Climb the Mountain of the Lord

Isaiah 2:1-5

1 This is what Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem:

2 In the last days

the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established
    as the highest of the mountains;
it will be exalted above the hills,
    and all nations will stream to it.

3 Many peoples will come and say,

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
    to the temple of the God of Jacob.
He will teach us his ways,
    so that we may walk in his paths.”
The law will go out from Zion,
    the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
4 He will judge between the nations
    and will settle disputes for many peoples.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
    and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
    nor will they train for war anymore.

5 Come, descendants of Jacob,
    let us walk in the light of the Lord.

Climb the Mountain of the Lord

I get to talk about one of my favourite things today – mountains. If I asked you to name a mountain, what is one of the first that would come to mind?

Maybe you think of Everest or K2 in the Himalayas. Maybe you think of more exotic mountains, like Fuji or Kilimanjaro. Maybe for you it’s more local; we have world-class mountains in our backyard, like Robson and Rundle.

Have you ever heard of Mt. Moriah? Mt. Moriah is the mountain that Isaiah talks about in chapter 2. It has been a minute since we read those words. Allow me to read them to you again:

This is what Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem: In the last days the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established as the highest of the mountains; it will be exalted above the hills, and all nations will stream to it.[1]

That is high praise for the mountain of the Lord’s temple. But here’s the thing: compared to all those other mountains we mentioned, Mt. Moriah is kind of unimpressive. Let me put it into context for you:

Mount Everest is, of course, the tallest mountain in the world. It stands at an elevation just north of 29,000ft above sea level. Mt. Moriah has an elevation of only about 2,100ft. Mount Everest is more than 10x the size of Mt. Moriah!

You’ve probably never been to Mount Everest, though. How many of you have been to Banff? Mount Rundle – the big mountain, right outside the townsite – has an elevation of 9,600ft. That’s still more than 4x the size of Mt. Moriah!

Tunnel Mountain – the small hill next to the townsite of Banff – has an elevation of 5,500ft. That’s still more than 2x the size of Mt. Moriah.

Mt. Moriah, in Judah, in Israel, has no business being mentioned in the same breath as any of these other mountains! It would take some serious tectonic shifts to drastically alter the face of the planet for Mt. Moriah to be the highest of the mountains on earth. And yet, Mt. Moriah really is the “chief of the mountains” not because of its elevation, but because of all the things that happened there.

The first time we hear about Moriah is all the way back in Genesis 22, about 2,000 years before Christ:

Then God said [to Abraham], “Take your son, your only son, whom you love – Isaac – and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you.”[2]

Mt. Moriah is the place where God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his son, his only son, whom he loved, and amazingly Abraham was willing to do it! He obeyed God’s command. He traveled for three days to get to that mountain. He built an altar. He bound his son, and he got so far as to lift the knife to take his son’s life, before God intervened and supplied a substitute sacrifice – a ram to be offered in Isaac’s place.

Not only did Abraham demonstrate his complete commitment to and faith in God, God demonstrated his grace and compassion and love to Abraham and Isaac. Isaac was as good as dead, but God intervened to save his life and to foreshadow a similar future sacrifice.

Fast forward 1,000 years. King David had disobeyed God and aroused his anger, so much so that God sent the angel of death to plague the Israelites with a deadly disease for 3 days. In just 3 days, seventy thousand people died until the angel of death reached Mt. Moriah. There – in the same place where God spared Isaac – God showed mercy again. He relented from his anger and withdrew the angel of death and directed David to build an altar in the same place that Abraham did. And from that day on, David set his sight on that site as the location for the future temple of the Lord.

David didn’t end up building that temple. His son Solomon did. But when that temple was dedicated, the physical presence of God in the form of a pillar of fire and cloud came to rest in that temple on that mountain and it became the permanent residence of the physical presence of God on earth. The temple was the place where sacrifices were made for the sins of the people every day, where God announced his grace to generations of sinners, where people made pilgrimages for 1,000 years.

