8.31.25 - Sermon written and preached by Leigh Rachal @ FPC Abbeville

Love Will Have the Final Word: Reclaiming Faith from Fear-Based Religion
Texts: Isaiah 65:17–25, Revelation 21:1–6a

There’s no shortage of doom in the world.
Turn on the news, scroll social media, or just stand in line at the grocery store.

We even have a new word to describe the process of looking through the newsfeed of Facebook or other social media channels.

We don’t just call it scrolling anymore.

Because what we are looking at in those feeds can be so depressing,

Now it is called, “doom-scrolling…”

And given the current dumpster fire that is often the state of the world around us, it’s easy to believe the story that this world ends in destruction.

In flames.
In loss.
In fear.

Some versions of Christianity double down on that idea.

They tell us God’s final word is judgment.

That the goal is escape.

That the world is disposable.

That if we want to be saved, we’d better get our act together—fast.

But I don’t believe that’s the story scripture tells.
And I don’t believe that’s the story God is writing.
Because I don’t believe fear is God’s final word.
I believe love is.

“I am about to create new heavens and a new earth…”

That’s what the prophet Isaiah dares to proclaim.

And it’s echoed centuries later in Revelation, as John declares:

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth… the home of God is among mortals… See, I am making all things new.”

Not….

I will burn it all down.

Not….

I will rescue a chosen few while the rest are left behind.

But…..

I am making all things new.

And here’s what’s important to know:
Neither Isaiah nor John was writing from a place of ease.

These aren’t visions dreamed up in comfort.
They are hope born from hardship.

Isaiah 65 comes to us from a time after the Israelites had returned from exile in Babylon.
They thought coming home would be the happy ending.

But the city was still in ruins.
The temple was still a shell of what it had been.
People were divided.

The land was fragile.
The promises of God seemed far off, maybe even broken….

And into that disappointment, Isaiah doesn’t offer a return to the past.

Isaiah’s vision offers something bigger:
Not just a rebuilt city, but a new heaven and a new earth.

A world without weeping.
A world where children thrive and elders are honored.

Where people live in the homes they build,

eat from the gardens they plant,

and find peace not only among themselves,

but even in creation itself.

This is not just optimism.
It’s a bold act of faith.
A forward-looking hope that refuses to be defined by ruin.

Revelation is written in the same spirit.

John of Patmos writes to early Christians under the weight of Roman persecution.
Faith had made them vulnerable.
Justice seemed a long way off.

And yet—he doesn’t preach escape.
He doesn’t say, “Just hold on until you get to heaven.”
He paints a picture of God moving in to the world.

“See, the home of God is among mortals…”
“Death will be no more…”
“I am making all things new.”

This isn’t just a description of the end times that we may or may never get to see…..

It’s a manifesto of trust.
That even when empires rise and fall,
even when the world feels like it’s unraveling,
God is not finished.

And love will still have the final word.

These scriptures don’t just give us a someday vision.
They give us a call to live like it’s already beginning.

Isaiah describes people building homes and growing food,
raising children and planting vineyards,
living long and good lives in a world no longer driven by fear.

Revelation invites us to imagine a city where God lives not above and apart from us, but among us:

where tears are wiped away,
and all the hurt, the pain, and the despair of this life are no more.

I’m sure you have been driving down the street and seen someone carrying one of those classic apocalypse signs.

You know the ones:
“The end is near!”
“Prepare to meet thy God!”
I once saw one hanging off a highway overpass and wondered how the heck someone got it up there!

Anyway, these signs usually make me chuckle a bit…. But sometimes they make me sad… because if you live in fear of meeting God – fear that you might not measure up, fear that God might not really love all of you, fear that you need to stand up straighter and clean up your life a bit more, then your relationship with God is not one based on love, but fear….

But I wonder—what if we made signs that said something else?

What if we made signs that said:
“God is already here.”
“Love is already winning.”
“You are already known—and loved—and called.”

Wouldn’t that change the story?

Scripture doesn’t tell us to panic.
It invites us to participate.
Not in the countdown to destruction, but in the building of beloved community.

The end isn’t near because everything is doomed and getting worse!
The end is near because God is always drawing nearer and nearer.

And this - this holy anticipation of love made visible -
this is what the church has always called Advent.

Those weeks leading up to Christmas, when we light the Advent wreath and anticipate the birth of the Savior…

During Advent, we are not just the waiting for a baby born two thousand years ago,
but also experiencing the deep, aching, active hope for Christ’s coming again.

Not just into the world, but into our lives.
Into our streets. Into our headlines. Into our hospitals and homes.
Into every system that still wounds.
Into every part of creation still groaning for healing.

Advent is not nostalgia. Or simply looking back to a time when things seemed simpler and a Savior was born in a manger.

Advent is about resistance.

It is the refusal to believe that the darkness gets the last word.
It is standing with Isaiah and with John and daring to believe
that Christ will come again,
not with wrath, but with restoration.

That the One who once took on flesh and moved into the neighborhood
will come again to make all things new. And indeed, is already working on making all things new.

That’s why this vision matters.
Because it tells us the story is not over.

That God has not forgotten.
And that what God began in Christ is still unfolding—
in us, through us, and beyond us.

We began this morning singing “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee.”
That’s not just a cheerful way to start a service.

It’s a declaration.
That in the face of sorrow, we choose joy.

That creation itself – the sun and moon, the field and forest – nothing was made for doom.

We were all made for delight.

Creation is Good – very Good even….

God’s love is written into the very rhythm of the world.

And when we listen, we can hear that song… the song of God’s new heaven and new earth already playing in this world….

While we wait, we can kind of sway to the music, clap our hands and hearts to the new beat and rhythms…

While we live our lives in this world, while the fire in the dumpster still burns bright, while doom still fills our news feed with horrific news….

Even in the midst of all this, we can tune our ears, like adjusting the old rabbit ear antenna to catch the right station, we can tune our ears to hear God’s new heaven and earth, coming even now and all around us….

And when we do, we find that we can’t help but groove to that beat of joy and hope and peace… Living into God’s new heaven and earth like people who can hear different music than everyone else in the room…

It is God’s “very Good” world we are called to live for.
Not with fear. But with courage.
Not in despair. But in love.

Because the end is not destruction.
The end is restoration.
And Love will have the final word.

But also….
Love is already speaking.

In every act of kindness.
In every work of justice.
In every meal shared.
In every person reminded that they belong.

We don’t have to wait for heaven.

We can live like it’s breaking in right now.
We can live like love has the final word -
because in Christ, we know that it already does.

Thanks be to God! Amen.