"The Road Maker"

U.S. highway 20, which stretches from Boston to Newport, Oregon, is certainly a long one. But it’s not the longest in the world. In that category, you’d have to include the Pan-American highway or the Trans-Siberian highway in any conversation about such roads. And then there’s the wilderness road mentioned in Isaiah 43. It’s a new highway, and guess who got the contract to build it? God & Company, that’s who!

            It’s quite possible that your summer vacation plans are already set. Reservations have been made, and you’ve identified the place or places you want to visit. The type of holiday you have in mind might be one of many: You might hit the beach, take an urban vacation or spend time with relatives. Or perhaps you’re going to opt for adventure: a nature and wildlife experience, a cultural and historical tour or a gastronomic foray to a few of the country’s best restaurants. Maybe your trip is all about taking it easy: You’re headed for a cruise, a wellness retreat or a romantic getaway.

            There’s one more option: a road trip! This comes to mind because of an interesting comment in today’s reading from Isaiah 43: “I will make a way in the wilderness.” You’re hoping for things like scenic drives, visits to multiple destinations, camping and the exploration of various attractions along the way — while singing Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again.”

            So, what’s the longest such trip? The 19,000-mile Pan-American highway is always a part of the conversation. It stretches from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, to Ushuaia, Argentina, traversing multiple countries and diverse terrains, including deserts and wastelands like the one Isaiah mentions in our text.

            The Trans-Siberian highway, which starts in metropolitan St. Petersburg, runs 6,835 miles through the heart of Russia before ending in Vladivostok on the far eastern end of the country, next to the Pacific Ocean.

            In the United States, spanning 3,365 miles, U.S. Route 20 runs east to west, covering 12 states. The highway was completed 99 years ago, and begins in Boston and ends in Newport, Oregon.

            But perhaps the ancient prophet was thinking of a road like the “Desert Highway” in modern Jordan. It runs about 200 miles from Amman to the southern port city of Aqaba, traversing the Jordanian desert. The weather conditions can be extreme, including extraordinary triple-digit temperatures and horrific sandstorms. This is possibly the “wilderness” Isaiah envisions in verses 19-20, a wasteland occupied by “wild animals ... jackals and the ostriches.”

            The looming question concerning our text, then, is one of paths, roads or highways. How does one make a “way in the wilderness?” How can we create “rivers in the desert?”

            Lord knows we’d love to see some sort of path in the barren landscape we occasionally encounter in our lives. True, not everyone feels that their world is blah and boring, a sandy expanse of nothing but duties and rules — obligations that litter our lives like the rocks and pebbles of a dusty washboard road. But many people do feel something akin to a guy in the Sahara with nothing but an Army surplus canteen. And he’s down to his last swallow. What is such a person to do in a situation where no clear path is delineated?

The road maker

            When we’re lost and overwhelmed, it’s important to remember that God is the road maker. According to Isaiah, we are not expected to be in the business of building roads through the wilderness. That’s God’s job. “I will make a way in the wilderness,” God tells the prophet. I will create “rivers in the desert.” It’s a truth that’s been a staple of the American gospel tradition, sung in a variety of versions for more than 100 years:

Got any rivers you think are uncrossable?Got any mountains, you cannot tunnel through?God specializes in things thought impossible,And he can do what no other power can do.1

            This quatrain doesn’t mention roads, but the theme is there, building, no doubt on verse 2 of Isaiah 43, the same chapter from which today’s passage is drawn: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, / and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; / when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, / and the flame shall not consume you.” It is God who builds bridges across raging rivers. It is God who tunnels through mountains. It is God who creates canals in the desert and who constructs interstate highways across barren lands.

