First Wednesday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Isaiah 1:24-31
24 Therefore the Lord, the Lord Almighty, the Mighty One of Israel, declares: “Ah! I will vent my wrath on my foes and avenge myself on my enemies. 25 I will turn my hand against you; I will thoroughly purge away your dross and remove all your impurities. 26 I will restore your leaders as in days of old, your rulers as at the beginning. Afterward you will be called the City of Righteousness, the Faithful City.” 27 Zion will be delivered with justice, her penitent ones with righteousness. 28 But rebels and sinners will both be broken, and those who forsake the Lord will perish. 29 “You will be ashamed because of the sacred oaks in which you have delighted; you will be disgraced because of the gardens that you have chosen. 30 You will be like an oak with fading leaves, like a garden without water. 31 The mighty man will become tinder and his work a spark; both will burn together, with no one to quench the fire.”
Psalm 90
A prayer of Moses the man of God.1 Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. 2 Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the whole world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. 3 You turn people back to dust, saying, “Return to dust, you mortals.” 4 A thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by, or like a watch in the night. 5 Yet you sweep people away in the sleep of death— they are like the new grass of the morning: 6 In the morning it springs up new, but by evening it is dry and withered. 7 We are consumed by your anger and terrified by your indignation. 8 You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence. 9 All our days pass away under your wrath; we finish our years with a moan. 10 Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away. 11 If only we knew the power of your anger! Your wrath is as great as the fear that is your due. 12 Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. 13 Relent, Lord! How long will it be? Have compassion on your servants. 14 Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. 15 Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we have seen trouble. 16 May your deeds be shown to your servants, your splendor to their children. 17 May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us— yes, establish the work of our hands.
Luke 11:29-32
29 As the crowds increased, Jesus said, “This is a wicked generation. It asks for a sign, but none will be given it except the sign of Jonah. 30 For as Jonah was a sign to the Ninevites, so also will the Son of Man be to this generation. 31 The Queen of the South will rise at the judgment with the people of this generation and condemn them, for she came from the ends of the earth to listen to Solomon’s wisdom; and now something greater than Solomon is here. 32 The men of Nineveh will stand up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, for they repented at the preaching of Jonah; and now something greater than Jonah is here.
NIV
Invited Into Tension
by Josh Wallace
Josh Wallace is a backyard church planter and educator in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, in Treaty 6 Territory. He also serves as Church Engagement Minister for Mennonite Church Saskatchewan.
“An evil generation demands a sign,” Jesus says.
I’m always looking for signs. A running transcript of my prayers might read something like this:
God, please show me what to do.
God, should I speak up? Should I stay quiet?
Is it time to start something new? Is it time to call it quits? To press pause?
Should I give that person a call, God? A text maybe? Or let them have some space?
Is now the time? Or, God, are you saying to wait?
God, please just show me what to do.
The past couple years have only amplified my felt need for a direct word from the Lord. Or, perhaps, lots of words—moment-by-moment direction and validation of my actions.
I’ve been caught in the ideological crosscurrents of pandemic responses. I’ve felt the crush of powerless responsibility as ICUs filled up while friends kept sharing and resharing misinformation—memes and infographics cooked up (I’m confident) in the heart of hell. I’ve watched the world burn up—a summer of smoke and death here at home, of floods and drought-induced food scarcity and violence further away. Still, I seem able only to scroll this news on my phone; maybe I offer up a prayer or sign a petition along the way. And then the kids! Children abused, buried, forgotten, now uncovered face me with my church’s complicity in a settler colonial genocide plotted and executed in the name of my faith. I hear these stories, and I’m brought up short, speechless, standing gaping and silent. I don’t know what to do—not even what to pray.
O God, is there a path to healing, to justice, to hope? Please, if there is, show us the way. Send us a sign.
