| November 29, 2009
From The First Baptist Church in America pulpit – Providence, Rhode Island
One of the more exciting things I did during our AZ days was ride side-saddle with one of our church members who served in the famous “Sun City Posse.” On one occasion the dispatcher advised us of an emergency call -- to check out a home of an elderly lady with the tell-tale signs: stacked up mail, neighbors hadn’t seen her for days. While the Posse took a closer look, I couldn’t legally get out of the car. So as I sat there, I noticed 2 palm trees in the yard where we were parked. One was healthy, stately, and sound. The other had gotten sickly, and all that was left was a stump about 3' tall.
Now please understand that my life is usually more exciting than staring at a tree stump! ‘Cause they’re not much to look at. Just a plain block of wood in the ground, all that’s left, after a power saw sliced through what took decades to grow. A stump is a reminder of something that used-to-be, when a majestic oak stood, tall and firm, deeply rooted, spreading its branches to shade us from the sun. Birds and squirrels made their homes there. Children climbed its trunk and the limbs held their swings.
A tree stump means -- no more shade from the sun, no more color in the autumn, no more nests for the birds, no more acorns for the squirrels, no more swings for the kids. That’s over and done with now that a stump is all that’s left. When we see a tree stump, we know that a noble hardwood was either felled by the wind or otherwise got in somebody’s way. However strong, tall or colorful it might’ve been, it stood no chance before the blade amputated the major part.
A stump may be boring to look at, but the prophet saw in it a symbol of one of the most difficult experiences people can know -- something that once was, is now gone. All that’s left of what used to be is a stark stub protruding from the ground, marking an ending in nature, and an emptiness in human nature. Today is the First Sunday of Advent, preparing for a beginning. The prophet reminds us that there are a lot of endings in a normal year of life; painful reminders of good times turning into hard times. Like a noble tree, severed from its most meaningful part, people grieve for what used to be a part of their lives but isn’t there any more. It’s a natural part of aging.
After 2001, the stump is symbolized by the Trade Towers terrorist attack, and what’s left of these hallmarks of modern engineering; along with the insecurity we feel because of it. Soldiers return from war with stumps for limbs. Our health eventually will become, like a stump, as our body parts no longer work like they used to. Family problems stump a lot of us. I saw where four were shot in Florida yesterday. Relationships crumble for lots of silly reasons, leaving us with an aching void -- especially at Thanksgiving or holiday seasons.
If you’re normal, no doubt you have some stumpy leftovers of the broken places in your life that makes it easy to identify with our text. Everybody has things that once were, but can’t be anymore. All that remains is a stump of what’s left behind. But a stump is also one tough hombre! You ever try to pull one up? Might as well pour chemicals on it and set it afire, you’d have more luck. Though a stump is a leftover from another time, it’s still durable. Stumps don’t give up easily. They sink their roots into the ground and hang on doggedly. Down below the surface, spreading roots can be tenacious. There’s usually some fight left which makes them hard to get rid of. It may just be residue of what used-to-be, but it can be stubborn as it clings to the dirt, refusing to surrender its place on the earth.
I noticed that the palm tree stump had a sapling growing out of the middle of it. The owner had turned something dead into something useful, a planting pot. That’s what our prophet did – seeing something redemptive in what was past its time. God can bring dead things back to life! From what appears to be finished comes new life, fresh growth, hopeful possibilities springing-up from the ground. Once again, green leaves soak up the sunshine; new branches reach upward to the sky.
Isaiah is talking about a stump because his people had known a lot of desolation. The kingdom of Israel that formerly made up the vast empire of David was now just a withering stump. It had once been strong, majestic, imposing. The people found security and stability within its walls because David could conquer giants! Now it was chopped down to size. The once mighty city of David had stumbled into exile. And only bleakness remained, compared to what it once was.
God’s messenger proclaims hope in the midst of this hopelessness: a new king will emerge, a gentler-kinder leader, with the Spirit of the Lord resting upon him. He will rule with wisdom, compassion and fairness, not neglecting the poor and ensuring justice for all. Isaiah says the kingdom that was David’s will be even better than before. Christians have interpreted the prophet Isaiah to refer to Jesus -- God’s new growth from an old stump. From the sins and failures of the world, from the pain and grief of life’s thorniest experiences, Jesus is the “new shoot” that brings hope of healing, peace, justice, and mercy.
