Shoots and Seedlings

A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots [Isaiah 11:1].

In September 1996, Hurricane Fran did “her thing” on North Carolina. As many of you will recall, Fran was so huge and so strong that despite “the Triangle’s” distance from the coast, the storm’s outer winds blew through our West Durham neighborhood at almost 100 mph because the storm’s eye was still offshore at Cape Fear.

We “weathered” Fran better than most. We suffered no real damage. We didn’t even lose a tree. In our back yard, however, we did have a large pine that, while still well-rooted, was now leaning precariously toward the house. I retained some professionals to cut it down, but I decided to save the $600 I had been quoted for stump removal. Instead, I bought a portable generator.

Late the following spring, as I was walking around in the backyard, I noticed that from the pine tree’s stump a hearty green shoot had sprung. I laughed to myself, “Old pine tree, I suppose I should call you Jesse.”

While it’s been 11 years since Jane and I moved from that house on Berini Drive, each time I read Isaiah 11——Isaiah 11:1-10 is the OT lesson for this upcoming Sunday, the Second Sunday of Advent (RCL, Year A)—I think of that old tree and that new shoot. That thought stirs my heart with hope.

Might something new and fulfilling spring from the stump of Jesse—not the pine tree—but the father of King David? As Isaiah promises, might someone spring upon the scene to judge the world with righteousness, to decide with equity for the meek of the earth? Might harmony reign? Might the powerful cease to trample the weak? Might the wolf live with the lamb, the leopard lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion eat straw together, all the while being led by a little child? Such a new world would be strange. Ah, but it would be beautiful. Through Isaiah’s beautiful words, we find room for hope.

Alas, the full context of Isaiah’s beautiful chapter 11 words is not so beautiful. In the final verses of Isaiah 10, the prophet has unleashed a host of warnings, or rather “explanations.” Palestine endures no hurricanes, but it has had to endure the wrath of Yahweh. Isaiah reminds the reader/hearer that Yahweh has “lopped off” multiple trees and branches. Only the trees and branches about which Isaiah speaks weren’t botanical. These “trees” were the rich and powerful people in the northern kingdom of Israel. Because the rich and the powerful have plundered the lives of the poor and lowly, because the leaders of the northern kingdom have engaged in idolatry, Yahweh has given over the northern kingdom of Israel to the Assyrians.

And the news isn’t much better for the Assyrian conquerors. Isaiah says that because of their cruelty, Yahweh will punish them as well. Just as they overran Israel, the Assyrians will be overrun by the Persians. Still later, says Isaiah, the southern kingdom of Judah (where Jerusalem was located) would be cut down like her northern sister. All who have ears can hear that when Judah is conquered by the Babylonians in 587 B.C.E., King David’s line will be destroyed. After the Babylonians plunder Jerusalem, there will be no more Yahweh-favored kings for Judah.

And yet, in this week’s Chapter 11 reading, the prophet moves from destruction to hope. The tree representing the Davidic line has indeed been cut down. But Isaiah stresses that out of the stump of Jesse—David’s father—there will emerge a fresh new shoot. Isaiah cautions, however, that this new shoot will not grow to be a mighty cedar. The leader/king represented by this new shoot will be different. He will not conform himself to the expectations of the powerful. He will dispense safety and care for the lowly. Nor will He allow himself to become an instrument of revenge. Rather, He will be an instrument of love. This new leader/king will be patient and kind. He will be strong, yet resilient. The shoot from the stump of Jesse will break through the harshness that has dominated the people’s lives for so many generations.

Some time ago, a lawyer colleague from Wyoming shared that near Buford, in the southeastern part of his state, there’s an old pine tree that survived the onslaught of the Union Pacific Railroad. In 1867, as railroad construction crews moved through the area, workers came upon the crooked, bending tree. The tree appeared to have strained and pushed a granite boulder aside to reach for the sky. The workers were so impressed by the tree’s tenacity that they left it alone, shunting the railroad around it. Today, the old pine still lives near mile marker 333 on I-80, where the Lincoln Highway splits to allow for the tree’s continued persistent presence. It takes a special shoot to move both a boulder and a railroad. What might be possible through the shoot that springs from the stump of Jesse?

Almost two thousand years ago, early on a Sunday morning, three women arose at dawn so that they could take spices to the tomb of a loved one. He had endured a cruel death late in the day on Friday, as the Sabbath approached. Accordingly, his body had been quickly entombed. A large, heavy stone sealed the entrance to the tomb. Now the Sabbath was over. The women wanted to anoint his body, but as they walked to the tomb, they said to themselves, “Who will roll away the stone for us?” [Mark 16:3].

When the women reached their destination, they saw, of course, that the heavy rock had already been rolled away from the tomb’s entrance. This was not the work of young, strong men. Instead, the persistent, powerful shoot from the stump of Jesse—even Christ our Lord—had pushed away the stone. Their Lord was risen from the dead. No heavy stone could contain Him.

As Isaiah foretold, a shoot would spring from the stump of Jesse. Born to a young virgin, housed for a time in a stable, forced to flee to Egypt to escape a jealous and dangerous puppet king, the shoot seems fragile, but it is the most powerful force the world has ever seen. Moreover, the shoot is relentless. He is stubborn and resilient. He is patient; He never gives up. The shoot will come after the lost sheep on every occasion. He will never abandon any He calls His own.

Lean forward just a bit and hear something else. This shoot grows like a thirsty plant in dry ground. The shoot is relentless in its pushing. When it encounters hard surfaces, even stone-cold hearts, it keeps pressing forward. It never gives up.

During the past year or so, I’ve talked with several of you out there who are deeply troubled. You’ve all but given up. Between the pandemic, the economy, the division among our peoples, perhaps some personal failures, and other issues known only to you, you feel as if you’ve been effectively sawed in two. You have nothing left, it seems, save for a stump.

May I allow that the God of Isaiah has planted a seedling within you? He has planted it deep within your heart. It has taken root in that part of you where faith longs to push back the stones, to reach for the Light, and to embrace the One who will always embrace you.

There is, of course, a part of you that is accustomed to doubt. That part is trying to convince your heart that it’s just too late. “The trunk of the tree has been severed,” it says. “There is no hope.”

But there’s always hope since God’s seedling is rooted within your heart. It’s the sort of seedling that on that first Easter morn pushed away the stone from the tomb. It’s the sort of seedling that when planted in the heart of the Samaritan woman at the well, caused her to forget her past, to acknowledge her new Lord, and to go to her people with the good news of the Messiah [John 4]. It’s the sort of seedling that longs to break forth from your doubt, to show you what joy is found in allowing the seedling to grow.

Some of us disfavor the Season of Advent because it seems as if we’re always waiting. Why can’t we just rush forward to celebrate the new king’s birth? During Advent, we wait because the seedling within us needs time to grow. Let it grow. Pause and pray, rinse and repeat. Christ isn’t nearly finished with you and me.