Reflection by The Rev'd Dr. Deborah Broome

Concrete joy when it’s needed

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly and rejoice with joy and shouting. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the Lord, the majesty of our God.

Strengthen the weak hands and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God.    He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense.  He will come and save you.”

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be opened; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp; the grass shall become reeds and rushes.

A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way; the unclean shall not travel on it, but it shall be for God’s people;   no traveller, not even fools, shall go astray. No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it; they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there. And the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

Isaiah 35:1–10

Advent is a season of waiting – but this week, we’re invited to rejoice. Not in vague, sentimental terms, but in the concrete renewal that God brings.  Isaiah’s words tumble with joy: “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly and rejoice with joy and singing.”

Isaiah paints a picture of hope for a people who desperately need it.  He layers image upon image: a wilderness bursting into bloom, weak hands strengthened, fearful hearts reassured, exiles returning home with singing.  This is joy rooted in hope, hope grounded in what God will do, bringing life to the emptiness of a desert.  Concrete joy when it’s needed.

Why does Isaiah make these images so vivid?  Because only hope expressed in tangible terms can pull people away from despair.  Look, there’s a crocus in the desert!  Strong trees, waters breaking forth in the wilderness, streams running through dry land, reeds and rushes around a swamp.  These are signs of life, drawn from everyday experience.  If you’ve ever faced a summer drought, you know how powerful that promise feels.

Isaiah also speaks to human frailty: “Strengthen the weak hands, make firm the feeble knees.” That sounds like many of our congregations – not just the physical aches of ageing, but the weariness of small communities caring for large buildings or wondering about the future.  We so need these images of joy and renewal.  Isaiah’s message is clear:  “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God.”

Advent reminds us that God is at work: coming closer, transforming the world and transforming us.  Christian hope makes us different from two other groups of people: the despairing, who believe nothing will ever change (unless it gets worse), and the self-sufficient, who think they can fix everything themselves.  Our hope is founded on the God we know from the past, meet in the present, and trust for the future.  Joy and renewal can come – but we need to depend on God, not ourselves.

So what does this mean for us today?  It means looking for signs of God’s renewal – even little ones.  A conversation that brings comfort.  A relationship healed.  A glimpse of beauty in creation.  These are markers of God’s kingdom breaking in, signals of joy rooted in hope.

This week, see if you can spot one sign of renewal, in your life or in the world around you.  Share it with someone.  Encourage one person who feels weak or worn down.  Advent joy isn’t abstract; it’s concrete, grounded in God’s promise to bring life where there was only emptiness.

Isaiah’s vision ends with a picture of homecoming: God’s people walking the “holy way,” returning with singing, crowned with everlasting joy.  That’s the future God holds for us.  We don’t of course know when that future will arrive – that’s part of the Advent message – but until it does come, let’s strengthen our weak hands, make firm our feeble knees, and remind ourselves and each other, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God.”   Concrete joy—when it’s needed most.