Our Sermons

Bible Passage: Isaiah 42:1-4
Pastor: Pastor Schlicht
Sermon Date:  March 10, 2021

It’s December 1, 1955. A 40-year-old woman boards a bus in Montgomery, Alabama. She carries herself well, despite having spent the day bent over an ironing board in a dingy basement of a tailor shop. Her feet are swollen. Her shoulders ache. She is glad to finally sit down. She sits in the first row of the Colored section and looks on quietly as the bus fills up. Until the driver asks her to give up her seat to a white passenger. Then this woman utters a single word that would ignite one of the most important civil rights protests of the twentieth century. She says “No.” The driver threatens to have her arrested and Rosa Parks simply replies “You may do that.” No self-pity, no crying out in complaint. She just sat down with quiet strength in the face of injustice.

I had always imagined Rosa Parks as a woman with a bold temperament, someone who could easily stand up to a busload of glowering passengers. But when she died in 2005, a flood of obituaries recalled her as soft-spoken and sweet. They said that she was “timid and shy” but had “the courage of a lion”. They were full of phrases like “radical humility” and “quiet fortitude.” She would later title her own autobiography Quiet Strength, a title which begs the questions, “How can silence speak so loudly? And why do we often assume that silence is a weakness?”

Tonight we travel on the Road to Redemption from Silence to Silence. From Isaiah’s prophecy of silence to the quiet fortitude of Jesus on trial for his life. The silence of Jesus, like Rosa Parks, would lead to justice, but in a way infinitely greater and more complete than any type of temporary justice we might long for on this earth. And we will discover that his silence also empowers us to avoid self-pity and complaints. No matter what injustice may come, we too can sit down with quiet strength in the confidence of his love.

If you read through the trial scenes of the Gospels with a careful eye, you’ll realize how stunning Jesus’ silence really is, especially to those presiding over his trial. First Jesus was brought before the Jewish Sanhedrin, picture Jesus standing bound before the High Council. They’re looking for anything to pin on him, even false evidence. Many false witnesses come forward trying to spin Jesus’ words. But Jesus remains silent the entire time, and it seems like his silence is what unnerves the chief priest, Caiaphas: “Are you not going to answer?” He asks. “What is this testimony these men are bringing against you?” But Jesus remained silent. (Mt. 26:62) Frustrated at his unwillingness to retaliate they spit on him and strike him in the face.

Next, Jesus would be passed between Pontius Pilate and King Herod. Picture Herod gleeful to finally see Jesus in person. He’s even hoping to see a miracle. The Jewish leaders surround Jesus before Herod’s seat, viciously accusing him again. Even Herod plies him with many questions “but Jesus gave no answer” (Luke 23:9). Herod can’t have his fun and so he and his soldiers mock Jesus and send him to Pilate. 

Now Jesus is standing in front of the Roman Governor. Once again he is accused of everything you can think of, but in the face of so many conflicting accusations, Jesus remains silent once again. Matthew records “But Jesus made no reply, not even to a single charge—to the great amazement of the governor.” And then even more silence when Pilate asks him “Where do you come from?” (Jn 19:9) Pilate was stunned, “Do you refuse to speak to me?” Pilate said. “Don’t you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?”

What’s going on with Jesus? Why does he just take it when people accuse him of these terrible things, especially when it’s false? He wasn’t overwhelmed, was he? Frozen in fear? Speechless at the injustice of it all? No, this powerful silence was prophesied long before. 

The prophet Isaiah wrote under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit 700 years before Jesus would be born. And yet he prophesied of the coming Messiah in acutely descriptive ways which were only fulfilled in the life of Jesus. He prophesied that he would be born of a virgin. He prophesied that he would live in the region of Galilee. He prophesied that the Messiah would be pierced for our transgressions. To this day, it is hard for me to read chapter 53 without being moved. He even prophesied his resurrection from the dead. But in Isaiah 42 there is a lesser-known prophecy of the Messiah’s silence: 1 Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight… 2 He will not cry out. He will not raise his voice. He will not make his voice heard in the street… 3b-4 He will faithfully bring forth a just verdict.  He will not burn out, and he will not be broken until he establishes justice on the earth.

