Hope out of Darkness
Originally delivered at New Hope Community Church in Brentwood, TN on December 1, 2024
First to see the sunrise
You know, I recently had the change to take a trip to Acadia National Park in Maine. And there's this place there, Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park - where you can be the first person in America to see the sunrise. Imagine that. Wouldn’t that be cool to be able to say that you were one of the very first people in the country to see the sunrise? While the rest of the country is still in darkness, light first makes it appearance on that mountaintop. That's where the sun, where light starts its journey across our nation.
I brought a couple of photos to share with you that I took from the top:
So this is looking out over Bar Harbor, that’s the town down there, and then the second is looking out toward the east. And I wish I could tell you I was there to see the sunrise. But I didn't. Why? I was asleep. But isn't that just like us with hope sometimes? We know where to find it, we might even be close to it, but we don't always make the journey. We don't always position ourselves to see the light break through. And yet, even though I missed that sunrise, here's what strikes me about it: whether anyone shows up to watch or not, the sunrise still happens. Every single morning, without fail, darkness gives way to dawn. First on that mountaintop, then spreading across our entire nation.
And you know, that's exactly what hope does. That's what light does in darkness. And I don't think it's any accident that God chose the darkest time of the year for us to celebrate Advent. Think about it - we're heading into the shortest days, the longest nights, the coldest season... and right here, in this darkness, we prepare to celebrate the Light of the World.
And when light breaks in, everything changes.
And that's exactly where we find God's people in Isaiah 9. They're walking in darkness - not just the kind that comes before dawn, but the kind that settles into your soul. The kind that makes you wonder if hope is even possible anymore. And right there, in their darkest moment, God speaks a promise that would change everything.
So, grab your Bibles and turn to Isaiah 9. If you don't have a Bible with you, no worries - the words will be up on the screen. But I want us to camp out here this morning because what God says to His people then has everything to do with where we are right now.
Walking in Darkness
Let's start in verse 2:
“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone. ”
When Isaiah writes this, he's not just being poetic. He's talking about real people facing real darkness. The northern regions of Israel - Zebulun and Naphtali - they're about to experience devastation like they've never seen before. These regions are here on the map.
But these are than just names on a map. These were communities on the edge, the first to face the incoming storms of invasion, the last to receive help from Jerusalem. Let me give you some context about these regions, because it matters to understanding just how dark their darkness was. Zebulun and Naphtali were part of the northern kingdom of Israel, sitting right along what we would call the Sea of Galilee. Beautiful country, actually. Fertile land. Trade routes running through it. But here's the thing - their very location made them vulnerable. They were like the front porch of Israel. Any army wanting to invade from the north had to come through their territory first.
And it wasn't just their geographical location that left them vulnerable. These tribes had a history of struggling with faithfulness to God. Back in the book of Judges, when God's people were fighting for the Promised Land, Zebulun and Naphtali didn't fully drive out the Canaanites as God had commanded. They compromised. Instead of following God's clear command, they decided partial obedience was good enough. They let the Canaanites stay, probably thinking it was the practical thing to do. Maybe they rationalized it - these people could work the land, they could trade with them, they could benefit from their knowledge of the territory. But here's what happens with compromise - it never stays small. Those Canaanites brought their gods with them, their practices, their ways of life. What started as just letting them stay in the land led to intermarriage, which led to adopting their customs, which led to worshiping their gods. One small compromise grew into generation after generation of spiritual confusion. Until finally, they couldn't even recognize the darkness they were walking in anymore.
And now, generations later, that compromise had led to spiritual darkness that matched their political vulnerability. Think about that phrase - "walking in darkness." Not running through it. Not escaping it. Walking in it. Living in it. Day after day. Have you ever been there? Where the darkness isn't just a moment, it's a season? Where you wake up to it, carry it through your day, and go to bed with it still hovering over you? Where it starts to feel normal, and that's maybe the scariest part of all?
For them, it was the Assyrian empire breathing down their necks. And we need to understand something about Assyria - this wasn't just another ancient army. The Assyrians were a superpower of their day, and they were known for their brutality. They had developed siege warfare into an art form. Their policy was to deport conquered peoples, to scatter them throughout their empire, to deliberately destroy cultural and family bonds. These people were watching their nation crumble, their leaders fail, everything they thought was secure slipping away. These regions would be the first to fall to Assyria. The first to be conquered. The first to be scattered. History tells us what happened. Around 734 BC, the Assyrian king Tiglath-Pileser III would sweep through these regions. He would take their people captive, scatter their families, and plunge them into a darkness deeper than they could have imagined. Isaiah's prophecy isn't just poetic language - it's speaking to real terror, real loss, real darkness.