Matthew tells us about John getting thrown in jail for preaching too plainly. That’s when he began to wonder about Jesus’ methods. John, who once proclaimed his cousin as “The Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world,” may have gotten Jesus wrong about being the Messiah. John didn’t like the way he was going about it. He could see no stumps left from the “ax being laid at the root of the trees.” John was serious! He laid his neck on the line and got it chopped off! But because of his disappointment in Jesus, he went looking for another messiah. “Where are the stumps? John said there’d be stumps. Where are the stumps?” After all the waiting, hoping, suffering -- the only stumps John saw were those of defeatist religion; the cruelty of Roman military occupation, and the corruption of Herod’s government. That’s why John wanted to know “Are you the one, or should we look for another?”
And Jesus didn’t answer John’s question, because answers have an agenda. He just told him what he’d been doing while John was behind bars. Just like he said he was going to do the first time he preached in his hometown synagogue and nearly got killed for including outcasts. That’s because Jesus model of the Messiah came from Isaiah the prophet. How do we know when Messiah has come? “When the blind receive their sight, the lame start to walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf begin to hear, and the poor have the good news preached to them.”
Those are the “signs of the times!” Healing. When we see new life pushing its way up from a dead stump. That’s when we know the Messiah has come. As we move on past another Thanksgiving holiday that leads into the beginning of a new church year with Advent, I hope it could be a time of healing for us too, for wherever you’re hurting. There are various kinds of healing. There’s a scab that hardens over a cut on your hand. Or the peace that comes from a ruptured relationship. The joy of release that happens when forgiveness heals a broken heart. New growth from old stumps! Healing comes when strength grows out of our broken places, returning from exile, good out of evil, life out of death. That’s the Messiah Isaiah was talking about.
It is the business of the church, to spend time focusing upon renewal, by touching the people where they’re hurting and trying to provide the spiritual resources for new growth. When it comes to church, numbers are a poor way to determine growth. The real success of a church is what goes on outside these walls during the week. I’ve seen the Messiah among us since I’ve come here. In the many fine ministries you provide. I saw it last week in your commitment when you laid your pledges on the altar. It’s in the missional education of our young, holding the hands of the old, welcoming the new, accepting strangers.
There is no experience more barren as a tree stump, like losing someone we love. I’ve seen that too. And it’s like having something cut away from our lives, as though an ax had chopped our hearts in two. Grief is especially rough during the holidays when we feel our loneliness the most. It makes the pain more poignant and opens up deep wounds all over again. The stump of your grief is the little voice that tells you that you won’t be buying a gift this year, or making your favorite dessert. And this can be overwhelming. All the bright lights of cheer and colorful wrappings can’t hide our sorrow in these special days, when all we have left of a former relationship is a brown stump.
We’re helpless to do anything about it because nobody can regrow a tree. Once its cut down, its gone. But the prophet reminds us that “a shoot can grow from the stump.” The sprout is God’s healing that helps us keep on going. Some losses are so devastating you never get over them. You just have to go on. Life is never the same again. But we gather in the house of God in Advent to contemplate Isaiah’s stump from Jesse’s seed, to be reminded of how God never runs out of life.
The scriptures says desolation is the womb from which hope emerges. Hope does not dispel the hurt because reality is real. But hope & hurt persists, side-by-each, because hurt met by faith yields a new vision. Our faith tells us stumps are no match for Christ. When life is most hopeless, that’s when God is the nearest. Despair touched by the hand of God serves as the stump of explosive promise.
It’s naive to think all our problems will be solved during the holidays. Especially our national ones! But if something is missing from our lives, disappointments in what should be growing and thriving and flourishing seems lifeless the church gives us Advent to remind us, what seems lost can be found. What seems empty can be filled. What is broken can be made whole. And what seems dead can come back to life. Easter at Christmas! This is our faith. If you can believe it, then there is hope.
Providence Prayers 11-29-09 (1st Sunday of Advent)
Created male and female, known by Thee since the days of our birth, today we claim Thy greatest promise to us: “to never leave us nor forsake us” and the redemption of a “groaning creation.” For the wisdom of the Living Word and the guidance of His Spirit we are grateful; and for the faith that prompts us to make preparations and for the King who makes “Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” For brave prophets who taught us to show mercy and seek justice. And “let righteousness flow down like a mighty stream.”
And for this church family that calls us to live at our best, and make the love of Jesus felt in this community. Give us a renewed sense of what is vital in life, lest we squander our years, and waste our time on inflated trifles. May we have something more to show on Christmas Day than tired feet, empty pockets, and empty lives. May Thy healing presence be felt in this congregation: still our fears, lighten our pain, enliven our worship, strengthen our faith, invigorate us with the hope and joy and peace that Advent brings. Through Christ our Lord.
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