Isaiah 62: 1-5

Fred Craddock told the story of a time he and his wife were having dinner at a restaurant in Tennessee, when an old man started talking to them, asking them how they were doing and if they were enjoying their visit. When the old man asked Dr. Craddock what he did for a living, Dr. Craddock told the older gentleman that he was a Christian minister; and the old man said, “I owe a great deal to a minister of the Christian church.” The old man sat down at their table and started to explain that he was born without knowing who his father was; and at the time when he was growing up in the early twentieth century, not knowing who his father was made him feel a great deal of shame. One day, in his early teens, he began to attend a little church back in the mountains; and for some reason, he really liked the pastor so much that he decided to go back again, and then again. In fact, he started attending just about every week. But his shame went with him every time he went. This poor little boy would always arrive late and leave early in order to avoid talking to anyone. But one Sunday, before he could get out, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see the preacher, a big tall man, looking down at him. He thought he knew what the preacher was thinking, and that he was probably going to ask whose son he was. But before he could say anything the preacher told him that he knew he was. “You’re a child of God,” the preacher said. “I see a striking resemblance. Now go claim your inheritance.” Fred Craddock was so moved by the story that he had to ask the old man his name. “Ben Hooper,” and Fred Craddock recognized him as the two-term governor of Tennessee...

On my desk right now is an indescribably elaborate invitation to a wedding. “Mr. and Mrs. Jones and Mr. and Mrs. Smith (obviously not real names) invite you to the wedding of their children at the wedding chapel on June 15.” No expense was spared in these parents’ efforts to make this wedding a glorious event. In the Gospel of Jesus Christ, foreshadowed in our text, God announces to his estranged wife that he will spare no expense in his effort to renew their relationship. It is not so much an elaborate invitation to a wedding. It is an eloquent announcement of God’s firm intention to renew our covenantal vows and start over again, and again, until the glory finally shines out into the world...

Philip Wogaman is a professor of ethics and the former dean of Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, D.C. I read least week that, following the earthquake, he began class with this question: 'What is the central theme of the Bible?'[1] The students responded the ways most of us would, I think: love, forgiveness, salvation. We could think of more along this line. The one answer he did not receive was the word hope. So he lectured on hope as the message of the resurrection. It is the biblical message declaring there is always a new day on its way. It is the message that no matter how tragic life may be, the possibilities for new beginnings are woven into the darkest of times; which does not discount the severity of Haiti’s present agony. What it does mean is that in the midst of even horrible circumstances there still exists the possibility for new beginning. A death toll that, by some forecasts, ultimately could be as high as 500,000 people may be too much for us to comprehend usefully. But factor each death down to one individual, each becomes a unique person who no longer lives among us. It is one person who will never enjoy living into his or her twilight years or have children or dream dreams of achievement. And in all this there will always be the question: “Why did God allow this to happen?”...