You know, it reminds me of how the Bible begins. "The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep." And what did God do? He spoke. "Let there be light." The first thing God does in the Bible is address darkness. And here in Isaiah, He's doing it again.
But there's a crucial difference. In Genesis, darkness was passive - just an absence of light. But the darkness in Isaiah? It's active. It's oppressive. It's got weight to it. Skip verse 3 for now, and look at verse 4 with me:
“For the yoke of his burden, and the staff for his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian.”
Notice here that Isaiah talks about a "yoke of his burden" and a "rod of his oppressor." For them, it was literal oppression - foreign armies, heavy taxation, the constant threat of violence. Their children grew up wondering not if things would get worse, but when.
The yoke he's talking about wasn't just metaphorical. In ancient warfare, when armies would conquer a people, they would actually make their captives walk through a yoke - like the kind used for oxen. It was a physical symbol of their submission, their defeat, their oppression. And the rod? That was the weapon used to keep them moving, to enforce their slavery. But right here, God promises something incredible. He says He'll break this burden "as in the day of Midian." Now, if you don't know that story, it's worth flipping back to Judges 7 for a second. It's when God used Gideon - with just 300 men carrying nothing but trumpets and empty jars - to defeat an entire army. And not just any army - an army so vast that the Bible says they were like locusts covering the ground.
The Midianite army numbered about 135,000 men. Gideon started with 32,000, and God said, "That's too many." He whittled it down to 300. Why? Because God specializes in impossible odds. He loves to show up exactly when things seem most hopeless. When the odds are impossible. When darkness feels unbeatable. And look how He did it - with trumpets and clay jars with torches inside them. Think about how strange this battle plan must have sounded to Gideon. No swords. No spears. Just clay pots with torches hidden inside them. In the darkness of night, these 300 men surrounded the Midianite camp as they slept. At Gideon's signal, they broke their jars, held their torches high, and blew their trumpets. Suddenly, light exploded from every direction, shattering the darkness. The Midianites woke to what seemed like an army of light surrounding them.
But here's what's beautiful about this - God didn't just use light as a military tactic. He was painting a picture of how He works. Those clay jars had to be broken for the light to shine through. The very thing that seemed like weakness - broken pottery - became the means for light to break into darkness. Light breaking through brokenness. Light shattering darkness.
Light breaking through brokenness. Light shattering darkness.
John Stott once said,
“The hope of the gospel is not the absence of suffering but the presence of God.”
I love that. Because look at what God promises here - He doesn't just offer a better government or stronger armies. He doesn't just promise better circumstances. He promises to step into the darkness Himself.
Maybe today you're carrying your own kind of yoke. Maybe it's debt that feels crushing - every month, every bill, like that rod of the oppressor coming down again and again. Maybe it's an addiction that seems unbreakable, that keeps you walking in darkness even when everyone around you seems to be in the light. Maybe it's guilt that won't let go, that whispers “you're too far gone, too broken, too lost.” Or maybe it's just the weight of trying to keep it all together when everything feels like it's falling apart. Maybe, like Zebulun and Naphtali, you feel like you're on the edges - the first to face life's storms and the last to receive help.
But here's what I want you to see: God has a pattern. From Genesis to Isaiah to the Gospel, to right now, He doesn't wait for us to find our way out of the darkness. He doesn't stand at the edge and call us to climb out. He steps into it. He enters it. He walks right into the middle of Zebulun and Naphtali - the forgotten places, the broken places, the desperate places. And that's exactly what we're going to see next in this passage - exactly how God chooses to break into our darkness.
The Promise of Light
Look back at verse 2 with me. Notice something fascinating about the verb tense here:
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.”
Not "will see." Not "might see." Have seen. It's written as if it's already happened. That's because when God makes a promise, it's as good as done.
You know what this reminds me of? If you've ever experienced a blackout, you know that darkness doesn't gradually go away when the lights come back on. When the power returns, light floods every corner instantly. One moment, everything's dark. The next - boom - light changes everything. That's how God's light works. It doesn't negotiate with darkness. It doesn't slowly push it back. It breaks in and transforms..
But look what happens next in verse 3.
“You have multiplied the nation; you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as they are glad when they divide the spoil.”
This light doesn't just illuminate - it brings joy. Isaiah says, "You have multiplied the nation; you have increased its joy." And he describes this joy like a harvest celebration, like people rejoicing when they divide the spoil.
Now, maybe "divide the spoil" isn't a regular part of your week (It’s not part of mine), but think about what this meant to them. Harvest time was when all their hard work paid off. When months of waiting and hoping finally turned into abundance. When what just seeds buried in soil were bursting with life.
And look at verse 5 now with me:
“For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire.”