            So, for starters, this is the key point to remember. When lost in a wilderness, we don’t need a road: We need God. Having God, the rest will fall into place. If we’re thirsty, we don’t need a river: We need Jesus, who said to the woman at the well, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”2

            In today’s passage, God says to Isaiah: It is the Lord “who makes a way in the sea, / a path in the mighty waters, / who brings out chariot and horse, / army and warrior; / they lie down; they cannot rise; / they are extinguished, quenched like a wick.” In other words, it is God who does the heavy lifting. We’re better off if we can remember this and get out of the way.

            Get out of the way? Why? Because God is “about to do a new thing,” Isaiah proclaims.

Let go of guilt

            But first, there is some business to take care of. God tells Isaiah, “Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old.” This is another way of saying that we need to let go of our guilt and sense of shame. This is an important theme in the Bible. The apostle Paul talks about forgetting the past in his letter to the church at Philippi.3

                    We’re almost through Lent, otherwise known as the “Christian diet,” a season in which we spend 40 days giving up things. We Christians are sometimes accused — usually in a friendly way — of being guilt-ridden, which some of us evidence by a fastidious observance of Lent. But we consider ourselves to be observant, practicing Christians, and we’re going to keep practicing until we get it right. Sometimes, we feel like that person sitting with others at a fancy dinner who eagerly dives in eating, mouth full and cheeks puffy, and then someone says, “Let us pray and give thanks.”

            Guilt. It is probably safe to say that most of us can look back on words spoken or actions taken that we regret and about which we cannot seem to shake the memory. This can be a good thing, because we’re forced to make amends, seek forgiveness and so on.

            But having done that, there is no honor in carrying around the burden of ill-conceived plans, misspoken words and thoughtless actions. At one time, Paul, the great apostle of the early church, was its greatest persecutor. He described himself as one of worst sinners ever — and for good reason.4 Yet he was able to jettison that baggage to become the greatest apologist and evangelist the church would ever know.

            Our text instructs us to let go of the past. This doesn’t mean we should completely forget our history or ignore our experiences. Rather, it means that we should not be so anchored to our past that it prevents us from moving forward.

            Granted, it’s hard to let go. For some reason, it’s like we actually prefer to hold on to past hurts, failures or even successes, allowing them to define and limit us. To embrace the new thing God is doing, we must release these old attachments. This might mean forgiving others, forgiving ourselves or even letting go of past achievements that keep us complacent. God tells Isaiah, “Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old.” To which the apostle Paul adds, “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; look, new things have come into being!”5

Embrace the new thing

            It is time to turn our faces toward the future and the changes that may be in store for us. God makes it explicitly clear that change is in the wind: “I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth; do you not perceive it?”

            God is always at work, unfolding layer upon new layer of the divine promises of restoration and redemption, plus blessings that we do not yet “perceive.” To further unpack the meaning of this verse, let’s turn to something Pope Francis said a few years ago that applies not only to Catholics but to all Christians. In a Christmas Eve message, Francis said, “The Christian life, in reality, is a journey, a pilgrimage. The biblical story is all a journey, marked by starts and restarts. ... The history of the church is always marked by departures, moves, changes. The journey, ... [is] an invitation to discover the movement of the heart that, paradoxically, needs to start in order to remain, to change so as to be able to be faithful.”6

                    Let us never fear as we face a wilderness of uncertainty, that God is before us preparing the way, doing “a new thing.” It’s a new thing we can embrace with hope.

1 The song, usually known as “Got Any Rivers,” was written by Oscar C. Eliason and has been recorded by numerous artists including Mahalia Jackson. A brief history can be found here: www.vcy.org/read-on-air/2018/11/11/got-any-rivers/.

2 John 4:13-14.

3 Philippians 3:13-14.

4 1 Timothy 1:15. 

5  2 Corinthians 5:17.

6 See Gerald O’Connell, “Pope Francis tells Roman Curia: Do not fear change, it is in the nature of the missionary church,” America: The Jesuit Review, www.americamagazine.org/faith/2019/12/21/pope-francis-tells-roman-curia-do-not-fear-change-it-nature-missionary-church, December 21, 2019.