There is a great deal of hope being invested in the new government. I guess there often is after a change of government, but this time it seems even greater than usual, and I wonder if it is setting us up for even greater disappointment than usual. However on-the-nose the previous government may have become, the new government is still made of elected politicians, most of whose stated views on most issues differ little from those of the previous government. And even where they do differ more significantly, it remains to be seen what the realities of office and opinion polls and the like will do to their best intentions. Election promises are remarkably fickle. The idea of “core promises” and “non-core promises” has entered our folklore as a standing joke. What the party promised yesterday does not necessarily have much bearing on what it will do tomorrow. We’ve become so used to it that we have become a bit cynical about it all. We know that they are not consistent, and that what we can expect from them is all a bit arbitrary.

 

I wonder, though, whether we have a tendency to transfer this onto God. Perhaps we start to think that God is a bit like that too; that God might weigh the odds on any decision, so that sometimes one principle is set aside, and sometimes another, and we can’t be too sure whether God is for us or against us at any given moment. Perhaps God, too, makes campaign promises, but when the rubber hits the road, it’s all up for grabs and no-one can really be too sure where they stand. And perhaps too, God is a bit like those politicians who come and knock on our doors and shake our hands in the streets and want to be our best mates when there is an election looming, but once its over, they never come near us again and vanish into the corridors of power, remote and inaccessible, ruling over us from a distance. Was Jesus just a campaign promise, and now God has gone back to being a distant ruler who occasionally and randomly smites an evil-doer, and even more occasionally and randomly shows love and mercy to the likes of us?

 

Well, I’m here to to say, “No” to that question. God is not like the politicians. But I guess I’m going to have to say a bit more than just “no” to make the case. Of course, I can’t prove it. No one can ever prove such things. But I can bear witness to what I have found to be true, and I can bring you the testimony of others who have found God to be steadfast and true and unchanging in the expression of his love, mercy, faithfulness, and justice.

 

 

Isaiah too, in the reading we heard from his writings, assures us that God can be trusted to be true when he comes to us. He says that the Christ will not make arbitrary judgements based on appearances or hearsay. His judgements will be righteous and equitable, and characterised by unswerving faithfulness. And on the basis of that assurance, he describes a wonderful vision of the world to come, the world grounded in God’s steadfast love and mercy, the world where the wolf will lie down with the lamb, and children will play with snakes and not be harmed, and, as Robbie reminds us regularly, “the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”

 

These assurances are important for us, as we focus our attention on the coming Christ during this season of Advent. For the question we cannot avoid is “who is the God who come to us?”. What can we expect from the God who comes? Should we be filled with dread, or filled with hope? The preaching of John the Baptiser might well give us cause for some anxiety here. John’s preaching was fiery and passionate and had more than a hint of holy anger about it. He was not averse to talking about a God who comes with a winnowing fork and a raging fire to sort out the wheat from the chaff. And it is not hard, in the face of such a message, to begin to think that the God of whom he speaks must be a God who can turn unpredictably. One moment he is all love and mercy and wolves lying down with lambs, and the next moment, he is all fire and judgement and taking the axe to the root of the tree. That wouldn’t give us much grounds for confidence. If our hope is nothing more than “I hope he’ll be in a good mood when he gets to me”, then it is not much more than wishful thinking.

 

But when we look closer, and perhaps past the easy stereotypes, John’s preaching does not point to a fickle and erratic God at all. Perhaps it is true that John has more to say about God’s justice than about God’s love, but God’s justice and love are utterly consistent with one another and there is nothing in what John says that suggests otherwise. Sure John has some fierce words and warnings for the Pharisees and Sadducees, as did Jesus later on, but his call to them is no different from his call to anyone else. In fact, that is the point. They were expecting that they might be treated differently because, as descendants of Abraham and members of devout religious groups, they thought they had the inside running with God. They thought it was God’s love for them and God’s justice for everyone else. But John bellows, “No, you slippery snakes!” God’s love and justice are one and the same. God’s mercy is for all, insiders and outsiders, the religiously polished and the rough and ready, and God’s love looks for the same practical response from everybody - that we become mirrors of his all-inclusive love, striving for mercy and justice and freedom for all, no exceptions, no favourites.

 

The fiery justice of God is an outworking of the fiery love of God. It comes to save us, to consume everything that is unworthy of us, everything that would hold us back from the glorious destiny for which we were created. And yes, having a malignant tumour burned away may be frightening and it may hurt, but there would be nothing loving about a God who would withhold it from us. God desires always and only what is best for us, what will free us to embrace the glory of being the beloved image-bearers of God.

 

The God whose coming we anticipate is the God made known to us in Jesus. Those who were broken and downtrodden and despairing knew themselves immediately welcomed and beloved in the presence of Jesus. They instantly knew they were in the presence of utterly steadfast love and mercy and forgiveness. They flocked to him, because in his presence they felt safe and special and filled with hope. It will be no different when we encounter the coming Christ in the future. He will be the same, for he is and was and is to come, one God, unchanging and utterly faithful to himself, and to us. You need have no fear that somehow that love and acceptance had no more weight than a campaign promise. The one who offered his life for you continues to offer his life for you, and will go on offering his life for you. The coming one who will make all things new comes to us even now, offering his life for us, and to us. As we gather around this table, gather in hope, for the love made known in Jesus of Nazareth, the love made known on the cross, is made known here among us. God comes to us, and will come to us, placing his life in our hands, that we may be cleansed and purified and set free for the abundant life for which we were created. As the Apostle said, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”