Notice what God is promising here: He’s not just saying things will get a little better. He's promising a complete reversal. A total transformation. You want to talk about hope? Look at this verse. It's like He's saying, "You know all those things that keep you up at night? The things you're afraid of? We're going to turn them into ash."
How?
Well, C.S. Lewis once wrote,
“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”
That's what God's light does - it doesn't just brighten our day, it helps us see everything differently. It changes how we view our struggles. Our purpose. Our past. Our future.
Talk about hope.
You see, this promise isn't just about what God would do then. When Jesus stepped into our world - in John 8:12, He said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness." The promise Isaiah made in the darkness became a person in a manger. And this light, this hope - He has a name. And every name reveals another facet of how God's light breaks into our darkness.
Hope with a Name
Look at verse 6 with me:
“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given." Notice that phrase - "to us." This is personal. This is intimate. This is God saying, "I'm not just fixing the problem - I'm stepping into all of this myself."
You know what's remarkable about this? In ancient times, when kings made pronouncements, they would say things like "for the glory of the empire" or "for the might of Assyria."
But here, God says, what? "To us."
To people walking in darkness. To people under the yoke. To people who feel forgotten. It's like getting a gift with your name on it - not just addressed to "resident" or "occupant," but to you personally.
And then Isaiah gives us four names that tell us exactly who this child is. Each one is like unwrapping another layer of hope. And these aren't just nice titles or names that we can call Him - in the ancient world, names revealed the deepest nature of who someone was.
Wonderful Counselor
First, He's called Wonderful Counselor. In Hebrew, that word "wonderful" - pele - means something extraordinary, something miraculous. The same word is used in Exodus when God parts the Red Sea, in Judges when the angel ascends in flame. This isn't just someone who gives good advice. This is someone whose very nature defies our expectations, breaks our categories.
You know those moments when you don't know what to do next? When you're at a crossroads and every path looks dark? The Wonderful Counselor doesn't just show you the next step - He walks it with you. He doesn't just have wisdom - He is wisdom. Think about Solomon, renowned for his wisdom. People came from everywhere to hear his counsel. But here's someone greater than Solomon. Someone who doesn't just solve problems but transforms the problem-solver.
Mighty God
Second, He's Mighty God - El Gibbor. Think about that - the same God who spoke galaxies into existence, who carved out ocean depths, who set the stars in place - that's who steps into our darkness. When life says you can't, the Mighty God says, "Watch Me." When darkness says it's too strong, the Mighty God says, "Let there be light."
The word "mighty" here - gibbor - it's a warrior term. It's used for David's mighty men, for the heroes of Israel. But paired with El, with God? This is divine power stepping into human history. This is strength beyond strength. The same word appears in Deuteronomy 10:17 - "For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great, the mighty, and the awesome God." That's who this child is.
Everlasting Father
Third, He's Everlasting Father. Now, this might sound confusing - isn't Jesus the Son? But this title tells us something profound about God's heart. In Hebrew, it's Avi-Ad - Father of Eternity. This isn't just about duration - it's about character. About nature. About relationship.
When the world walks out, when friends fall away, when everything feels temporary - the Everlasting Father stays. No expiration date on His love. No limit to His care. In ancient Middle Eastern culture, calling someone "father" wasn't just about biological relationship - it was about protection, provision, presence. A father was meant to be a shelter in the storm, a refuge in trouble. And this Father? He's everlasting. No retirement. No resignation. No replacement.
Prince of Peace
Finally, He's Prince of Peace - Sar-Shalom. That word "peace" in Hebrew - shalom - it's not just the absence of conflict. It means wholeness. Everything as it should be. The world working the way it was designed to work. You know what that means? Jesus doesn't just calm storms - He gets to the root of what causes them. He doesn't just manage our chaos - He transforms it into order.
And notice He's the Prince of Peace. Not just a peaceful person, but the one who rules peace itself. In ancient royal titles, "Prince" often meant the authentic representative of something. The one who fully embodies it. So this isn't someone who just talks about peace - this is someone who brings it, who establishes it, who makes it reality.
But look what happens next in verse 7. This isn't just about who He is - it's about what He establishes:
“Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.”
The Hebrew here literally pictures peace multiplying, expanding, growing without limit.
Think about that phrase - "there will be no end." This isn't just poetic language. Look through history with me for a moment. Every kingdom that looked invincible eventually crumbled. Assyria - the superpower threatening Israel in Isaiah's day - where is it now? Gone. Babylon, who would come later and seemed unstoppable? Gone. Rome, whose empire stretched across the known world? Gone. Even in our lifetime, we've watched supposedly unshakeable powers fall.
