandon us? Does he wait for us to get out of it and "cleaned up" before he will help?
We exile ourselves when we lie and keep the lies going. When we harden our hearts to those seeking forgiveness. No we say. No what you did is unforgivable. I won't come back. I won't listen. Or I can quit any time I'd like... I just don't want to yet. I like it over here in exile. There are times when we build our own walls between us and God. When we turn our backs and stick our fingers in our ears and refuse to listen. Sometimes our troubles are entirely our own fault and there is no one else to blame.
And yet still God calls us.
That's the thing about this passage in Isaiah today. "Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near;" All we have to do is turn and accept this call that God is offering us. That's it. Whether the exiles we find ourselves in are brought on by unfortunate circumstances or ones we made ourselves, God is still calling to us. Come God says. Come and eat. Come and drink. Come join me at the table.
One of my favorite theologians Frederick Buechner sums this invitation up the best. "The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It's for you I created the universe. I love you. There's only one catch. Like any other gift, the gift of grace can be yours only if you'll reach out and take it. Maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too."
That is the only catch to God’s offer of overwhelming grace in the text this morning. We have to take it. We have to respond. It sounds simple but we often have trouble with it. As Isaiah says "Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?" We focus on things that won’t quench our thirst for God. We cling to the trappings of our exile, when God invites us home. So as we begin to look towards Lent, take a minute to consider where the exiles of your lives are. And look around to see if God is calling you home.
The offer is always open. We just have to believe that there is something better than the exiles we find ourselves in. And embrace the hope that God offers.