Jesus’ harsh words about sign-seeking tumble out of a conflict that begins earlier in Luke chapter 11. Jesus was chasing out evil, a demon that stole away people’s ability to speak up for themselves. Some of the folks in the community are wonderstruck as he proclaims release to the captives and lets the oppressed go free (cf. Luke 4:18). Others rile against how he’s overturning a life they’d gotten used to. They accuse him of driving out evil only to make room for worse trouble—from the frying pan into the proverbial (hell)fire. Still other people ask Jesus (in words that echo the counsel of Satan earlier in the Gospel) to prove whose side he’s on: Others, to test him, kept demanding a sign from heaven (11:16).
I feel pretty sure about which side Jesus is on in the crises I’ve been facing. He heals rather than spreading disease; speaks truth rather than reposting dog whistles and lies; he calms the raging storms rather than denying them; he blesses the children, he doesn’t bury and try to forget them.
But Jesus’ response in the Gospel isn’t to quell tensions. He doesn’t come out with a statement or a miraculous demonstration that puts definitively his position. He refuses to sign on and endorse any of the first-century party platforms. He even unsettles his own supporters: they cry out blessings on him, and he fires back, “No, blessed are those rather who hear the word of God and do it!” (11:28). He announces, “If by the finger of God I throw out demons, then God’s kingdom has come to you … Whoever is not with me is against me” (11:20, 23).
Strong, troublesome words, Jesus. You sure know how to stir things up.
I don’t come to Jesus asking him to sign on to my program, my politics or proposed protocols (at least not all the time). I just want him to show me the way. My tension isn’t about who he is. It’s about what it is I should do in his name.
But, Jesus answers me, maybe my tension really is about who he is.
He tells the crowd looking for a sign, “No sign will be given except the sign of Jonah” (11:29). It’s clear that even Jesus’ earliest followers weren’t quite sure what to make of this pronouncement. In Matthew’s version of this story, Jesus draws a connection between the prophet’s days and nights in the belly of the fish and his own impending days and nights in the grave (see Matthew 12:40). But in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus points to the person of the prophet. Jonah himself “became a sign to the people of Nineveh” which led to the Assyrian powerhouse’s dramatic repentance. (Read Jonah 4; the king even makes the cows repent dressed in sackcloth!) Likewise, Jesus himself is the sign to his generation. He is the hand of God working in their midst, showing the way of God more clearly than all the wisdom of Solomon, proclaiming good news better than the fish-smelling prophet. “Look! Something greater than Jonah is here!” (11:32).
Jesus concludes this pronouncement on sign-seeking by asking us to look ourselves in the eye. “Your eye is the lamp of your body.” Your way of looking, what you’re looking for, determines what you see. “If your eye is whole, your whole body is full of light; if your eye is evil, your body is full of darkness” (11:34).
My sign-seeking prayers are most often looking for divine validation that I’m on the right track. Whether it’s at a denominational level (pushing for a church-wide reckoning with what a just reconciliation with Indigenous peoples asks of us), at a congregational level (how long are we willing to mask to welcome kids in the midst of ongoing pandemic?), or at a personal level (do I open this can-of-worms conversation by sending this text?), I want to know I’m doing things right. I want God to give me an approving nod and smile. It wouldn’t hurt to have that in my back pocket when I run into blowback or rough water with institutions or friends.
But Jesus tells me the only sign is himself. Matthew’s Gospel account specifies that the only sign for me is Jesus misunderstood, slandered, sabotaged, shamed, executed, and buried—“three days and nights in the heart of the earth.” And Jesus tells us everywhere that the right path, the only path, is one that follows him to that place. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23).
Jesus doesn’t lead me out of my tensions. Instead, he invites me deeper into his.
Perhaps his tensions are different from mine. Perhaps he heals my eyes and fills my heart with light, tells me not to fear because I am “worth more than many sparrows” and “all the hairs on my head are numbered” (Luke 12:7).
But there he stands, always in the middle of controversy and opposition. If I’m going to be with him, I too should probably get comfortable here.
Thank you for reading the New Leaf Advent Reader, a collection of reflections from writers across Canada. If you are enjoying the reader, sign up to receive the readings in your inbox each day here: SIGN UP
And please share this reflection with your friends and family who might also enjoy it.
