In the late 1800's the head of the U.S. Patent Office recommended closing the agency. He was sure that by that point everything that could be invented had been. There was nothing left for people to do but enjoy the good life of 1898 because it couldn't possibly get any better.

Fifty years ago nuclear power was expected to make electricity too cheap to meter. We wouldn't have to shovel snow. We'd have electrically heated streets and sidewalks.

Forty years ago there was serious concern that mechanization would make it possible for the average person to earn a living working just twenty hours a week. By the year 2000 we'd have so much leisure time we'd be bored.

Five years ago people were saying - with straight faces - that the stock market would never again go down. There was this "new economy" involving the internet that would make every man, woman, and child and most household pets multi-millionaires by - the day after tomorrow.

Two years ago today we were discussing dimpled and dangling chads. They were still counting votes in Florida, and we were wondering who would be President.

One year ago we learned it was still possible to lose money in the stock market. We were in a shadowy war against terrorism and wondering if it was safe to let children open Christmas cards that came in the mail. The Vice President was reportedly in a "secure and undisclosed location."

Today we are still in a shadowy war against terrorism with no end in sight. Our nation is on the brink of war with Iraq. The unemployment rate is the highest it's been in nine years. On the bright side, DVD players are the hottest selling electronic devices of all time. Coincidence? I don't think so. It is cool technology, and a lot of people yearn for their own personal "secure and undisclosed location." Without a bunker in West Virginia to retreat to, a couple of hours in front of the TV will have to do. French philosopher Paul Valery could have been describing the year 2002 when he said, "The trouble with our times is that the future is not what it used to be."

The future certainly looked bleak to the people of Israel. The good times were over. The bubble had burst. It sure had been great for a while. A small minority accumulated vast wealth. The army came home victorious. Kings cleverly played off potential enemies against each other. The it all went terribly wrong. Invaders seized their wealth and land. Most of the people were carted off into exile. The few who remained, defeated and discouraged, faced a barren future. If ever people wanted to hunker in a bunker in some secure and undisclosed location, they did.

Then the word of the Lord came to Isaiah: "Comfort, comfort my people, says your God." What follows is not a promise of a quick return to the good old days, which is just as well. The old days weren't all that good. The rich and powerful became rich and powerful by taking advantage of ordinary people, practicing extortion, shady dealing, rigging the system, and generally ignoring the standards of justice and compassion. Twenty-six hundred years before there was Enron there was the same thing, and the Lord was none too pleased.

The word of comfort was that the worst was over. Their "warfare is ended." Their "iniquity is pardoned." The people might have been hoping for a safe place to hide out from foreign invaders and God. What they got was forgiveness, which is where all spiritual rebuilding projects start. That's what brought people out to the Jordan to be baptized by John. They weren't baptized so that God would forgive them. They received the good news that they were already forgiven. Then they were free to admit their wrongs and change. It seems backward, but there's a logic to it. If we believe we'll be condemned for our past why change? If reproach is all we can look forward to we won't admit to ourselves, much less God, that anything needs changing. It's only when we know we are forgiven that we admit we need to be forgiven. God takes the initiative, wipes the slate clean, and sets us free to start again. Baptism is a sign and symbol of that new beginning.

The first word of the Lord to Israel was forgiveness. The second was a call to action. There'll be no secure and undisclosed location for them. They will not find comfort sinking into a soft couch, with or without a DVD player.
"A voice cries:

'In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord. Make straight in the desert a highway for our God.'"

We're not talking about the Inter County Connector here. This wilderness won't be found on any map, but we all know the territory. It is the land of grief and loss, the domain of fear and loneliness, the region of failure and defeat. The wilderness is that stretch of life where we most want to hide out, withdraw, and retreat. It's in the harshest, most difficult times you and I are called to build a highway, not so that we can get out but so the Lord can get in.

The obvious place to begin is with the discipline of prayer. Many people have the impression prayer requires a special kind of language and a certain degree of eloquence. Actually there's only one way to get prayer wrong and that is not to pray at all. The most useful prayer I know consists of three words: "God help me." Other useful prayers are "God help him, her, them," and "Thanks, God." God help me. God help someone else. Thanks. If you've got those three down you've got the primary colors.

The trouble we all have with prayer is we forget to pray. At least I do. In the rush of events or the demands of an ordinary day there isn't always an obvious point at which I think it might be good to ask God for help or say thanks. That is why all religious traditions I know about put prayer on a schedule: morning and evening, before each meal, five times a day. It seems mechanical, and it is. The virtue of making prayer a routine part of our lives whether we need it or not is that it's there when we do need it.

This Advent season we might put prayer on our daily list of things to do. Keep it simple. Keep at it. See what happens. If nothing much seems to happen, keep at it. It takes time to build a highway.

We might also prepare the way of the Lord by repairing and extending the pathways among us. Our culture honors the rugged individual. Keeping the faith from the discouraged survivors in Isaiah's time to Jesus and the twelve to us here today requires a group. We can not be faithful in isolation. This is why coffee hour after worship is important and the Christmas party tonight and the spaghetti dinner next Sunday and all the occasions throughout the year when we gather, tell stories, and listen are important. Have you ever been inspired by another member of the church? Have you ever been challenged to think and act in a new way? Have you ever received more acceptance and care from another Christian than you expected or thought you deserved? As we draw near to each other God draws near to us.

We can also build a highway for our God by building roads to others God is trying to reach. They call it a "peace community." It's a dusty settlement on the edge of a city. Two hundred and fifty families live there in shacks made of sticks and plastic, cardboard and tin found in the city dump. They stand for hours at a single tap, waiting to collect their family's dribble of water for the day. They are "desplazados," people displaced by the terror that has wracked Columbia for 30 years.

In the midst of this barren stretch of wilderness is Church World Service, providing a safe haven, teaching new skills, developing handcrafts and other income-producing projects, providing education and medical care. You help to make that possible. You paved the way for God's care and compassion to reach desperate people. Knowing that gives me hope. It turns out the highway we build for God to reach others is also a highway for God to reach us.

The future is not what it used to be. It never was. We always live with one foot in the wilderness. With prayer, fellowship, and service prepare the way of the Lord.