There’s no question that God wants to be known, though He will not force anyone to acknowledge Him, until the day He does.  Until then, He speaks His Word, opening ears and hearts.  O, “to know the Word that sustains the weary” (50:4)!  God’s Word—our light, our water, our bread, our wine, our life.  We labor by the sweat of our brows, contending with the thorns and thistles: sickness, sorrow, difficulty, doubt . . . the list goes on.  The Word that sustains the weary.  Our confidence.  The joy of the Lord is our strength.  The Word of God is the joy of the Lord.  God takes joy in His Word: His gift to us to sustain and give us hope.  He wants to lead us to His peace.  To have that peace, we must persevere through the wilderness of this life.  Along the way, we catch glimpses, receive visions, moments, blessings of God’s promised peace, because we have God’s joy with us, Jesus Christ; we have God’s joy in us, the Holy Spirit.

God’s Word instructs us, and we awaken to this disciple’s life ready to speak.  What are we ready to speak?  God’s love.  God’s grace.  God’s glory.  Compassion.  To whom are we to speak?  Others, certainly, and also to ourselves, when we feel the thistles, when the thorns begin to tear at our hands and arms, our legs and feet.  God provides.  He gives us tongues to speak His word and sing His praises, to pray, fervently and often.  We know the Word that sustains us.  He awakens our ears to instruct us in the way we should go.  He chose us to listen.

Jesus came to Jerusalem at last.  I almost said for the last time, though it isn’t the last time.  That day has not yet come.  Now cast your thoughts even further back, some six hundred years before that green parade in the warm sunlight.  Isaiah has been given a vision in what I read to you.  He sings of a servant to come, who will suffer, grievously, for the sake of the people.  He will suffer that they may celebrate.  What God says to this servant, the servant will say to the people.  He will not speak his own words, will not speak anything other than what the Father tells him.  His testimony will be faithful and true, complete and perfect.  The servant who suffers for the sake of the people will suffer grievously at the hands of the people.  He knows this, yet does not turn away from his call, his mission, his testimony.  His testimony is his life.  He lives for his testimony and there is life in his testimony.

“I have not been rebellious, / I have not turned away.  I offered my back to those who beat me, / my cheeks to those who pulled out my beard; / I did not hide my face / from mocking and spitting” (50:5-6).  That’s hard to hear, hard for me to hear, because who beat this one, and who spat in his face and mocked him?  The Romans?  They did, too, after.  First, though, the people of God.  Jesus takes a beating at the hands of the people of God.  We’re so far removed from those events, feel so far removed, that we can barely imagine, but people are straying, even today, even among the people of God.  And what is their straying, if not spitting in the face of Jesus, mocking him, beating him?  So dramatic!  Come on!  Beloved, Christ did not suffer and die because of the obedience of God’s people.  Haven’t you ever spit in the face of Jesus?  I have.  He didn’t even turn away.

It seemed as if everything had been taken from him, the one for whom, as it seemed, only a few days before, everything had been given: a huge, happy parade, honor, excitement, acclamation, rejoicing like after the Red Sea had come together over the Egyptians, like after the ark came to the promised side of Jordan.  Deliverance.  Hosanna!  Lord, save us, please!  People know they need salvation, even if they’re not just sure where to get it or how, even if they don’t call it that: salvation.  We know we need salvation—a change, release, relief; we just want it on our terms, or at least negotiable.  The terms of salvation are non-negotiable.  Father, if it be possible.  Yet, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.  Thy will be done, Thy kingdom come.  The king had come.  They spit in his face and beat his bowed back.

He bore it all.  Some think of Jesus as weak, not much of a man: no callouses, no scars.  What is strength?  Beloved, is it this way for you, too?  Strength is the ability to bear it.  Endurance.  Perseverance—we might also call it patience.  The Bible also calls it meekness.  I never have liked that word.  That strength to bear it comes from God.  It is holy, a reminder, a vision of the glory.  Amazing grace!  “Because the Sovereign Lord helps me, / I will not be disgraced. / Therefore have I set my face like flint, / and I know I will not be put to shame” (50:7).  A face like flint.  Set for endurance.  Fixed upon the goal, now in sight.  You know, the goal was never so near as when the suffering began.  Isn’t that strange?  More than strange, isn’t it holy?  Suffering brings the goal into clearer view?  How is that possible?  Only by the Spirit.  Only by grace.  There is no disgrace or shame in what we bear for the sake of Christ; bear it all, in the name of Christ, and you will know his name.  Oh, he is near, near, when we’re most sensible of our cross.

Like you, I’ve had my episodes of suffering; they haven’t been fun; I wouldn’t wish them on anybody.  I can and do wish, though, that everyone might have spiritual insights and blessings as God opened through those hard, harrowing times: some unexpected blessing after, even out of the hurt.  “I know I will not be put to shame” because like you I know I am living for truth and reality.  I can’t cause you to see it, feel it, or know it.  God can, because He has done and is doing the same for you.  He does that for His people.  The Sovereign Lord helps us, here, now.

“He who vindicates me is near” (50:8).  My vindicator.  The one who claims us and, claiming us, sets us free.  God is my strong salvation.  My shepherd supplies all my need.  Salvation is closer to us now.  But such a vindication!  We haven’t gotten to Good Friday yet, this calendar year, but we’ve been there, many times.  In a mystical sense, Jesus was always there.  He always saw it, knew it; he was always going there to bring us here, to him, and to take us where he now is, in the presence of his Father, our Father.

We sometimes lose confidence.  It’s not hard.  We hear the accusations and know they are true.  We’re not being accused of anything we haven’t done.  Oh, we’ve done quite enough, already.  Our hope, our faith, is that “It is the Sovereign Lord who helps me. / Who will condemn me” (50:9)?  Who is in a position to condemn?  Only Christ, and Christ died for us, rose for us, reigns for us.  Christ prays for us.  Christ did not come among us to condemn, and Christ is not alive within us to condemn.  He is alive within us to enable and empower us to walk the way of obedience, a way that seems hard, hurtful, and all too lonely, some days, until we remember Christ beside us, getting his bloodied shoulder under our burden, too, wrapping his torn arm around our back, helping us to bear up, to keep walking.  He’s bleeding.  He’s sweating.  He’s also smiling, beloved, because we’re in this together.  He’s going to get us through.

We never seek suffering, not even for the sake of Christ.  When it comes because of Christ, as it will and must in this world, don’t be ashamed.  Be resolute, face set like flint to keep moving forward, be the steps never so slow, so difficult.

The thing about Sundays is that they aren’t Fridays.  Everything seemed easy, that day of green waving palms in the brilliant, clear light, under the wide blue sky.  The followers loved it!  This was what victory looked like, felt like!  But it wasn’t, was it?  We’re told what victory looked like.  We’d rather not look, but salvation is in seeing.  Amazing grace.

Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!