SERMON “Expectations, Disappointments, and New Beginnings”

We all make plans. We carry expectations. And sometimes, we find ourselves deeply disappointed. Isaiah tells the story of someone who planted a vineyard. He chose fertile soil. He cleared the stones. He planted the very best vines. He even built a tower and a winepress. Everything was perfect. Everything was ready. Of course, he expected good grapes. But what came instead? Wild, bitter grapes.

Badger’s story is much the same. He carefully sorted his seeds. He planted them in straight rows. His friends came to help. Everything looked perfect. But then—a storm came. Heavy rain swept it all away.

That’s unsettling, isn’t it? And we know Jesus as the Prince of Peace. We hear him greet the disciples after the resurrection: “Peace be with you.” We share the peace with one another every Sunday. And yet, in the Luke Gospel, he is, saying he brings not peace, but division.

Isaiah’s vineyard. Badger’s garden. Jesus’ fire and division. Are they all pointing to the same truth?
That when our carefully made plans collapse, when our perfect pictures fall apart, this is not the end.
It may be the beginning of something new.

“The Vineyard of My Beloved”

Isaiah starts like this: “Let me sing for my beloved a love song about his vineyard.” This story begins as a love song. The vineyard was made with such care. Rich soil. Strong vines. A watchtower for protection. Even a winepress, ready for harvest. Every detail shows deep love.

“People of Jerusalem and Judah, judge between me and my vineyard. What more could I have done for my vineyard that I have not done?”

The story shifts. The song becomes a courtroom drama. God, the gardener, becomes God, the judge. “What more could I have done? What else could I have given?” It is the voice of disappointment. God longed for justice. But saw only bloodshed. God desired righteousness. But heard only cries of distress.

So God declares: “Now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard. I will take away its hedge, and it will be destroyed. I will break down its wall, and it will be trampled.” And indeed, Jerusalem would be invaded, the temple destroyed, the people taken into exile.

And then Isaiah explains the mystery: The vineyard of the Lord Almighty is the house of Israel. The people of Judah are his pleasant planting. The vineyard is not about land at all, it is about God’s people. Now we turn to Jesus. In today’s gospel, he speaks words that shock us.

“I came to bring fire.”, “I came to bring division.”, “Fathers against sons. Mothers against daughters, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law.”

These words jar us. They do not sound like good news. But Jesus is saying: the old ways must be broken open. Peace maintained by blood ties and tradition, peace that avoids conflict, peace that hides injustice, this cannot last. Religious comfort, tradition without heart, faith without risk, this cannot last.

You see, the fire Jesus brings is not for destruction, but for purification. It is the fire of transformation. He even speaks of his own baptism; a baptism of fire that points to the cross. Even he had to pass through the cross before resurrection could come.

Think of Moses. He did not come with easy answers. He came with plagues. With conflict. With confrontation. Even his own people resisted him. But the conflict was the doorway to freedom. Good news can sometimes feel like bitter medicine. Hard to take in, but truly healing.

And then Jesus challenges the crowd: “You can read the weather. You see clouds and know rain is coming. You feel the wind and know the heat is near. But can you not read the signs of the times?”

The people of Isaiah’s day missed the signs. Wild grapes grew in the vineyard, but they did not see. The people of Jesus’ day missed the signs. God’s kingdom was breaking in before their very eyes, but they could not see.

And what about us? We check our weather apps. We know the property market. We follow the news. We know which café has the best coffee. But do we see what God is doing around us?

When refugee families arrive in our neighbourhood, can we see God’s call? When young people are anxious about their future, can we see God’s heart? When we see wars and growing inequality, when the vulnerable fall through legal cracks and addiction affects so many families, can we see God’s heart? To discern the times is not just about recognising problems. It is to notice where God is planting new vineyards, in places we did not expect.

Friends, God’s new vineyard may not look like the risk-free faith we imagined. There may be conflict in families. There may be hard decisions. There may be disappointments in our own lives. But through these very things, God is bringing us into maturity and into deeper wisdom.

Like Isaiah’s vineyard, like Jesus’ fire, like Badger’s Garden, sometimes what looks like failure is the ground of new beginnings. Badger thought all was lost. He closed his door in despair. But while he was grieving, the seeds were still alive. They had been scattered in ways he could not see. And when he finally stepped outside, he saw it. Not neat rows. Not the perfect plan. But colour and life, everywhere. A garden more beautiful than he could ever have imagined.

That is God’s way. Our fences cannot contain it. Our small plans cannot capture it. God takes our disappointments and brings forth new life. So yes, storms will come. Yes, peace may be shaken. Yes, we will face wild grapes, washed-away gardens, and even fire. But in it all, God is making ready the most perfect garden. A place of joy. A feast for all people. A new beginning. So let us not be afraid of disappointments. Let us not despair in conflict. Instead, let us look for the God who is always planting, always renewing, always beginning something. Amen.