Walking in the Light of the Coming King (Isa 2.1-5)

Introduction

Advent Season

Happy New Years! No, I’m not off by a month and a half. Last Sunday we celebrated “Christ the King” on the church calendar, the final week of the liturgical year. Today begins the church’s new year. Welcome to the first Sunday of Advent!

You may have noticed several changes around the building for Advent season. There’s a lot more purple - that reminds that we’re waiting for Christ, our King. There are more candles too; we light them incrementally (one more each week) as we train our hearts to long for Jesus, the Light of the World. Advent is a time of longing, of expectation, of waiting for God’s light to break into our dark world. In fact, here in the northern hemisphere, we celebrate the light of Advent at the very time where days are shortest and darkness seems to taking over. Our Advent practices operate at three levels. At the level of our present experience, we’re counting down the days till Christmas. That countdown also operates on a second level (the past), teaching us patience as we enter the expectations of God’s people awaiting their Deliverer. And by re-enacting these expectations every year, we train our hearts to expect Jesus to return. That’s the third level of Advent expectation: a future focus. We aren’t merely embodying the longings felt by God’s people millennia ago; we aren’t just yearning for the upcoming holiday celebration; we’re actively longing for the return of our King! We practice “longing” by first acknowledging that the world is not what it’s meant to be, then by confessing that we can’t fix it (not us, not politicians, not billionaires), and finally by focusing our vision on our true hope. During Advent, we actively get better at anticipating the return of the King.

Advent Hope in Isaiah

As we practice patience for our king’s return, as we train ourselves in longing for the restoration his reign will bring, we’re going to spend time in Isaiah’s prophecies this year: Isa 2, 11, 35, and 7. Isaiah’s prophecies provide us with an engaging and helpful foundation for our hope.

Let’s consider briefly Isaiah’s historical background. He preached these messages to Judah (the southern kingdom). Israel (the northern kingdom) already formed a military alliance with Assyria to try to stave off an impending Babylonian invasion; Israel was pressuring Judah to join that alliance as well. Judah’s king Ahaz was eager to consider that alliance. In this situation, Isaiah’s overarching message that Judah should trust God alone, not human political/military alliances. It’s not much of a stretch at all for us to find similarities, even to empathize with Ahaz and the people of Judah.

We too live in a world often driven by fear and stricken by war, a world where competing geopolitical forces or political factions vie for our allegiance. Have you felt bombarded by ever-escalating warnings of dangerous political takeovers? That current of fear pulls us Christians, tempting us to put our trust in human institutions and alliances, not in God. In each Isaiah advent sermons, we’ll see varied facets of one big truth: no matter what fresh danger threatens us, our only hope is Jesus, our King.

The Kingdom of the Prince of Peace

Let’s turn now to the specifics of today’s text.

1 The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.
2 In days to come
the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains
and shall be raised above the hills;
all the nations shall stream to it.
3 Many peoples shall come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob,
that he may teach us his ways
and that we may walk in his paths.”
For out of Zion shall go forth instruction
and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
4 He shall judge between the nations
and shall arbitrate for many peoples;
they shall beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation;
neither shall they learn war any more.
5 O house of Jacob,
come, let us walk
in the light of the Lord!
~ Isa 2.1-5

As we look at the kingdom of the Prince of Peace today, we’re going to look at it on three levels: the prophecy of Isaiah to Judah, the advent of Jesus, and Jesus’ ultimate return. We’ll connect the threads through all sections of this tapestry, displaying the reign of Jesus over the one kingdom of God, longed for by all God’s people in all places and times.

Isaiah’s Prophecy

First, let’s consider what kind of kingdom Isaiah wants us to expect.

An Exalted Kingdom

God’s kingdom will be “established as the highest of the mountains” (v2). Given the focus on “Yahweh’s house,” this kingdom far exceeds mere human rule. This exalted kingdom isn’t about a nation comprised of a single ethnic group; it belongs to the Lord!

Place yourself in Isaiah’s day, when every nation or tribe had its own deity and every battle was framed as a contest of gods. We modern folk ought not look down condescendingly on the ancient people who lived in a world of competing deities. We’re no better, just a touch fancier and more abstract. While we may have “progressed” beyond gods like Ba’al and Ashteroth, Marduk and Nabu, Ra and Osiris, we find ourselves surrounded by competing deities like money, fame, prestige, pleasure, power, entertainment, escape, consumption, and many more. Isaiah’s word strikes home in our world much like it did nearly 3 millennia ago in Judah: God’s kingdom is established on the highest mountain. None of the competing claims of all our modern gods matter; only God sits on the highest mountain.

An Irresistible Kingdom

An unusual thing happens when Yahweh’s lofty kingdom is established: “all the nations … stream to it” (v2). Now, normally streams flow downhill; the nations flow up to the highest mountain, however. The draw of this kingdom is so strong, it feels like it reverses the rules of gravity and fluid dynamics! This stream of all nations flowing uphill comes with an invitation spoken by the people of all nations. “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths” (v3). God’s irresistible kingdom is not merely an phenomenon to observe, but a walk, a pilgrimage for us to participate in. It’s a life-changing journey: flowing uphill to God’s kingdom is “[being taught] his ways and … walk[ing] in his paths.” This journey into the heart of God’s kingdom inevitably changes who we are.

