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Isaiah 11:1–10 (KJV)
Opening — Naming the Old Rules
There are some rules this world will hand you before you even know how to write your name. You learn them at the dinner table when the adults fall silent about certain topics. You learn them on the playground when the bigger kids remind you who runs things. You learn them at the corner store when you see who gets followed and who gets left alone.
The strong survive.
The weak serve.
Keep your head down.
Don’t make trouble.
If you want to live, watch your back.
It’s the law of the jungle dressed up in a suit and tie. It’s the wolf and the lamb. It’s the way the old order works.
Isaiah knew those rules. He lived in predator territory. Assyria was the kind of empire that devoured nations whole. They didn’t just take your land—they took your future, your hope, your voice. That’s predator territory. That’s where lambs keep quiet and wolves roam free.
But in the middle of that reality, Isaiah stands up with a word from God and says: The rules done changed.
Advent in the Dark
We’re in the season of Advent—the time the church calls us to wait. But Advent is not polite waiting, not waiting in a warm lobby with soft music playing. Advent is waiting in the dark. Advent is standing on a street where the streetlights are out and wondering when the dawn will come.
We don’t start Advent with “Joy to the World.” We start with a stump. We start with a promise that looks almost dead. “There shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots.”
A stump is what’s left when the axe has done its work. It’s after the damage, after the cut, after the promise has been stripped to almost nothing. But Isaiah says God can bring green out of dead wood. God can make life sprout where the rules say nothing can grow.
That’s Advent hope—it’s not naïve optimism; it’s gritty expectation. It’s not pretending the wolves are gone; it’s learning to walk in the light while they still prowl. The rules done changed.
Truth-Telling — The Predator’s World
Isaiah’s vision of wolves and lambs lying down together isn’t a quaint children’s book illustration. It’s an assault on the way things are. The natural order says predators win and prey loses. And if you want to live, you better get sharp teeth or stay out of sight.
We know that world too well:
- The landlord who raises the rent knowing the tenant has nowhere else to go.
- Corporations that squeeze workers while executives buy vacation homes they’ll never live in.
- Policing that protects some neighborhoods and patrols others like enemy territory.
- Churches that cover up sin to protect reputations instead of protecting the wounded.
That’s predator territory. The wolves roam free. The lambs learn silence. And the rules keep turning in the predator’s favor.
Lament — Feeling the Weight
Let’s be honest—it’s exhausting living by those rules. It eats at the soul to always be on guard. It wears you down to watch the strong get stronger while the weak get blamed for their own suffering.
The blues knows how to sit in that space. It’s the sound you make when you can’t fix it but you won’t lie about it. The blues will name the pain so you don’t have to carry it alone. The blues says, “Yeah, it’s bad out here, but I’m still here.”
Isaiah’s people needed that kind of song. So do we. Because if you don’t lament, you start pretending. You start smiling when you’re really breaking inside. Advent won’t let us do that. Advent says: light the candle, yes—but also tell the truth about the night.
Memory — God’s Rule-Changing History
But Isaiah doesn’t just lament; he remembers. Memory is the backbone of hope.
- Remember when God broke Egypt’s rules in the Red Sea. Pharaoh said, “You belong to me.” God said, “They belong to Me.”
- Remember when Daniel sat down in the lion’s den. The old rules said the lion eats the man. God’s new rule said, “Not tonight.”
- Remember when Rome sealed Jesus in the tomb. The old rule said the grave wins. God said, “He is risen.”
And our history carries its own memory:
- Harriet Tubman walking through slave-catching country with nothing but the North Star and the Spirit.
- Freedom Riders rolling into towns where the wolves waited at the station, singing “This Little Light of Mine” like a battle cry.
- Grandmothers feeding grandkids from cupboards that looked empty to everybody else.
Every time, the old rules said, “Stay in your place.” God said, The rules done changed.
Resistance — Living the New Rules Now
Isaiah’s peaceable kingdom isn’t just a someday vision; it’s a now command. Advent people don’t just wait—they live like the new rules are already in place.
- When the old rules say, “Protect yourself first,” the new rules say, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
- When the old rules say, “Tell them what they want to hear,” the new rules say, “Speak the truth in love.”
- When the old rules say, “Fear the stranger,” the new rules say, “Welcome them as Christ welcomed you.”
Living by the new rules is dangerous to the old order. You become a walking contradiction. You confuse the predators because you won’t play the game. And that’s exactly what we’re called to do.
Hope — The Rise
Isaiah paints the vision: wolves and lambs together. Children safe enough to play by the cobra’s hole. The earth full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.
That’s not survival—that’s shalom. That’s peace with the teeth pulled, the claws clipped, the hearts changed.
Advent hope says: live like that now. Walk into the block meeting and speak peace when the tension is high. Sit with someone from the other side of the aisle and listen without fear. Visit the hospital room with a prayer that doesn’t just ask for healing but declares God’s presence in the pain.
Because if you wait for the wolves to disappear before you start living the new rules, you’ll wait forever. But if you live like the rules done changed, you’ll see signs of the kingdom breaking in right here, right now.
Street-Level Scenes — Advent on the Block
Picture a Saturday morning when the neighborhood finally feels safe enough for kids to ride their bikes without somebody looking over their shoulder every second. Imagine a school where the counselor has time to listen, and a grocery where fresh food doesn’t cost a whole paycheck. See the barber shop where arguments cool down because folks remember each other’s names before their politics. Watch the church steps where volunteers pass out hot meals and cold water without a camera in sight.
These are not small things. They are Advent things—signs that the new rules are already at work. The wolf loses his bite whenever mercy walks unafraid. The lamb lifts her head whenever dignity is defended. The old order shakes whenever truth is spoken without hate and love is given without a receipt.
From Stump to Shoot — The Source of the Change
All of this flows from the Branch that grows from Jesse’s roots. The Spirit that rests on Him—wisdom, understanding, counsel, might, knowledge, the fear of the Lord—this is the power that changes the rules. He judges the poor with righteousness. He reproves with equity for the meek of the earth. He smites the earth with the rod of His mouth, and with the breath of His lips He slays the wicked. Righteousness is the girdle of His loins; faithfulness the girdle of His reins.
This is why wolves and lambs can live together—because the King is different. This is why the little child can lead—because fear no longer runs the house. This is why the earth can be full of the knowledge of the Lord—because the truth isn’t locked in a temple; it’s poured out on the streets.
Call to Advent Practice — Walking the New Rules
How do we practice Advent under the new rules?
- Tell the truth. Refuse the comfort of lies. Name the pain, and name the hope.
- Protect the vulnerable. Stand between the wolf and the lamb when you can; go get help when you can’t.
- Make peace on purpose. Be the first to listen, the first to forgive, the first to put down the weaponized word.
- Share the table. Eat with people the old rules told you to fear. Watch how walls come down over bread.
- Keep the song. Sing the blues that tells the truth and the gospel that tells the future. Let your life carry both verses.
This is Advent resistance. This is what it looks like to live what we say we believe.
Closing — Announce It and Walk It
The old rules have been running the show long enough. They’ve kept us divided, afraid, suspicious, and small. Advent says: those rules are not the final word.
The shoot from Jesse’s stump is growing. The Spirit of the Lord is resting on Him. He’s judging with righteousness, defending the poor, striking the earth with the rod of His mouth.
So step into predator territory with your head high. Feed the hungry without fear. Speak truth even when it costs you. Make peace where peace ain’t supposed to be.
And when they ask why you’re living like that, say it plain: The rules done changed.
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