But this kingdom? It's different. It keeps growing. It keeps increasing. The Hebrew word for "increase" here - מַרְבֵּ֨ה (marbeh) - it's fascinating. It pictures something that multiplies from within, like a seed becoming a forest. Think about that - a seed doesn't need external help to grow. It's encoded in its DNA. It's unstoppable, inevitable, built into its very nature. That's what this kingdom is like. It doesn't expand through military might or political power. It grows from within, transforming hearts, changing lives, spreading hope person by person, generation by generation.
Why? Look at the end of verse 7:
“The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.”
That word "zeal" - it means passionate commitment, jealous love, unstoppable determination. This isn't just God making a plan - it's God throwing the full weight of His character behind the promise He's making.
And you know what that means? This isn't dependent on us. It's not hanging on our effort or our faithfulness. The zeal - the passionate commitment - of God Himself guarantees this promise. J.I. Packer put it this way:
“The Christian hope is not wishful thinking, but a faith-filled certainty rooted in God’s unchangeable character.”
Think about this with me - the people of Israel, they were living in the "not yet." They had these promises, these prophecies, these glimpses of hope, but they were looking forward. Waiting. Watching. Generation after generation, they held onto these words. Through exile, through return, through silence, they kept hoping. They kept believing that God would send this child, this son, this light in their darkness.
Closing
The top of Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park in Maine where you can be one of the first to see the sunrise... that's what's wild about hope - it doesn't wait for perfect conditions. It doesn't wait for everyone and everything to be ready. It breaks through the darkness.
That's what happened in Bethlehem. Think about those shepherds in their fields. Night after night, they would have looked up at the stars, familiar with every pattern in the sky. Just like sailors throughout history, they knew the North Star - constant, unchanging, faithful. When everything else in the night sky appears to move, the North Star stays fixed, showing the way home. Showing the wise men the way to the True Light.
Some of you came in here today walking in darkness. Maybe it's the darkness of a broken relationship. Maybe it's a health diagnosis that's haunting you. Maybe it's loneliness, or anxiety, or just feeling lost in your own life. I want you to hear something: The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.
This isn't just history. This isn't just poetry. This is God's promise to you. The same God who said "Let there be light" in Genesis, the same God who guided His people with a pillar of fire out of the slavery of Egypt, the same God who sent His Son as the Light of the World - that God sees you in your darkness. And He doesn't just see you - He steps into it with you.
Remember those names:
When you need wisdom: He is your Wonderful Counselor
When you feel weak: He is your Mighty God
When you feel alone: He is your Everlasting Father
When everything feels chaotic: He is your Prince of Peace
Jesus came to earth, just as Isaiah said He would. The hope the Israelites held through centuries of waiting was fulfilled in a manger in Bethlehem. That's our confidence today - we serve a promise-keeping God. When we face our own darkness, we're not just hoping in a concept or an idea. We're hoping in a person who has already proven His faithfulness. But here's what's amazing - we're still people of hope. Just like Israel looked forward to Christ's first coming, we look forward to His return. They hoped in the promise of light breaking into darkness; we hope in the promise that the light will one day fill every shadow, heal every wound, right every wrong. Their hope was fulfilled in a manger; our hope will be fulfilled in His return as King.
Let’s pray:
"Father, thank you that you don't wait for us to find our way out of the darkness. You break in. You bring the light. For everyone in this room walking in darkness right now, would you help them see that glimmer of light on the horizon? Would you remind them that hope has a name - Jesus? And would you give us the courage to keep walking toward that light, to keep trusting your promise even when the darkness feels heavy? Thank you that your light always wins, that your hope never fails, and that your presence never leaves us. In the name of Jesus, our Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace, Amen."
And now, we're going to remember this truth in a powerful way - through communion. You see, on the darkest night of His life, Jesus took bread and wine and gave us this meal to remember Him by. Even in that darkness, He was thinking of us. Even facing His own suffering, He was providing hope for us. This table reminds us that light always breaks through - not just in spite of darkness, but often through it.
In a moment, we'll worship together, and during this time, you're invited to come forward to receive the communion elements. You can take them back to your seat and participate in communion when you feel ready. Let this be a personal moment between you and the Lord - remember that just as He broke into the darkness that night in Bethlehem, He breaks into our darkness today through His body broken for us and His blood shed for us.
Let's pray.
"Father, thank you that you don't wait for us to find our way out of the darkness. You break in. You bring the light. For everyone in this room walking in darkness right now, would you help them see that glimmer of light on the horizon? Would you remind them that hope has a name - Jesus? And would you give us the courage to keep walking toward that light, to keep trusting your promise even when the darkness feels heavy? As we come to this table, help us remember that on the darkest night, you were preparing our brightest hope. Thank you that your light always wins, that your hope never fails, and that your presence never leaves us. In the name of Jesus, our Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace, Amen."