Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

The Story Doesn’t Always Go the Way You Had in Mind
(Isaiah 61, Psalm 119:49-72, Luke 18:31-19:10)

Collect for the Third Sunday in Advent
O Lord Jesus Christ, you sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Grant that the ministers and stewards of your mysteries may likewise make ready your way, by turning the hearts of the disobedient toward the wisdom of the just, that at your second coming to judge the world, we may be found a people acceptable in your sight; for with the Father and the Holy Spirit you live and reign, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Collect for Ember Days
Almighty God, the giver of all good gifts, in your divine providence you have appointed various orders in your Church: Give your grace, we humbly pray, to all who are [now] called to any office and ministry for your people; and so fill them with the truth of your doctrine and clothe them with holiness of life, that they may faithfully serve before you, to the glory of your great Name and for the benefit of your holy Church; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Our King and Savior nows draw near;
O come, let us adore him.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Fifty-two years ago this month, Warner Brothers released the Robert Redford film Jeremiah Johnson about a Mexican-American War veteran who leaves civilization behind for a life as a mountain man: a trapper, hunter, and a trader when he is forced to come into town. He has had enough of people and enough of killing; now he wants a solitary life. The film was shot in the mountains of Utah, and the imagery is stunningly beautiful. The soundtrack is a perfect marriage of music and story. But, the lyrics of the main ballad, written by Tim McIntire, announce from the opening scene that all will not be well:

Jeremiah Johnson made his way into the mountains
Bettin’ on forgettin’ all the troubles that he knew
The trail was wide and narrow
And the eagle or the sparrow
Showed the path he was to follow as they flew.
A  mountain man’s a lonely man
And he leaves a life behind
It ought to have been different, but oftimes you will find,
That the story doesn’t always go that way you had in mind.
Jeremiah’s story was that kind. . .
Jeremiah’s story was that kind.

I cannot help but hear echos of the biblical and prophetic in these lines:

It ought to have been different, but oftimes you will find,
That the story doesn’t always go that way you had in mind.
Jeremiah’s story was that kind. . .
Jeremiah’s story was that kind.

The Jeremiah in the lyrics is the Jeremiah Johnson of the film, of course, but it could just as well be Jeremiah the prophet or Isaiah the prophet or any of the other biblical prophets, and the story that doesn’t go the way you had in mind could be the story of Israel or Judah or the story of all humanity. How many times hearing these stories have we thought, it ought to have been different?

Adam and Eve dwelt in Paradise with all their needs met, with a grand vocation, with the very source of life at their ready access, with God in their midst, and yet they listened to the tempter and embraced his lie. They became subject to death, to sin, to the fallen powers as they were exiled into a world of their own desecration. It ought to have been different, but the story doesn’t always go the way you had in mind.

God called Abram to head a people through whom God would redeem the mess Adam and Eve had created and each subsequent generation had exacerbated. And in just three generations this family found itself doing slave labor for the Egyptians and found its male babies being sacrificed to the gods of Egyptian power. It ought to have been different, but the story doesn’t always go the way you had in mind.

With a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, God judged the Egyptians and delivered the Hebrews only to have them return to Egypt in heart and mind and to fall prostrate before a god of their own making. That generation wandered in the wilderness for forty years until their bodies littered the desert; only three adults survived the trek. It ought to have been different, but the story doesn’t always go the way you had in mind.

God led this second generation — the sons and daughters of slaves — into the land of promise and empowered them to dispossess the indigenous inhabitants whose cup of iniquity was full. But the third generation, and several following, forgot God. They did what was right in their own eyes, and God gave them up to oppressors. When they finally remembered God and called to him for deliverance, God raised up Judges to free his people from oppression. And then the cycle started again, round after round: deliverance, forgetfulness, idolatry, oppression, repentance and back around again. It ought to have been different, but the story doesn’t always go the way you had in mind.

Finally, and prematurely, the people demanded a king and God acquiesced. But this united kingdom lasted only three generations — through kings Saul, David, and Solomon — with mixed results. Then, when Solomon’s son demonstrated arrogant foolishness and a total disregard for God’s standards of rule, God divided the kingdom: Israel in the north, which immediately became apostate, and Judah in the south which remained somewhat faithful somewhat longer. God delivered Israel up to the Assyrians, and Israel — ten tribes — was dispersed through the nations and lost from the story. Judah fared a bit better, but they, too, put their faith in the wrong things — treacherous political alliances, wealth, false gods — until God removed himself from their midst and delivered his temple and his people over to the Babylonians. It ought to have been different, but the story doesn’t always go the way you had in mind.