Verse 2 is what is called a litotes, a rhetorical device of understatement which emphasizes the positive by using negative statements. We use litotes in English quite often. For instance, if someone has just said something super obvious, you might respond with a litotes “Well, you’re not wrong.” Or maybe you’ve used this phrase: “Careful, that wasn’t cheap.” Or in encouragement. “See, that wasn’t so hard!” The same thing is happening here. Isaiah is painting a picture of the Messiah who will come to bring justice to the nations. The various expressions—“to cry out, to lift up the voice, to make his voice heard in the street”—are intended to describe the manner in which people usually deal with injustice. They cry out, they complain, they draw a crowd. But Isaiah uses these in a litotes. In other words, Isaiah says that the coming Messiah will deal with injustice in a distinctly different way. He will establish justice through silence, he will be positively characterized by a quiet fortitude. He will not yell and shout, he will not complain, he will remain composed, he will take the accusations with grace. He won’t demand pity, he won’t shame others, he will be unmoved in his silent love. And that’s what we see of Jesus, clearly fulfilled in his trials. And his silence is so stunning, because, as Isaiah knows, it is the opposite of what we usually do.

There’s a seductive sin, a dangerous species of pride that often goes unnoticed and unaddressed in human hearts. It poisons relationships. It prevents us from repentance. And because it is so sly, the tentacles of pride maintain their grip on the heart, even while we may appear humble and even virtuous outwardly. I’m talking about self-pity, a sin that is everywhere these days. Pity is the virtue of showing sympathy and seeking understanding. But when pity turns inward, it diminishes compassion for others and makes us overly concerned with ourselves. I think it becomes clearer if you compare it to boasting. Boasting may be the response of pride to success, but self-pity is the response of pride to suffering and injustice. Boasting says, “I am worth more because I have achieved so much.” Self-pity says, “I am worth more because I have suffered more injustice.” Boasting is usually obvious, but self-pity is subtle but both are symptoms of sinful pride. It may appear as if someone struggles with low self-esteem or unworthiness. But, in reality, those who wallow in self-pity are usually unhappy because they think their greatness has gone unnoticed or is not being recognized in the way they’d like. 

It can happen to all of us. How often when criticized, rightly or wrongly, our response is not turning to God for justification or repentance, but to inwardly whine, to cry out about this supposed injustice. Or we cry out to others close to us, complaining that these accusers do recognize our worth and value—our gifts that have gone unappreciated. How quickly we retreat into the echo chamber of our minds and rehearse again and again the injustice that has been done to us! Poor me.

This is why Jesus’ silence is so powerful. He was not asking for pity. He was not concerned with defending his innocence. He wasn’t going to raise his voice in defense of justice, because he knew that injustice was part of the plan. He knew that through his silence, he would be sentenced. He knew that his quiet fortitude would allow them to conclude the sham trial with crucifixion. And so, in soundless love, he became the sin we had committed. He stepped under the just punishment that we had brought upon ourselves. He did not cry out because he wanted to take the blame. He was silent because his shoulders were broad enough to bear the weight of sins’ ugliest accusations. 

This is how to get rid of self-pity. Realize that you do not receive what is just from God, you receive grace, the undeserved love of full forgiveness, and eternal life. My friends, resisting self-pity doesn’t mean we should suppress our hurts. It doesn’t mean that we should turn a blind eye to real injustice around us. It doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t consider or correct accusations brought against us. Resisting self-pity means looking up to the crucified Jesus. It means boasting in the cross which crucifies our pride as well.  Resisting self-pity means recognizing that the greatest injustice was not done to you, but to your Savior. This beautiful travesty, which Christ endured for you, overshadows any injustice you may suffer on this earth. So when the accusations come, when self-pity tempts, when you want to complain or cry out, remember that your Savior was silent for you. First, look up to Christ and then to the people around you. Shed self-pity so that you can love and serve them with compassion. Focus on the powerful silence of your Savior and sit down with quiet strength in the face of injustice.

Amen.