On Mt. Moriah – the mountain of the Lord – Abraham built an altar. David built an altar. Solomon built a temple. On Mt. Moriah – the mountain of the Lord – God saved Isaac, God spared Israel, God accepted the sacrifices of millions. All three of those historical events would be enough to raise Mt. Moriah’s profile above so many other taller mountains where not nearly as many important events took place.

But there was one more event that would take place in that same place that would spring Mt. Moriah’s profile into the stratosphere, and we read about it – or at least the beginning of it – in our Gospel for today. Just like generations of believers before him, Jesus made his annual pilgrimage to the temple in Jerusalem. He did exactly what the people in Isaiah’s prophecy said:

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the temple of the God of Jacob.”[3]

On Palm Sunday, Jesus climbed that mountain for the last time. He went there for the same reason that Isaac did 2,000 years earlier – to be sacrificed by his father – only in Jesus’ case there wouldn’t be any last second substitution. Jesus was the substitute for you and me. For sinners like us of every time and place who deserved to die for our disobedience, Jesus died instead. And when he died there, he didn’t just spare Jerusalem or Judea. His death gave life to the whole world. His sacrifice was complete. No more animals would ever have to be slain in Solomon’s temple for sins to be forgiven. Jesus’ sacrifice was all that was necessary, once for all. So that all could live in peace.

Isaiah prophesied about that peace. He said:

They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.[4]

Sounds pretty dreamy, doesn’t it? You know that war going on in Ukraine? What if all those tanks were decommissioned and buried in the ground and converted into root cellars? What if all those rifles were turned into rakes and all those guns into gardening tools? So many prayers would be answered! So many people would be safe! Even our lives half a world a way would be so much better financially and emotionally.

That kind of peace sounds pretty dreamy, doesn’t it? That’s the kind of peace that Jesus came to bring – only his peace would be even better. It would be the kind of peace that Paul says “transcends all understanding.”[5] It was the kind of peace that the angels announced at the first Christmas, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”[6]

Peace is what Jesus came to bring, but not a peace between nations. He didn’t come with armies of angels to assert his authority. He climbed the mountain of the Lord on a donkey. He didn’t come to impose sanctions until he bent the nations of this world to his will. He came to make a sacrifice to save sinners like you and me. The peace that we need most is not a peace between nations; it’s a peace between people – sinners – and God.

You know, sometimes in the season of Advent we like to pretend as if we are the people Isaiah was writing to. We try to scrub our brains of the memory of Jesus’ birth and relive the excitement again. There’s something to that. I think there’s value in understanding what Jesus’ birth meant in the moment. But that’s not what Advent is about for you and me.

Jesus is still coming. He came once and when he did he raised the profile of Mt. Moriah above all the other impressive mountains of this world by dying there and securing salvation for every believer everywhere who puts his trust in Jesus.

But for us, the season of Advent is a reminder that Jesus will come again. And Isaiah tells us what he’ll do:

He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many people.[7]

Then they’ll beat their swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks. Then he will usher in an unprecedented peace.

The sad thing about this promise is that until Jesus comes again, war will continue, blood will still be shed. But the amazing thing about this promise is that in the meantime we can still climb the mountain of the Lord – even if we never book a trip to Israel – and we can still go up to the temple of the God of Jacob – even though it was torn down centuries ago and was never rebuilt. We can still learn his ways and walk in his paths, because the mountain of the Lord’s temple is wherever his Word is.

For an hour on a Sunday this is where we join in with those Palm Sunday worshipers and praise Jesus’ name as he climbs Mt. Moriah for the last time. While you’re eating cereal at the breakfast table, you can be reading about the sacrifice that Jesus made for you on the cross. On your drive to school or work you can be listening to the promises he makes of absolute justice and abiding peace that transcends all understanding. You are the living fulfillment of this prophecy; whenever you instruct your children to come to church or invite a friend to join you for worship, you are saying to them,

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the temple of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.”[8]

Jesus already came once as our Saviour at Christmas to make peace between us and our God, to forgive our sin and to give us the certain hope of heaven. Jesus is coming again, this time as King to put an end to all evil and sin, and to usher you into the kingdom he has prepared for you. Until that day, “Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.”[9] Amen.

