Hope Rising from the Stump: Finding Joy in Advent

The Christmas season invites us into a curious tension. We string lights, hang decorations, and gather with loved ones, yet many of us carry heavy burdens that threaten to steal our joy. Financial worries, strained relationships, health concerns, grief—these realities don't pause for the holidays. In fact, they often feel more acute when the world around us insists on celebration.

This tension isn't new. It's the very tension the prophet Isaiah addressed when he spoke to a people facing exile, their hopes cut down like a felled tree. Yet in that moment of apparent hopelessness, Isaiah delivered one of Scripture's most beautiful promises—a message that speaks directly to our modern struggles with disappointment and uncertainty.

When Trees Become Stumps
Isaiah 11 opens with a striking image: "There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit."

The imagery is deliberate. Jesse was King David's father, and David's royal line had been promised permanence. For four hundred years, that dynasty stood like a mighty oak, providing shade and security for God's people. But because of persistent idolatry and rebellion, judgment came. The tree was cut down. What remained was merely a stump—a memorial to what once was, a symbol of hope destroyed.

Anyone who has faced devastating loss understands this imagery. The career that defined you, gone. The relationship you thought would last forever, ended. The health you took for granted, compromised. Life leaves us staring at stumps, wondering if anything beautiful can ever grow again.

Yet Isaiah's prophecy contains a revolutionary promise: from that dead stump, new life will emerge. Not just any life, but something greater than what came before.

The New David: Spirit-Endowed and Faithful
The shoot that grows from Jesse's stump isn't just another king in a long line of flawed rulers. This is someone fundamentally different—a king endowed with the Spirit of the Lord, possessing wisdom, understanding, counsel, might, knowledge, and the fear of the Lord.
What makes this king unique is his single-minded focus. His delight is in fearing the Lord. While other kings might be swayed by political pressure, personal ambition, or the visible evidence before them, this king operates from an entirely different foundation. He doesn't judge by what his eyes see or decide by what his ears hear. He knows hearts. He sees truth. He acts with perfect righteousness and faithfulness.

This matters profoundly for those of us navigating confusion and uncertainty. When we don't know which direction to turn, when well-meaning friends offer contradictory advice, when our own emotions cloud our judgment, we have a king who possesses perfect wisdom and unwavering faithfulness. He is dressed in righteousness and faithfulness—it's his very nature.

The New Testament reveals this king's identity: Jesus, the descendant of Jesse, upon whom the Holy Spirit descended at his baptism. He is the new David, but infinitely greater than David ever was.

A New Creation: Peace Beyond Imagination
Isaiah's vision expands from the king himself to the kingdom he establishes. The description is almost fantastical: wolves dwelling with lambs, leopards lying down with young goats, lions eating straw like oxen, children playing safely near cobra dens.
This isn't merely poetic language about political peace. It's a vision of the curse reversed, of creation restored to its Edenic harmony. The serpent that brought deception in the garden is now docile. The predator and prey rest together. Violence and destruction cease.
But the most radical transformation isn't in the animal kingdom—it's in human hearts. Isaiah explains the reason for this peace: "The earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea."

This is the reversal of Genesis 6, where God observed that "every intention of the thoughts of man's heart was only evil continually." In the kingdom this new David establishes, the earth's inhabitants will know and delight in the Lord willingly and gladly.

We long for this reality. We ache for the day when relationships aren't marked by betrayal, when nations don't wage war, when suffering and death are no more. While the fullness of this new creation awaits Christ's second advent—the new heavens and new earth promised in Isaiah 65 and 2 Peter 3—we already taste its first-fruits through the peace Christ brings.

A New Exodus: Rest for the Weary
Isaiah's prophecy culminates with imagery of a new exodus. Just as God once delivered his people from Egypt, this new David will gather the scattered remnants of God's people from every corner of the earth. But this exodus reaches far beyond ethnic Israel—the nations will rally to him.

Here's where the mystery deepens and becomes personal. This descendant of Jesse is also called the "root of Jesse." He's both the offspring and the originator, both the branch and the source. This paradox points to the incarnation—Jesus is fully human (David's descendant) and fully divine (David's creator).

When Jesus was lifted up on the cross, he drew people from every nation to himself. This global exodus isn't from geographical bondage but from the slavery of sin. And it leads to something even better than the Promised Land—it leads to divine rest.

Jesus himself issues the invitation: "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

This rest isn't merely physical sleep or the absence of conflict. It's participation in the eternal rest God himself enjoyed on the seventh day of creation. It's the rest that sustains us even when circumstances are exhausting, when we're kept awake with worry, when life feels overwhelming.

We live in the tension between Christ's first and second coming. The new David has come—that's historical fact. The Spirit-endowed king walked among us, died for our sins, and rose again. He has initiated the new exodus, calling people from every nation to himself.

But the new creation hasn't fully arrived. We still experience pain, disappointment, and death. Wolves still devour lambs. Evil still seems to triumph.

The prophets themselves struggled to understand the timing of these promises. They saw the mountain peaks of Messiah's coming but couldn't always distinguish between his first advent in humility and his second advent in glory. If Spirit-inspired prophets didn't have every detail figured out, we shouldn't be surprised when we struggle with the "not yet" aspects of God's promises.

What we can cling to is what we do know: the shoot from Jesse's stump has come. The Spirit-endowed king is faithful and wise. He knows our hearts, our struggles, our disappointments. He leads us with perfect righteousness even when we can't see the path ahead.

The advent season calls us to remember and celebrate these truths. Yes, acknowledge your struggles. Don't pretend the stump isn't real. But look closely—do you see the shoot? New life is growing. Hope is rising. The faithful king is working, drawing his people to himself, preparing a new creation, and offering rest to all who come.

That's reason enough for joy.