And this is where we find the story as we read Isaiah 61: Judah in exile in Babylon with its story stalled, if not derailed entirely. And there is no way to move forward, no way out, humanly speaking. Only a deus ex machina will do: a god from a machine. A deus ex machina is a theatrical device from ancient Greek and Roman dramas used to resolve a hopeless plot line, a stalled and derailed story. An actor representing a god was lowered to the stage by a crane or similar device — hence, god from a machine — and the god used his/her powers to do that which was humanly impossible, to put the story right again, to get it moving in the right direction. In fiction, I find the deus ex machina absolutely detestable, the mark of a totally incompetent author. In history, I find the deus ex machina absolutely essential, the mark of a totally compromised humanity and a God absolutely devoted to their redemption.

In Isaiah 61 we have not a deus ex machina but rather the Deum de Deo, lumen de Lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero: God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God. It is not some actor using a feeble literary plot device who can set the story of Judah on its feet again, but rather the Author himself entering the story as the protagonist, as the only one who who can bring the story to its proper end. That is Isaiah’s proclamation; that is God’s proclamation through Isaiah. It ought to have been different, and it will be; God will make it so. The story doesn’t always go the way you had in mind, but this one will do; God will make it so.

Isaiah 61:1–4 (ESV):

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,

because the Lord has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor;

he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;

2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,

and the day of vengeance of our God;

to comfort all who mourn;

3 to grant to those who mourn in Zion—

to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;

that they may be called oaks of righteousness,

the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.

4 They shall build up the ancient ruins;

they shall raise up the former devastations;

they shall repair the ruined cities,

the devastations of many generations.

Notice how down-to-earth the story is. It begins moving again in the right direction only when the poor get some good news. And what would that look like? Your debts have been paid off; you’re flush with all your creditors. You even have a little bit of cushion so that you no longer have to worry where you next meal is coming from or where you’re going to sleep tonight. The story begins moving in the right direction only when the brokenhearted get some relief. And what would that look like? Those who have been rejected and cast out are welcomed home again. Those who have lost everything find themselves restored and renewed. Those who have been vilified are now vindicated. Those who went out weeping, carrying the seed have returned with joy, bringing their sheaves with them (Ps 126:7). The story begins moving in the right direction again only when the captives have been set free. And what would that look like? The convicted are pardoned. The hostages are freed. The refugee camps are dismantled and emptied because they are no longer needed; the exiles are on their way home. This is what it looks like when God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God enters the stalled story and starts it moving again in the right direction. This is what was promised to Judah in the midst of Babylonian exile, promised by the prophet Isaiah.

But, it was also promised again in a synagogue in Nazareth. The return of the Judean exiles was just a signpost pointing toward the putting to rights of an even greater story — the story of fallen man and cursed creation.

Luke 4:16–21 (ESV):

16 And [Jesus] came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up. And as was his custom, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and he stood up to read. 17 And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written,

18 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

because he has anointed me

to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives

and recovering of sight to the blind,

to set at liberty those who are oppressed,

19 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

20 And he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant and sat down. And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. 21 And he began to say to them, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

What the Father did in part for Judah, the Son — the anointed one — will do in full for all men and women, for all creation. It was still at this point only a proclamation of the good things to come — still only good news, gospel — but it was and is coming at last in its fullness. No longer will we need to say:

It ought to have been different, but oftimes you will find,
That the story doesn’t always go that way you had in mind.

It will be different. The story will reach its proper end.

That is the way Isaiah 61 works in the grand narrative of redemption. But, perhaps it can be personalized, as well? Each of us inhabits a story. And sometimes our stories stall out; sometimes they derail. Sometimes we become acutely aware that it ought to have been different, that it hasn’t gone the way we had in mind, and that there is no way for us to put it right ourselves. We find ourselves in some way deeply impoverished, brokenhearted, captive, bound. We are stalled, stuck; we can’t move forward. Then all we can do is listen for the word from outside, from Deum de deo, God from God:

18 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

because he has anointed me

to proclaim good news (Luke 4:18).

The anointed one has come, is coming to us again and again, and will come on the last great day to put the story fully to rights. In the meantime, he gets our stalled stories moving again, perhaps not precisely in the way we had in mind, but always in a better way, in the right way. We may see that now and we may not, but we live by faith and not by sight. It is the year of the Lord’s favor, this year and every year for those who have heard and received the proclamation of the good news.

There is one other aspect of Isaiah’s proclamation that we cannot overlook:

Isaiah 61:6 (ESV):

6 but you shall be called the priests of the Lord;

they shall speak of you as the ministers of our God.

A minister is a representative, one who acts on behalf of another to accomplish the other’s purpose. If it is God’s purpose to give good news to the poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and the opening of the prisons to those who are bound — and it is — then that must become our work, our ministry. God moves our stalled stories forward so that we might become his agents in the world to get other stories moving again in the right direction. In so doing, we become priests of the Lord: those who mediate God to the world and who gather up the pain and suffering and hope and praise of the world and offer it all back to God. As Jesus for Judah, so, too, the Church for the world: the ones anointed to bring good news.

Isaiah 61:11 (ESV):

11 For as the earth brings forth its sprouts,

and as a garden causes what is sown in it to sprout up,

so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise

to sprout up before all the nations.

Amen.