"A Home Unbroken" Isaiah 66:18-23

Christmas shows up whether we’re ready or not.

On Christmas Eve, Mom’s already stressed because dinner is tomorrow and she can’t find Granda’s gravy boat.
Dad keeps saying, “It’s fine, it’s fine,” which means it is absolutely not fine.
Brother is making everyone late because he “lost track of time playing Valorant.”.
Sister’s planning on making a gluten-free dessert nobody asked for and will be deeply offended if everyone doesn’t love it.

You get to church ten minutes late and your usual seats are taken, which throws off the entire family ecosystem.
It’s time for carols by candlelight.
Little brother holds his candle a little too close to the girl’s hair in the seat in front of him. He looks like he might have ideas.
Dad blows it out so little brother gets mad and eats the candlewax.

Peace on earth.

Christmas morning comes early.
Real early.

Dad wants everyone awake because “it’s a family moment.”
Brother wants everyone to know that sleep is a human right.
Everyone’s already irritated and no one remembers why.

Mom’s coffee is spilled.
Someone makes a joke about it.
Someone else takes that personally.

Time to open gifts.
Little brother tears through his like a raccoon stuck in a Buc-ee’s dumpster.
Sister opens a sweater and immediately asks about how to return it.

The dog eats a ribbon.
The cat throws up tinsel in the middle of the floor.

Merry Christmas.

Dinner time. More family shows up.

Dad’s focused on slicing the roast beast.
Mom’s focused on getting everyone to the table in the right seats.
Sister and Brother are thinking about how to escape before dishes.
Little brother feeds his peas to the dog.

Aunt brings up something from years ago.
Grandpa says, “Can we not do this today?”
Which means this is exactly what we’re going to do today.

The table gets quiet—not the peaceful kind.
Words are chosen like stepping through a minefield.

We make it through. It probably won’t be that bad..

But Christmas is a lot darker for some of us.

Because for some, it’s not just awkward chaos.
It’s absence. 

Because… 

At some point things were said or things were done that couldn’t be taken back.
Relationships were broken.

Which means… 

Someone didn’t show up this year.
Someone won’t come.
Someone we love doesn’t really speak to us anymore.

Or, they’re actually gone. Laughter is hard to find.

Because some things aren’t funny when there’s an empty chair.

We ache for people to come home.
We ache for peace that doesn’t depend on everyone being on their best behavior.
We ache for things to be whole.

And that ache—
that longing for family unity—
It isn’t just sentimental.
It isn’t naïve.

It’s deeper than that.

It’s evidence.
It’s spiritual.
It’s theological.

It’s an ache for the true and lasting peace the arrival of Jesus will bring one day—
not just to our family,
not just to our heart,
but to the whole world.

The ache is the echo of a promise. Spiritual evidence of lost Eden.

And 700 years before Jesus was born, Isaiah tells us all about it. Let’s hear that reading again… 

ISAIAH 66:18-23

“I can see what they are doing, and I know what they are thinking. So I will gather all nations and peoples together, and they will see my glory. I will perform a sign among them. And I will send those who survive to be messengers to the nations—to Tarshish, to the Libyans and Lydians (who are famous as archers), to Tubal and Greece, and to all the lands beyond the sea that have not heard of my fame or seen my glory. There they will declare my glory to the nations. They will bring the remnant of your people back from every nation. They will bring them to my holy mountain in Jerusalem as an offering to the LORD. They will ride on horses, in chariots and wagons, and on mules and camels,” says the LORD. “And I will appoint some of them to be my priests and Levites. I, the LORD, have spoken! “As surely as my new heavens and earth will remain, so will you always be my people, with a name that will never disappear,” says the LORD. “All humanity will come to worship me from week to week and from month to month.

VERSE 18

“For I know their works and their thoughts.”

God isn’t confused by what’s going on in the world or in your family. He’s not wringing His hands, saying, “Wow, this year’s Thanksgiving really got out of control—how on earth are we going to handle Christmas.”

He knows.

He sees the tension, the estrangement, the broken hearts, the unspoken blame. He knows what’s been said. He knows what we’ve felt. Nothing is hidden from Him.

VERSE 18b 

“The time is coming to gather all nations and tongues.”

Isaiah is talking about a complete global breakdown—nations scattered across the earth, distant from God, distant from each other. He’s talking about what Jesus is going to restore worldwide when He returns. But in the meantime, He’s already started fixing things, He’s invested in the lives of His people. He’s working through His people.

This should be comforting to us. If He can promise to gather all nations and all people… 

He can certainly work between you and the person who won’t answer your texts.

VERSE 19  

“To the coastlands far away, that have not heard my fame or seen my glory.”

God is very aware that there are people in this world who do not know Him. 

