“A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way; the unclean shall not travel on it, but it shall be for God’s people; no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray.”
-Isaiah 35:8

Oh, God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son.”
Abe said, “Man, you must be putting me on.”
God said, “No.” Abe say, “What?”
God say, “You can do what you want to, Abe, but
The next time you see me comin’, you better run.”
Well, Abe said, “Where d’you want this killin’ done?”
God said, “Out on Highway 61.”
-Bob Dylan, “Highway 61 Revisited”

Being the wanderer that I am, I’m a sucker for a highway song. And if you are an aficionado of pop music, you have plenty of songs to choose from besides Dylan’s classic interpretation of Genesis, set against a disorienting sense of Cold War angst.

Looking over the various Bible versions of Isaiah’s prophecy, there seems to be some confusion over whether or not fools are allowed on the Highway of Holiness. Being in that camp myself, I live in the faith that, like most epic road trips I’ve taken in my life, it’s not the traveler who defines the highway, but the highway that transforms those — fools included — who travel it.

Lord, help me to discern the path you have placed before me, and to pay attention to those who travel it with me. Your way may be rocky and hard at times, but the horizon always beckons brightly. Amen.
-Michael Boss

“The burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes.”
-Isaiah 35:7

This passage is part of a five-verse exhortation to choose joy.

There are so many instances when this seems to be an insurmountable task. A woman I know is struggling with a long-buried hurt. Even though she recently reached out to the person who caused her pain, and was offered forgiveness, she is unwilling to accept it and move into a new phase of her life. She just can’t let go.

Another dear friend of mine recently lost her husband of 25 years to an aggressive form of cancer. Throughout their marriage, her husband had weathered four different forms of cancer until his body gave out at age 64. Although my friend is grieving a year later (does one ever stop grieving altogether?), she is building her life again. Instead of wallowing in heartache, she is tentatively stepping out to travel, meeting new people, and experiencing new horizons and adventures. Just this last summer, she purchased a boat. The name? Joy.

Dear Lord, help us to dig for joy, even amidst our sorrow. It is then that the burning sands of our souls can transform into cool and refreshing pools filled with joy. Amen.

“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert…”
-Isaiah 35:5-6

What memories this passage evokes! I had sung Handel’s “Messiah” many times before, but this was the first time I was the alto soloist performing with an orchestra, and actually getting paid. We four soloists sat in front of the very large choir, I in my long black dress which I had purchased for the occasion. It was very exciting. These words of prophecy of the Savior’s actions sung in recitative are emblazoned in my heart and mind.

Each of the Gospels reports incidents of Jesus’ healing. Matthew 15 tells us of large crowds coming to him including the lame, crippled, blind, mute, and many others. Mark 10 relates the healing of the blind beggar named Bartimaeus. Luke 7 reports the blind receive sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear. John 9 relays the story of Jesus making clay with spittle, placing it on the blind man’s eyes, and telling him to go wash in the pool of Siloam. After Jesus’ death and resurrection, Acts 9 gives us the account of Paul’s sight being restored when Ananias’ laid hands on him.

Truly God wants us to be whole and restoration continues today. Sometimes we may even fail to see the miracles that occur through modern medicine and technology. God’s love surrounds us and the Holy Spirit works in a myriad of ways. Thanks be to God!

Thank you, God, for your healing and restoration of the world. Help us to always remember that we are recipients of and participants in that restoration. Amen.
-Cathey Frederick

“Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you.'”
-Isaiah 35:4

I HATE scary movies. My dad loved them and as a child, I sat on his lap watching through my fingers too many times. Even when a resolution was imminent—sometimes a blessed happy ending—those films were never finished quickly enough!

Advent is just a little like that for me. Though I know well the end of the tale—the happy ending of Christmas, if you will—it never arrives fast enough for my inner child. You know, “God, give me patience. NOW!” As I write this, we’re in Day 4 of the post-election in-between, and comparisons are inescapable: in torture we continue waiting, following an agonizing gestation, for the birth—we truly hope—of a new and real resolution, yet still incomplete in all likelihood. So much waiting! So much pain! And for what? More of the same?

But just as St. Francis prayed, where there is despair we can sow hope. The language of today’s passage is unequivocal, using only imperatives: BE strong. Here IS your God. He WILL come and save you. No ifs, ands, or buts. This is what hope looks like in writing. And hope is always a priceless gift!

We may choose to make way for the Messiah by sowing that hope. The annual recurrence of Advent gives us the opportunity not just to wait but with the intention to learn and master patience. There will always be pain in this earthly life, but as God’s beloved children we are afforded grace to persevere. We are called to compassion—to suffer with one another, dividing grief—just as Jesus took on the sins and suffering of the world. To hope is to not suffer alone.

It’s a lot to ask of us, human and imperfect. Can we really do all that? Yes! We can! With God’s help.
And we already know the ending.

God of strength and peace, help us to be strong and fearless, trusting in your promises. Amen.
-David Sloat

“Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees.”
-Isaiah 35:3

In a time of devastating pandemic, of political rancor so strong we can scarcely talk openly with each other, of pleas to respond to desperate needs and continuing iniquities that seem intractable, when strength is needed to bring a better time into being a more secure humanity, and an answer to the hopes of so many… Well, Isaiah seems to be talking about us, doesn’t he?

In these times God calls us to see our neighbors, our common humanity, and strengthen our weak hands, make firm our weak knees, and get on with it. Healing needs to be offered: can we offer it? Healing needs to be received: can we accept it?

Once years ago, foolishly working alone, I was repairing a leaky roof when the rain started. I slipped and fell off a roof. Broke some bones in my back. I couldn’t speak for several minutes. I was helpless. A newsboy delivering papers saw me fall and called the neighbor, who saw I was in bad shape, covered me with a blanket to head off shock and keep off the rain, and called my wife. There followed days of excellent hospital care, people stopping by to pray with me, generous support from the school where I taught. Those folks strengthened my weak hands (broken wrist bone) and made firm my shaky knees. Isaiah would have been gratified. I know I was.

Who hasn’t had difficult times, times when one’s shaky strength is not enough and one is grateful for the strength others lend us? And who hasn’t been called to offer strength to others?

O God, you have bound us together in a common life. Help us, in the midst of our struggles to work together with mutual forbearance and respect, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP p. 824)
-Tom Worrell