February 27 sermon

Text: Isaiah 49:8-16a
Preached February 27 and March 2 at First Lutheran


Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

I’m sure it would come as no surprise to you if I were to tell you that our world isn’t perfect. In fact, it’s quite broken. Suffering is a reality, and God’s people are certainly not exempt.

Turn on the evening news, open a newspaper, or catch up online. However you stay informed, chances are that most of what you’re hearing isn’t good. And, of course, we all have personal connections to people suffering serious illness, grief, addiction, or some other kind of distress. Some of us are suffering in these ways ourselves.

It would seem there’s plenty to worry about. And we do. But we are not the first. God’s people have always known suffering, and God’s people have always known the anxiety that comes with it.

The Israelites of Isaiah’s time witnessed the complete destruction of their city when it was conquered by Babylon. Jerusalem was demolished, and the temple along with it. The great city of God and his holy dwelling place were in ruins, and the people were hauled off to Babylon in captivity. God’s people lived in a foreign culture, surrounded by reminders of their oppressor’s strength and their own defeat.

And in the midst of their defeat and pain, there was also worry: “The Lord has forsaken me,” they cried, “my Lord has forgotten me.” In the midst of their brokenness, the people of Israel felt abandoned by God. Away from Jerusalem, they feared they were “out of sight, out of mind.”

I’m sure we can relate in the midst of our own brokenness. We just confessed that we are captive to sin, in exile and alienated from God, surrounded by suffering as a result. And we are terrified.

We’re afraid our suffering means nothing to anyone. We’re afraid we are forgotten by everyone around us, and we are afraid we are forgotten by God. Our anxiety turns us in upon ourselves, narrowing our focus until we feel like we're living in isolation.

But God never forgets his people. Even when things seem bleak, God remembers. God asks through Isaiah, “Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.”

Last weekend, I visited my brother and sister-in-law, and met my newborn niece. I saw first-hand—and many of you know this better than I—that a nursing mother cannot forget her child. Newborns, especially, have to eat all the time, and they aren’t shy about letting everybody know it.

As impossible as it would be for a nursing mother to forget her baby, God says it is even more impossible for God to forget his people.

And God doesn’t stop there. God says, “See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands.”

It sounds a little like a tattoo, doesn’t it? Ask anyone who has a tattoo, and they’ll probably tell you its significance. Body art is almost never random or purely aesthetic. In most cases, it’s deeply personal and imbued with layers of meaning. Those names on God’s palms are not mere words. They mean something. God knows each and every one of us. No one is unknown to God.

And how many times a day do you see your palms? This is how close to God’s consciousness you are. Each one of you, and me too. God’s people are never “out of sight, out of mind.” No one is forgotten by God.

Like a mother who cares for her dependent, nursing baby, God has intense compassion for those who suffer. God hears his people and answers them when they cry. “In a time of favor I have answered you, on a day of salvation I have helped you….For the Lord has comforted his people, and will have compassion on his suffering ones.”

Through Isaiah, God tells the exiled people of Israel that he will set them free and restore them to their home. God says to the prisoners, “Come out,” and “to those who are in darkness, ‘Show yourselves’.” God leads his people to freedom and safety, and provides for them throughout the journey:

“They shall feed along the ways,
on all the bare heights shall be their pasture;
they shall not hunger or thirst,
neither scorching wind nor sun shall strike them down,
for he who has pity on them will lead them,
and by springs of water will guide them.”

What a promise of relief! What a contrast to the dreary, painful trek into exile! What a picture of God’s abundance and protection!

Jesus paints a similar picture. “Look at the birds of the air,” he says. “They neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” And “consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field…will he not much more clothe you…?”

We do not live in isolation. We live under the watchful, caring gaze of our Father in heaven, this God who remembers each and every one of his people, who has inscribed us on the palm of his hand. This God who suffers as we suffer, who is as full of compassion as a loving mother. This God who, through his Son, bids us “come out” of captivity and be restored to our home with God. This God who provides for us and sustains us throughout our journey.

God remembers each of us, and so we, too, remember. We remember what God has done for us, and we live in peace, responding with thanks and praise: “Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth; break forth, O mountains, into singing!” Isaiah tells us that God’s people, along with all of creation, sing and rejoice in response to God’s goodness.

The joy of God’s care and our freedom from worry doesn’t mean we live in a constant emotional high. It doesn’t even mean we will always be happy. Suffering, as we said, is a reality, even though we are remembered and loved by God.

But there is a difference between happiness and peace. Happiness is fleeting and superficial. It depends on the external circumstances in which we find ourselves. When things go well, we are happy, and that is certainly not a bad thing! But it’s difficult to be happy in the midst of illness or economic need or other suffering.

We can, however, find peace and joy even in the midst of suffering. These things do not depend on our external circumstances. They depend only on faith and trust in God’s goodness and love. When we know that God is on our side, we can be at peace even when things seem bleak.

The psalmist paints us a picture of what it might look like to live in God’s peace: “I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.” It’s an image of serenity and contentment, of comfort and security. It’s an image of letting go of that which is outside our control.

The psalm also encourages us to recognize God as the source of our joy and peace: “O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time on and forevermore.” Neither Isaiah, nor the psalmist, nor Jesus himself offer us a promise that all will be well in this very moment. But they do offer a promise that God will be with us in the midst of our distress, that God will care for us and comfort us, and that God will make all things new.

God remembers each of us, and so we, too, remember. Not only do we remember what God has done for us, but we remember those around us, those who are also beloved of God. We do not live in isolation, but we live in the midst of a world in need of our love and service. Living in God’s care is not about detachment from the world, but about attachment to Jesus and his teachings, and to the needs of our neighbors. And so we reach out to share God’s love with others.

I said earlier that worry is inherently individual and isolating. It turns us in upon ourselves so that we are blinded by the fear of being forgotten. We are blinded to God’s presence and compassion. And we are blinded to the needs of the world.

This is not how God wants us to live. God remembers us—all of us—and so should we remember one another. God has compassion on all who suffer—and so should we be full of compassion.

Isaiah tells us that God’s servant is given “as a covenant to the people.” God’s people do not seek only their own good. They seek also to bless others with the love of God. God’s love is not about isolation, but about community.

Jesus tells us in the gospel reading to “strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness.” God’s kingdom is about freedom. Through Christ, God sets us free from captivity to sin, and reconciles us to God and to one another. In the same way, God sets us free from worry by assuring us of his sustaining presence even in the midst of our struggles.

And as we are set free from worry, we are set free for service. We are set free to strive for the kingdom of God, so that all people may come to know God’s righteousness and justice and mercy and love.

We remember those in need because we know God remembers them, just as God remembers each one of us. You are not alone, and you are not forgotten.

You are loved by a God whose love is more intense and more personal than a mother’s. You are loved by a God who pays attention even to the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, and who watches over you with even more care. You are loved by a God who has inscribed you on the palm of his hand, always to be remembered.

Thanks be to God! Amen.