I find comfort in this mystery of divine pull and human participation. You may have spent periods of your Christian life striving after growth or change, struggling with guilt at not being good enough. We do actively participate in the process (we’re not passive while a transformation happens to us), but we don’t have to labor under guilt and stress and anxiety about changing ourselves. The transformation is God’s work in us and “the one who began a good work in you will continue to complete it until the day of Jesus Christ” (Php 1.6). We trim the sails, but the wind that actually moves our boat is God’s power.

An Upside-Down Kingdom

God’s kingdom turns human kingdom expectations upside-down. Mortal kings inevitably protect themselves with military might. Deut 17.16 warns potential kings about the temptation to “acquire many horses;” 1Ki 10.26 tells us that even Israel’s wisest king Solomon succumbed to it.

God’s kingdom, by contrast, is built for peace, not for violent victories (4).

The blades that once split human flesh and separated life from body have become tools that split the soil and allow new life and health.

In vs 5, the people of Judah are called to live in the reality of that kingdom: “Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!” Isaiah’s subversion of violent human kingdoms also comes with a call to action. This upheaval, this flipping the script on human might, violence, and hostility is the walk that we’re called to. This reversal of violent power is the light that the Lord that shines into the darkness of human rule and reign.

Isaiah’s earlier descriptions (exalted kingdom, irresistible kingdom) both serve to elevate this final and most important description:

Isaiah has twisted the plot beautifully to give us a vision of the kingdom of the Prince of Peace that overshadows our past experiences and corrects our default expectations for human kingdoms.

The Arrival of the Prince of Peace

As we move from Isaiah to Jesus, let’s use the “light” imagery of Advent season to help connect the dots. Isaiah has called us to “walk in the light of the Lord.” In Jn 8.12, Jesus himself claims “I am the light of the world.” As we celebrate Advent and re-enact the drama of waiting on the light of the Lord, candles help us move from ancient expectation to the arrival of Jesus, the light of the world.

In continuity with Isaiah 2, we see that the upside-down nature of God’s kingdom is central to the kingdom Jesus inaugurated. In Mt 20.25-28, Jesus directly addresses the violent authority wielded by human kingdoms:

“You know that the rulers of the gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you, but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave, just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life a ransom for many.”

As we learned last week in Lisa’s sermon on Lk 23, Jesus the king didn’t match people’s expectations about his power, privilege, or place. To the contrary, by giving his life, he visibly proved to the greatest degree possible that his kingdom isn’t about self-preservation, military might, or escalating violence. Jesus, our Prince of Peace, came humbly to inaugurate a kingdom where the meek are blessed, where the last are first, where the greatest behave like slaves, and where the king willing gives his life for his subjects. (Since it’s Advent season, I deeply want to dig into Mary’s Magnificat in Lk 1 now, but for the sake of time, let me just ask you to read that song at home this week and see how Mary connects Jesus’ kingdom to reversals of human power.)

I’d like us to pause and consider something difficult for a moment now. Friends, is it possible for us to walk with Jesus the light of the world, while still maintaining our “normal,” uncritical commitments to earthly structures of power? Can we fully swear allegiance to both the Prince of Peace and, at the same time, to governments built on power, war, and violence? Can we serve two masters? I recognize this creates some difficult tensions to navigate. But both Jesus and Isaiah are calling us to think hard thoughts, weigh hard priorities, challenge hard loyalties, and at times, speak hard words to power. Was it easy for Isaiah to challenge military might in a time when Judah was being pinched between competing military superpowers? Did Jesus’ words about “the rulers of the Gentiles” endear him to Roman authorities? The kingdom of the Prince of Peace is beautiful, so much so that it will eventually draw all nations into its light. But we live in a time of tension, caught in the current of normal human rule with all its harmful defaults, but striving to defy that flow and move upstream to the kingdom of the Prince of Peace. We are called to be people who quite literally “turn the tide.”

The Return of the King Prince of Peace

Let’s make our final transition with the help of “light” once again. Isaiah calls to the kingdom of peace where we walk in the Lord’s light; Jesus, the Light of the World, inaugurated at his arrival two millennia ago. As we turn to Revelation 21, we’re captured by John’s vision of unique light: “the city [that] has no need of sun or moon…, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb” (Rev 21.23).

In Rev 21, we’ll find echoes of all three of Isaiah’s descriptions. In Rev 21.10, John is “on a great, high mountain” watching New Jerusalem, the exalted kingdom, descend. In Rev 21.24, “the nations will walk by [the] light” of the irresistible kingdom.

We also find the upside-down peace of God’s kingdom here. In Rev 21.3-4, a voice cries out:

“See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them and be their God
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.”

This is the endgame of the tangible reversals we found in Isa 2. Only in a kingdom where Jesus has repurposed every weapon of war, where he has redeemed every tool of violence and bloodshed — only there can tears be wiped away forever, only there can mourning and crying and pain be no more. Gone forever are all our human attempts at short-lived national glory, at power and subjugation, and at violent victory. In their place, we find tools of of new life, provision, contented labor, and godly peace.

This is the vision that Isaiah cast, that Jesus embodies, and that John has caught. In the light of the Lord, in Light of the world, and in the light of the Lamb, we find the darkness of the world pierced, its shadows fleeing away to give us a glimpse of one kingdom, one beauty, one perfection: the peaceful reign of Jesus himself. As we practice patience during this Advent, as we incrementally light candles at church and at home, may we walk in his light.

May the light of the Lord show us peace amidst our problems, may the Light of the world reveal hope where we’ve experienced hostility, may the light of the Lamb grant us comfort in the face of chaos.