Hey everyone,
Out of an abundance of caution—and following the advice of our trustees and board chair, as well as the example of other churches in the area—we’ve decided to cancel all services and programming for tomorrow. This includes worship, City Kids, youth, our Friendship Class, and any other in-person gatherings.
I encourage you to stay home, stay warm, and take care of yourselves. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m happy to help make sure you have what you need.
While you’re at home, you can find the scripture reading and brief reflection below—a shorter version of Sunday's sermon. I encourage you to take some time with this. Many of you will recognize this passage—it’s one that’s often read on Christmas Eve, along with a brief reflection.
Finally, I encourage you to check out our announcements, including information about a future trip to Honduras we’re planning, along with a few other updates worth your time, and don't forget to consider what you might give to continue our important work in the community.
Thank you, and stay safe.
Joe Graves
Give Online
Isaiah 9:1-7
9 Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will honor Galilee of the nations, by the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan—
2 The people walking in darkness
have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
a light has dawned.
3 You have enlarged the nation
and increased their joy;
they rejoice before you
as people rejoice at the harvest,
as warriors rejoice
when dividing the plunder.
4 For as in the day of Midian’s defeat,
you have shattered
the yoke that burdens them,
the bar across their shoulders,
the rod of their oppressor.
5 Every warrior’s boot used in battle
and every garment rolled in blood
will be destined for burning,
will be fuel for the fire.
6 For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
7 Of the greatness of his government and peace
there will be no end.
He will reign on David’s throne
and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it
with justice and righteousness
from that time on and forever.
The zeal of the Lord Almighty
will accomplish this.
Reflection
This is a fascinating and layered text. Originally, it was written about a king and most likely referred to a specific ruler in Israel’s history, spoken into a moment of real fear and instability. Zebulun and Naphtali were border regions—often invaded, often forgotten, often the first to suffer when empires marched through. This was poetry written for people who knew what it meant to live under threat, humiliation, and loss.
Over time, this passage was reused and reinterpreted. It became language for future kings, a kind of template for what faithful leadership should look like. It was likely a coronation poem, read when a child became king, reflecting on their birth and looking forward to their reign. That alone is striking: the story of power begins not with conquest, but with a birth.
Finally, it came to be understood as pointing beyond any single ruler, to the Messiah. As Christians, we read this text through the lens of Jesus. This is a good example of how interpretations of passages shift over time.
At the heart of the passage is a bold claim: God’s vision of justice is not abstract or private. It is deeply political. Isaiah imagines a world where gloom lifts, where oppression ends, where the tools of violence are rendered useless—burned, no longer needed. The yoke is broken. The rod of the oppressor is shattered. (see vs. 4). This is referring to systemic, structural change.
That’s why the good news is political. Not partisan, per se,—but political in the truest sense, because it concerns how power is used and how people are treated. Governments matter. Leaders matter. Policies matter. God’s peace—what we call shalom—is not merely the absence of conflict, but the presence of wholeness: care for neighbors, protection for widows and orphans, dignity for immigrants and outsiders, joy shared across a widened community.
“For if you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly act justly one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place,” Jeremiah 7:5-7
Any peace that leaves people behind—a peace that fails to love our neighbors or care for the vulnerable or the immigrant, is not the kind of peace the prophets declared. That kind of peace, and any recognition given for this so-called peace, is theological and political gaslighting.
This happens a lot in the time of the prophets. Isaiah 5:20 says it like this:
"Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter."
Be careful when people try to twist common decency. This has been happening since the days of Isaiah, which is a way of saying: this is not a new tactic, but a very, very old one.
Isaiah says it like this in 30:10
They say to the seers,
“See no more visions!”
and to the prophets,
“Give us no more visions of what is right!
Tell us pleasant things,
prophesy illusions.”
In other words, people didn't want to face the hard truth of how they were failing to create Shalom. So they told the prophets to just tell them everything was going to be alright. They wanted the prophets to tell them they were doing "good" when in reality they weren't. They wanted to be told “pleasant things” and to prophesy “illusions.”
Ultimately, this passage refuses to let us settle for comfortable illusions. It calls us to measure our leaders, our systems, and even ourselves against God’s vision of justice and peace—not the other way around. Isaiah reminds us that hope does not come from pretending everything is fine, but from naming what is broken and daring to believe it can be made right.
And once again, God chooses the most unlikely starting point: the fragile, world-changing promise carried in a child.
If we have ears to hear, this text still asks us the same question it asked its first hearers: will we accept a pleasant lie, or will we participate in the hard, holy work of bringing shalom to life?