[1] Isaiah 2:1,2

[2] Genesis 22:2

[3] Isaiah 2:3

[4] Isaiah 2:4

[5] Philippians 4:7

[6] Luke 2:14

[7] Isaiah 2:4

[8] Isaiah 2:3

[9] Isaiah 2:5

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Better than Heroes

Hebrews 11:32-40

32 And what more shall I say? I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samson, and Jephthah, about David and Samuel and the prophets, 33 who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, 34 quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies. 35 Women received back their dead, raised to life again. There were others who were tortured, refusing to be released so that they might gain an even better resurrection. 36 Some faced jeers and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. 37 They were put to death by stoning; they were sawed in two; they were killed by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated— 38 the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, living in caves and in holes in the ground.

39 These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised, 40 since God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

Better than Heroes

Hebrews 11 is often referred to as the “Hall of Faith.” There we read a litany of legends the likes of which seemingly haven’t been seen on earth since the time of Christ himself. Prior to our text for today, the writer to the Hebrews writes at least a paragraph on Abel and Enoch and Noah, on Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Joseph, Moses and Rahab – all pillars of faith, people who beyond all hope believed, people whose stories continue to be inspirational to Christians to this day.

And you can tell that the writer to the Hebrews wants to go on. He just doesn’t have the time. So, he contents himself just with mentioning their names: Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel.

Gideon was the one who defeated the Midianite army with a measly 300 men.

Barak willingly went to war against the Canaanites knowing that he wouldn’t get any credit or honor from his victory, that all the glory would rightfully go to God alone.

Samson understood his role as an instrument in God’s hands against the Philistines and used the supernatural strength that could have only come from God to defeat them time after time.

Jephthah answered the call to command the Israelite army against the Ammonites and devastated them.

David – goodness – where do we even begin? With Goliath? With his military victories? Or musical prowess? Or his devotion to build a temple to the Lord? There are so many to choose from…

And Samuel, he’s the one who rallied the shattered morale of the people of Israel, won back the ark of the covenant after it had been captured, and restored the people to faithful worship of the one and only God.

And these are just the people that the writer to the Hebrews mentions by name. There are all these other anonymous references in here that make us think about Joshua and Solomon and Daniel and Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, of Elijah and Esther, the widow of Zarephath, Jeremiah and Isaiah, James the brother of John, Ezekiel. The list could go on and on.

Surely these people deserve to be in the “Hall of Faith.” Surely these people deserve our recognition and praise. If anyone has earned rest from their labours, if anyone deserves recovery in the halls of heaven for what they endured on earth in the name of Jesus, it is these people.

Then again, if you’re a Lutheran like me, maybe that little red flag pops up in your brain when you hear words like “earn” or “deserve.” I would never discount the idea that all these people are more than deserving of our recognition and a place in God’s “Hall of Faith,” but the truth is that no one is deserving of heaven – not even “heroes” like them.

I could go through that whole list again and share an entire series of their shortfalls and sins:

Gideon was convinced that God had abandoned his people.

Barak neglected his responsibilities as leader of the people.

Samson was a womanizer and a serial adulterer.

Jephthah made a foolish vow that put his daughter’s life in jeopardy.

David committed adultery and murder in the same family.

Samuel was a bad dad whose sons nearly ruined all of God’s credibility among the people.

Each of the bronze busts in the “Hall of Faith” certainly earned their spot there, but none of them were spotless in life and none of them earned their place in heaven after death by anything that they did on earth. And I think that’s really important for us to understand when we think about every believer who has died and gone to heaven – whether that’s a “Hero of Faith” from the pages of Scripture, or your own personal hero who preceded you in death. They are certainly worthy of our recognition and remembrance. They certainly earned a place in our hearts forever, but none of them earned their place in heaven or in God’s good graces, even with all the good things that they did do in life.