Some of the people we ache for—the ones we desperately want at our table, and in God’s family—are spiritually “far away.” They don't listen to God. They don’t see that He’s real. Not right now. But as long as there is time, there’s always hope for them.

VERSE 20  

“They shall bring all your brothers from all the nations as an offering to the Lord.”

Who are “they?”

Isaiah says the nations—people once hostile, once far away—people like you and me—He’ll call them to Himself and actually use those people to bring more of His children home.

He’ll restore what’s broken—and use us to do it.
He’ll reconcile what’s fractured—through us.
He’ll gather what’s been scattered—and bring them home to His house.

VERSE 22 

“For as the new heavens and the new earth that I make shall remain before me… so shall your offspring and your name remain.”

This is God’s final, permanent fixing of reality itself. A new Eden. No more sin, loss, broken worship, broken families. Creation completely healed. And it will never break again.

VERSE 23 

“From new moon to new moon, and from Sabbath to Sabbath, all flesh shall come to worship before me.”

New moons, Sabbath to Sabbath… these are feast days. Celebrations. Like our Christmas. These are days of special worship services and giving thanks.

Their worship had been interrupted by exile and war.
God promises that when all things are made new, this will never happen again.
Worship will never be interrupted. God will never feel distant.

And this promise is not just for the Jewish nation. It’s for all people.

All flesh.
All nations.
All God’s children.
One home.
One heart.
One joy.

This is our future.

This is our promised home.

This is the unbroken family God is creating through Jesus.

It started when He was born in the manger.
It will be completed when He comes again in Glory.

Meanwhile, we live in between. We feel the hope and anticipation of what’s to come.
We also feel the ache and heaviness of the broken world all around us.

We have been made holy by grace through faith—Jesus has made us saints.
But we are also sinners, living in a world of sin. Saint and sinner.

So we need to be honest:
The fracture isn’t only in “them.” It’s also in us.

Part of the ache we feel is because—we contributed to it. We know it’s at least partly our fault.

We said things that hurt people.
We reacted with emotion instead of listening.
We’ve held onto grudges.
We’ve been prideful, or passive-aggressive, or silent when we should’ve spoken up, or spoken up defensively when we should’ve been silent.

And holidays amplify it all.

We want a peaceful Christmas while at the same time harboring resentments that guarantee it won’t be.

Our hearts are fractured, too.

So if God left the healing to us alone—
If He said, “You broke it, you fix it”…
There really would be no hope.

Because we’re stubborn.
Because we can’t control the other person.
Because we can’t heal their heart.
We can’t force reconciliation.

Sometimes we do everything right—
And it makes it worse.

Sometimes we apologize—
And nothing changes.

We pray, we hope, we try again, we fail again… 

And we can’t help but wonder…
“Is it always going to be like this?”

Isaiah looks straight into our fear, straight into our discouragement and says:
“No. Not forever.”

God never said you’ll be able to fix it.

YOU are not the healer.
YOU are not the gatherer.
YOU are not God.
God is. Jesus is.

But that doesn’t mean we don’t have to do anything. You’re not completely off the hook.
He wants to work through us… To be a Christian means that we’re supposed to be Christ’s activity in the world. There are good works that He created in advance for us to do.

Sometimes I’m like, “I’m all ears, God! What do You want me to do?” What are we supposed to do when the people we love seem so out of reach?

Three things:
1. We bring grace and peace into our family gatherings.
2. We treat our loved ones the way God treats us. And…
3. We trust the outcome to God.

1. We bring grace and peace into our family gatherings.

This is what’s in our control. We bring grace and peace wherever we go. And we do it with the same attitude Christ brings it…
Not because they deserve it. We don’t deserve what Jesus does for us, either.
Not because it makes everything instantly better. Does Jesus showing us grace and peace all of a sudden make everything magically perfect? No. We still live in this fallen world, at least for now.
And show a little humility. We don’t bring grace and peace because we’re spiritually superior. We’re not perfect, Jesus is—and He humbled Himself, taking on the form of a servant.

We bring grace and peace to our broken relationships because:

It’s a preview of what God’s going to do for the whole world someday.

The peace we bring to our table is a tiny picture of the coming kingdom.

Our kindness, as imperfect as it is, makes a big difference because it’s a foretaste of the home God is making for us.

Our self-control is a byproduct of God working in us—it’s the fruit of the Spirit living in us.

Come on, you know who’s going to try and push your buttons. Anticipate it, and don’t let it happen. Be kind in response to their jabs. Someone once said, “Turn the other cheek.” Do that.

Don’t take the bait.
Don’t escalate the conflicts.

The old you would always want to defend yourself. Explain yourself. Correct them, argue and win. Everyone gets a black eye and bruised ego.

The new you, the one that follows Jesus…
Slows down. Lowers the temperature.
No sermon. No punching back with clever comebacks.

