From Dan Roukema’s message, November 30, 2025
This Sunday’s text was Isaiah 2:1–5—but that passage only makes sense if we first hear the thunder of Isaiah 1. And rather unexpectedly, the whole thing began for me with a devotion about a blunt pencil.
Yes, a pencil.
The devotion talked about handwriting that becomes hard to read when the pencil is dull. It struck me immediately—because I have messy handwriting. I can read it if I wrote it earlier that day, but if it’s more than 24 hours old, forget it.
I once read an article claiming that messy handwriting is a sign of higher intelligence. I loved that idea…until I learned it isn’t based on anything. Handwriting has much more to do with fine motor skills, practice, fatigue, and speed. The myth persists because we imagine “smart people think faster than they write”—but in truth, everyone’s brain works faster than their hand.
Sometimes we write fast out of excitement or anxiety: “I need to get this thought down before I lose it.” Others write slowly because they trust the thought isn’t going anywhere. (Terrible people.)
The Apostle Paul once said that the church is a letter—God’s letter—written to the world. Which raises a question:
What happens when God’s letter becomes illegible?
Isaiah 1: When Worship Becomes Noise
Isaiah opens with a devastating diagnosis of God’s people:
“I reared children and brought them up,
but they have rebelled against me.” (1:2)
He calls them a nation “loaded with guilt” (1:4).
Their worship, offerings, and prayers have become unbearable:
“Stop bringing meaningless offerings.” (1:13)
“When you spread out your hands in prayer,
I will hide my eyes from you.” (1:15)
Why such harshness?
Because God’s people have separated worship from ethics.
They are singing on Sunday while crushing the vulnerable on Monday.
Isaiah says:
“Stop doing wrong.
Learn to do right.
Seek justice.
Encourage the oppressed.
Defend the fatherless.
Plead the case of the widow.” (1:16–17)
This is the heartbeat of the entire Bible.
Jesus won’t even separate loving God from loving neighbour.
John goes so far as to say that if you claim to love God but hate your brother, you’re lying.
When we ignore the vulnerable, our worship becomes noise.
The world looks at us—God’s letter—and can’t read anything that resembles Him.
So Isaiah leaves us asking:
If God’s own people are unreadable, what hope is left for the world?
Isaiah 2: A Vision Strong Enough to Save Us
Right at that moment—when despair could swallow the story—Isaiah receives a vision.
We all know what hope can do.
If you’re worried about your daughter, and you suddenly get a glimpse of her future—sitting at a table full of food, surrounded by love and safety—your heart steadies. The present is still hard, but the future sustains you.
Isaiah sees that kind of future.
Not just for one person, but for the world.
“In the last days, the mountain of the Lord’s temple
will be established as chief among the mountains…
and all nations will stream to it.” (2:2)
What Is Zion, Really?
Mount Zion was the physical hill in Jerusalem where the temple stood.
But for the prophets—and for Christian theology—Zion becomes a symbol:
Zion is the place where God is fully present, fully active, and fully made known.
In Isaiah’s vision, this “mountain” rises above everything else—not literally, but symbolically. It becomes visible, compelling, magnetic.
And the nations begin to stream toward it.
Here’s the humbling twist:
After describing all the nations moving toward God, Isaiah turns to Israel:
“O house of Jacob,
come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.” (2:5)
God’s chosen people aren’t in front of the line.
They join the line.
They walk with the nations toward the place where God is revealed.
God Makes Peace in a Way We Cannot
Isaiah’s vision continues:
“He will judge between the nations
and will settle disputes for many peoples.” (2:4)
Imagine God settling the conflict between Israel and Palestine.
Between Russia and Ukraine.
Between siblings who haven’t spoken in years.
Between old friends who carry decades of hurt.
Then Isaiah says:
“They will beat their swords into plowshares.”
“Nation will not take up sword against nation.”
“They will train for war no more.”
Weapons become tools for cultivation.
Violence gives way to flourishing.
This is the biblical vision of salvation.
Not just a rescued soul—but a healed creation.
Do We Actually Want the World Isaiah Describes?
Here’s the uncomfortable question Isaiah pushes on us:
Do we really want God to settle every dispute?
We love the idea of peace, but true peace demands surrender.
To receive the world Isaiah describes, we would have to surrender:
- our hard-won opinions
- our cherished judgments
- our political certainties
- our belief that “my side got this right”
And this is where The Matrix helps us out.
In the film, you can take the blue pill and stay in the comforting illusion.
Or you can take the red pill and wake up to reality—even if it hurts.
And the name of the real city, where truth is found and freedom begins?
Zion.
Isaiah asks us:
Will you take the red pill?
Will you let God judge—rather than insisting your own judgments define reality?
Because the world of peace Isaiah describes is only possible if God is the one determining what is right.
How Do We Enter That Future? (Advent’s Answer)
So how do we join the procession toward Zion?
How do we walk toward a world made right?
By fixing our eyes on the One at the front of the line—
the One holding the lantern—
the One who is the light.
Jesus.
Advent announces this truth:
We cannot write ourselves clearly.
God must write Himself into the world.
Jesus says:
“When I am lifted up, I will draw all people to myself.” (John 12:32)
He is talking about the cross.
The cross is the lantern Jesus holds.
It is the light that draws the nations.
It is the way to God.
And it is the way we become readable.
We show God to the world when we pick up our cross.
This is how the arms race ends.
This is how conflict heals.
This is how the church becomes a legible letter again.
Walking in the Light (Our Calling as the Church)
The theologian Walter Brueggemann notes something astonishing:
After God rebukes His people with the most severe language in Isaiah 1—
those same people become, in Isaiah 2, the seat of the world’s best possibility.
That’s grace.
Even with our imperfections.
Even when we hurt people despite our best intentions.
Even when we stumble.
Even when the church is messy and human and flawed.
God still calls us to get in line behind Jesus
and walk toward the world He is renewing.
So Isaiah’s invitation lands on us again:
“O house of Jacob,
come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.”
May we follow the One who holds the lantern—
and may His light make God’s character clear and legible in our lives
for the sake of a world longing for peace.
View the full message here.
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