As hard as it is to imagine living up to their standard – to hold onto your faith in the face of certain death, to act according to God’s will when the chances of success seem impossible, to earn a spot in the timeless “Hall of Faith” – as hard as it is to imagine living up to their standard, none of these people are superhuman. They were sinful humans – just like.

Gideon wasn’t a great man until God called him. Samson would have been a thug had God not chosen him. Barak, a scaredy-cat. Jephthah, the fool. David, a disgrace.

Where would your name fit in? How does your faith falter? Is it pride? Or doubt? Pettiness? Or self-indulgence? Apathy? Or anger? A strong will with a weak heart? Or a strong heart with a weak will?

We can look at a list like this and feel unworthy to have our names listed next to theirs. But do you know what is amazing? Verse 40:

God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.[1]

None of the people who have bronze busts in the “Hall of Faith” are superhuman; they’re sinful humans, just like us. What makes their stories so inspirational is where they got their faith from and who they put their faith in. In other words – like everything – it’s all about Jesus.

If we thought that it was hard to live up to the likes of Daniel and Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, imagine how hard it is for them to imagine living up to the likes of Jesus. We could pick out any of these “heroes of faith” and point out all kinds of sin that they struggled with. But not Jesus. He was able to do something that none of these heroes ever could.

Jesus was perfect from the beginning. He was the only one who ever lived a life, not only worthy of recognition and remembrance, but a life that was actually, truly worthy of heaven itself. Jesus was the only one who possessed power in himself that was strong enough to do the right thing at the right time for the right reasons all the time without fail. Jesus was the only one who had no business sniffing, let alone suffering, death. But what did Jesus do?

He set aside his power and put his life in the hands of his enemies. He gave up his rights to recognition and praise, not to mention a fair trial and life itself. He made himself weak and vulnerable, a man of suffering and familiar with pain;[2] he sacrificed his perfect life on a cross so that a sinner like you could live in forgiveness and peace.

And all of this because God loves you. All of this purely out of his grace. David and Daniel didn’t deserve God’s love. Elijah and Ezekiel didn’t earn their place in heaven. God gives those things to all of us sinners as a gift, freely, without strings attached or standards to reach because he loves you. And you don’t have to be a Samson or Samuel to be loved by God. You just have to be you.

As great as these heroes of faith are, God planned something even better for you. None of them received what had been promised. They all died still waiting for something that you and I get to enjoy every day – the knowledge of the fulfillment of God’s grand plan of salvation through the life, death and resurrection of our Saviour Jesus Christ.

You don’t have to wonder. You don’t even have to hope. You know what God has done for you. That’s a gift that not even Solomon in all his wisdom was ever able to grasp or imagine.

God planned something for you that was even better than anything that all those bronze busts ever knew. He gave you the fulfillment of the promise he made to them. He gave you Jesus to call by name and to know by heart. He gave you Jesus to give you confidence for the present and hope for the future. He gave you Jesus to remember every day of your life stretching into eternity.

But that’s not all God gave you. God also gave you all those saints who have gone before you – both these heroes of faith from Bible history, but also all those heroes of faith from your personal life, whether that was your grandma or grandpa, a parent or spouse, a sibling or child who preceded you in death, but who because of their faith in Jesus are now living with him in heaven. He gave them to you as an inspiration to imitate, but, much more, as an example of his grace.

God loves and forgives sinners, just like you. He empowers and emboldens believers who struggle, just like you. He rewards you with relief and release in heaven, not because of who you are or what you do, but because of he is and what he has done for you.

Now, we may never – and may we never – be stretched on a rack, sawed in two, or stoned to death. But we may always – and may we always – put our faith in our true hero, our Saviour Jesus, who alone gives us confidence in the resurrection and who alone is our hope for heaven and there a reunion with all the saints who have gone before us – inspirations for us to imitate, examples of his grace. Amen.

[1] Hebrews 11:40

[2] Isaiah 53:3

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