It breaks the script. Changes the game.
A soft answer turns away wrath.

Do more listening than speaking. Be curious about why your crazy relatives believe what they believe. Treat them like a person you care about instead of a problem to fix.

Listening involves being quiet. Sometimes silence, like Jesus before Pilate, is the most faithful response.

So many more helpful things to do than get sucked into an argument.
Redirect, “Hey, how’s the project you’ve been working on?”
Offer to get them another drink.

Or just go outside for a minute to ask God to help you. “Lord, You know how this usually goes, guard my heart. Give me patience. Grace and peace.”

You may not be able to heal the fractures and pain in your family,
but you can refuse to make it deeper. You can do whatever is in your power to not make it worse. And…  

2. We have to treat our estranged loved ones the way God treats us.

With love, obviously, which means…
With patience.
With truth.
With gentleness.
With mercy.

Not enabling their sin. Not excusing it. Not ignoring it…
but also not withholding kindness or pushing them away.

We don’t pretend like the fractures and the pain don’t exist—
But we also don’t weaponize it and punch back.
Our anger isn’t going to do anything good.

Love endures.
It doesn't give up.
But it also doesn't try to control—doesn’t try to win.

It’s not easy.

You have to  love them with the cross-shaped love Jesus shows you—
the kind of love that puts up with pain without returning it. Which probably sounds like some kind of ancient spiritual Kung Fu. 

How we going to be ready to react like this when Aunt Kay corners us and starts talking about COVID again?

Well, it won’t be easy. You’ll probably start wishing we all still had to wear masks and stay 10 feet away from each other.

But cross-shaped love means when people hurt us, we don’t hurt them back.
Sacrifice for them rather than fight back for ourself. The opposite of ego. The opposite of rubbing their mistakes in their face, reminding them of their hypocrisy.
We’re not trying to prove we’re right and they’re wrong.
We’re trying to let God work through us to repair the relationship.
Show them the way of Jesus is the better way.

And then… 

3. We have to trust the outcome to God.

He’s the one who says:

VERSE 18  

“I will gather all nations.”

Not us.
Not our amazing argument.
Not our clever manipulations.

The gathering is God’s part.

This does NOT mean your loved ones are guaranteed to repent and believe.
This does NOT mean the relationships will magically heal in this life.

But it DOES mean:

God is not finished with them. Or with you.
And the story isn’t over—not yet.
So keep bringing grace and peace, even when it feels impossible.
Even when it feels like it’s not doing anything.
You do your part, trust God to do His.

Because here’s the hope that is real—
not vague, not sentimental fluff, not just “everything will be okay.”

The hope is this…

Jesus Christ is already gathering His fractured family.

He started gathering when He came the first time:
He was born into our broken world,
took on our fractured humanity.
Brought His kingdom. Lived a perfect, sinless life in this broken, confused world.
Gave that perfect life for us on the cross.

Where…

He wore your shame.
He carried your relational failures.
He took the blame and punishment you deserve.
He absorbed the pain you’ve caused others—
and the pain they’ve caused you.

On the cross, Jesus offered Himself as the ultimate “peace offering” between God and man.

And now—
He’s risen from the dead and reigning at the right hand of the Father—
He’s begun doing what Isaiah promised:

He’s gathering the nations.
He’s gathering the wanderers.
He’s gathering the prodigals.
He’s gathering the brokenhearted.
He’s gathering YOU and the people you love.

And one day—
at His second coming—
It will be complete…

• every wound will be healed,

• every injustice will be addressed,

• every tear will be wiped away,

• and every relationship in Christ will be restored
  in ways we can’t even imagine.

The fractured world will be unfractured.
The broken homes will be unbroken.
The family of God will be whole. In grace and peace.
True, undeniable joy to the world.

So here’s what I’m hoping…
This Christmas—
when you’re sitting at the table,
bracing yourself for weird comments and awkward silence—
remember this—this is what you can bring to the party… 

Grace and peace.
Your grace is a small picture of God’s amazing grace.
Your peace is a tiny preview of God’s perfect peace.
Your longing for unity is an echo of the unity Jesus gave everything to bring.

It’s ten days until Christmas Eve.
Eleven until Christmas dinner.
And twelve until it’s all over for another year. 

Keep this in mind… 

You don’t have to fix your family. Not your job to fix it.
You don’t have to pretend everything is fine. Everything is not fine.
You don’t have to carry all that weight.

You just need to live as someone who knows the One who can.
Someone who promises…
A better day is coming.
A restored family will gather together for...
A perfect celebration of the arrival of Christ—Christmas— that’s what’s on the horizon.

And until that day…
As a follower of Jesus…
you can bring grace and peace wherever you go,
even into a house full of people who might be a little challenging sometimes.

Grace and peace. Amen.