God Wins

A sermon for the 23rd Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 28
November 16, 2025, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Isaiah 65:17-25; Canticle 9; 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13; Luke 21:5-19

For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating; for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight.

Those were the words of Isaiah today, prophesying a new world in the midst of destruction, hope in the midst of despair, life in the midst of death. The nation is destroyed, the captors have won, but none of that gets the last word, Isaiah says today. God gets the final word. Darkness and despair and violence and sin and evil do not win. God wins in the end–light and goodness and love win in the end. 

It can feel a little like whiplash to put this reading from Isaiah next to our reading from Luke. Isaiah is giving a word of hope; Jesus is telling of coming destruction. Isaiah says newness is coming; Jesus says the world is about to shake. Isaiah says tears will be wiped away; Jesus says tears are going to come. 

As opposite as they sound, the two readings go together. Isaiah is speaking in a time of destruction, promising the people that God will win out in the end. Jesus is preparing his followers for what is to come–a time of persecution and apocalypse. But he is also giving them the same hope that Isaiah is preaching. “Do not be terrified,” he says. Although the world shakes and things spin out of control and everything goes wrong, “do not be terrified.” Trust in God. Follow Christ. Hold on. 

Isaiah and Jesus were speaking to their specific times, to specific moments in history. Isaiah is speaking to those who are witnessing with their very eyes instability and political violence, the threat of captivity and enslavement, the destruction of their world in war and disaster. Jesus is speaking to his earthly followers, telling them of the persecutions of the early church just around the corner and the destruction of the holy city at the hands of the Romans in 70 AD. But their words echo with timelessness. Their words go beyond the specifics of those historical moments, and speak to every place and every time when violence overwhelms, when fear overtakes, when the dreadful portents of evil seem to win out. 

Their words speak to our own time, do they not? We see instability, the threat of war and violence, the terror of hunger and drought, the unquestioned dominance of power. Nation rises against nation. Famines and plagues crowd the headlines. All seems to be in the process of being thrown down, stone by stone–even the most unquestioned and unquestionable temples of our civilization. And such turmoil is reflected in our own lives–the presence of disease and death, the uncertainty of our futures and the futures of those who come after us, the sorrow of loss, the struggles for peace in a stormy world, for happiness in a despairing world. 

In the middle of all of this, can we hear the words of Jesus? “Do not be terrified.” “By your endurance you will gain your souls.” Persevere. Do not be afraid. Trust in God. Follow Christ. Hold on. In the middle of all of this, can we hear the words of God through the prophet Isaiah? “I am about to create a new heaven and a new earth.” “No more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress.” “They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain.” Do not be afraid. Trust in God. All of this is passing away and God will make it all new. Hold on.  

It is a bold act of faith to hold on during times such as ours. It is a bolder act of faith to proclaim that God will win out in the end–that this old world will wear out like a garment, and from the ashes God will usher in an unending Day of Peace. It is even bolder yet to live now, in the midst of so many messages to the contrary, as if that day has already come–to allow our lives, already transformed and marked by God’s grace, to be a prophetic sign of the newness that is to come. 

Are we bold enough to allow the promises of God to be written on our lives, like a scroll with the words of the prophet Isaiah? Are we bold enough to proclaim to the world, rocking and reeling: “Surely, it is God who saves me; I will trust in him and not be afraid”? Are we bold enough to proclaim that in the end, despite all claims to the contrary, despite what we see around us, God wins and will restore all? 

I remember seeing their photo on Facebook, the whole family gathered together. I only knew one of them, a friend of a friend who had passed through town for a few days and stayed with us. He was in the middle of the photo, to his grandmother’s right, surrounded by cousins. They were all dressed in bright flannel shirts and jeans. I remember they were smiling. They clearly loved one another so much.  

His caption for the photo was short. He had written, “We buried my granddaddy today. He had suffered for so long, but we know his disease does not win in the end, because Jesus Christ has risen from the dead. We know he is restored and held in the hand of God.” That’s why they were smiling. 

After the funeral reception, they had all gone down to the river. It was his grandfather’s favorite spot. The family had gone to that favorite fishing hole just to reminisce and hold each other close. It was a brisk fall day, so they had changed from their funeral blacks to their bright flannels. They gathered with their lawn chairs, some snacks, some drinks. They were laughing and having a good time. Then they noticed that this spot, so long their grandfather’s favorite, was in rather bad shape. Litter was everywhere. It was a far cry from Isaiah’s vision of the holy and restored mountain. So as they told memories, they picked up trash. It seemed fitting, like something granddaddy would want them to do. 

“Kind of an odd thing to do after a funeral,” I had texted him not too long after. “Not really,” he replied. It was a small act of defiance, he had said. A small act of rebellion against the forces of death and chaos that seem to overwhelm and make us weary of doing what is right. So for them, that day, each small piece of trash picked up, each memory shared, each shout of laughter–it all seemed like a faithful way of enduring in the face of sickness and death.He told me, “The world may fall apart–and I can’t do anything about that. But I can trust God, and that fishing hole is going to be clean, and my family is going to be together. And we’re just gonna hold on, together, until Christ comes again and we see my granddaddy completely healed and restored.” 

And as for me, I believe he’s right. I believe that they and all of us will see that day.  And I believe, with every fiber of my mortal frame, that all—every fracture and sorrow, every broken life, every stone thrown down by the powers of evil, sin, and death—all will be made new and whole and right.