Unfailing Love

How do you know when you’re officially old? Your permanent address is now Memory Lane.

I’m must be getting close because I find myself traveling down Memory Lane more and more these days. Such is the case as I've thought about our sermon text. It takes me back to my youth where I sat in the pew at St. Matthew Lutheran Church (Mapleton, Iowa).

“Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband,” says the Lord.

“Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. For you will spread out to the right and to the left; your descendants will dispossess nations and settle in their desolate cities.

“Do not be afraid; you will not be put to shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood. For your Maker is your husband—the Lord Almighty is His name—the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; He is called the God of all the earth. The Lord will call you back as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit—a wife who married young, only to be rejected,” says your God.

“For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with deep compassion I will bring you back. In a surge of anger I hid my face from you for a moment, but with everlasting kindness I will have compassion on you,” says the Lord your Redeemer.

“To me this is like the days of Noah, when I swore that the waters of Noah would never again cover the earth. So now I have sworn not to be angry with you, never to rebuke you again. Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on you.”

This is the Word of the Lord (Isaiah 54:1-10).

When I was growing up, these sorts of passages confused me. A desolate woman, lengthened cords, strengthened stakes, and dispossessed nations?!? It was a holy mess to me. Texts like Isaiah 54 went in one ear and out the other. They were so foreign to my experience; what did they have to do with me?

If my memory is correct, our pastors rarely preached on the prophets. Standing in the pulpit now for more than a decade and a half myself, I can understand why my pastors didn’t. It would take a month of Bible classes to begin to unpack the dense imagery found in our sermon text.

To be honest, it has taken me a long, long time to warm up to the prophet Isaiah. I need the reminder of just how important a role his book plays in our life with God. The Student Bible has an excellent introduction that sets the stage:

“The Prophet Isaiah was a giant of Jewish history. He was the Shakespeare of Hebrew literature, and the New Testament quotes him more than all the other prophets combined. No other biblical author can match his rich vocabulary and use of imagery.”

“Isaiah lived at a crucial time midway between the founding of the kingdom under Saul and David and its eventual destruction. A civil war had split the Israelites into North and South.”

Isaiah prophesied 700 years before Christ. He had much to say about the coming Messiah.

The God who spoke through the prophet reminded the people of the day, “Holy is the Lord.” This is a reminder that the Church in America also desperately needs to hear and heed.

In His perfect timing, the holy Lord would judge His people. This alien work would make way to the Gospel: “For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with deep compassion I will bring you back. In a surge of anger I hid my face from you for a moment, but with everlasting kindness I will have compassion on you,” says the Lord your Redeemer.

This is very much in keeping with the purpose of Lent. We join with Habakkuk in praying: In wrath, remember mercy, O Lord. This leads us back to Isaiah as the Lord responds:

You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood. For your Maker is your husband—the Lord Almighty is His name—the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; He is called the God of all the earth. The Lord will call you back as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit—a wife who married young, only to be rejected,” says your God.

Does this bring anyone to mind? It does for me. We hear echoes of last week’s sermon texts—the prophets Hosea and Ezekiel. Listen again: For your Maker is your husband—the Lord Almighty is His name—the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; He is called the God of all the earth. The Lord will call you back as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit—a wife who married young, only to be rejected,” says your God.

Time and time again, the Holy One declares His passionate love for His people. No human husband was ever more intensely in love with his bride as the Lord was with Israel.

This prepared the way for the Holy One who came in flesh and blood. He is the ultimate fulfillment of all of God’s promises, including this amazing one delivered by Isaiah: Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on you.

Doesn’t this promise fit Jesus to a T!

He is the solid rock to which we cling when storms come. Heaven and earth may pass away, but His word endures forever. His compassions they fail not. Just ask the widow of Nain, or the woman at the well. Go ahead and ask Jairus or his daughter. Talk to the Syrophoenician woman, or the man possessed with an army of demons.

Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on you.”

Doesn’t this promise fit Jesus to a T!

He is the solid rock to which we cling when storms come. Heaven and earth may pass away, but His word endures forever. His compassions they fail not.

Just ask Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. While you’re at it, do the same with the thief on the cross.

Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on you.”

As I think about this tremendous promise, I am reminded of a great confession of sin we use here at Our Saviour’s:

“O almighty God, merciful Father, I, a poor sinner, have lived as if You did not matter and as if I mattered most. Your name I have not honored as I should; my worship and my prayers have faltered. I have not let Your love have its way with me, and so my love for others has failed. There are those whom I have hurt, and those whom I have failed to help. My thoughts and desires have been soiled with sin. I am sorry for all of this and ask for grace.”

This confession of sin fits me to a T. I am poor (and miserable) sinner. All too often, I live as if God doesn’t matter and as if I mattered most. I have not honored God’s name. My worship and prayers falter all the time. I don’t let God’s love have its way with me, and so love for others fails. It does so on a regular, even daily basis. There are many whom I have hurt, as well as many whom I have failed to help. I am filthy as a pig with sin.

How about you?

What is our hope? It is in the unfailing love of God. Where is our hope? It is in the unfailing love of Christ. Just ask Peter for whom the cock crowed a second time. Just ask Thomas who touched the crucified and risen Lord.

Our hope is in the unfailing love of the God of the cross. Our hope is in the unfailing love of Christ. This is our Lenten hope.

Our hope is in the One who loved us to His dying breath. Our hope is in the One who gave His life for our sakes and for our salvation. Our hope is the Love that did not fail but rose again three days later. His unshakeable, unstoppable love is our hope in life and death.

Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on you.