Glad Land, Glad People

Sermon Transcript

Every night, we read a story to our kids.  Some are silly, some are deep, but there’s a common element to good stories: resolution.  We all long for resolution.  That’s why even from childhood, we’re drawn to stories that end with everything made right.  Villains defeated, wrongs corrected, peace restored.  You know the classic fairy tale ending, “And they lived happily ever after” because it taps into something deep inside us.  It satisfies a longing in our hearts.  But as we grow up, we realize that life doesn’t work out that way.  Conflicts don’t vanish.  Pain doesn’t stay in the past.  Even when things seem to get better, brokenness shows up again somehow.  So is there reason to believe your story could have a fairy tale ending?

God’s people in Joel’s day didn’t have much reason to believe that.  There’s debate on when Joel’s prophecy was written, but it’s clear they were living under the heavy hand of God’s judgment.  Whether before or after their exile to enemy nations, it was difficult to rejoice because crops were destroyed, the land was in ruin, and the livelihood of animals and people did not last long at all.  This morning, we are dropping in right in the middle of the book of Joel.  I’ll have to give some context of what happens in chapter 1, but know that our text breaks in like a sudden sunrise.  It offers not just a temporary fix, but a promise of full restoration: a reversal of judgment, a renewal of the land, and a satisfying resolution.

But this isn’t a fairy tale.  It’s the true and living word of God.  God is the author and the main character, and he doesn’t leave his people in ruins.  He acts.  He restores.  He satisfies.  We are taking a quick detour from preaching through the Psalms this summer.  But last week, Pastor Mike preached from Psalm 32 which told us to “Be glad in the Lord!”  So this morning, may the LORD guide us to do that as we respond to the invitation of the prophet Joel: Be glad!  He gives us three reasons.  Because in God’s mercy, judgment is not the final word.  Because restoration is coming, creation will rejoice.  And because God’s people will be fully and finally satisfied in him.

God’s judgment answered (v. 18-19)

We begin at a decisive turning point in the book of Joel. Up to this point, the tone has been dominated by warning and lament. Chapter 1 and the first part of Chapter 2 paint a grim picture: the land is ruined, locusts have devoured everything, priests are mourning, and the people live in dread. Whether literal insects or symbolic armies, the locusts are undeniably signs of divine judgment. Most biblical scholars agree: the earlier chapters likely describe real locusts causing real devastation, and the later verses point to future military invasions, echoing even greater judgment to come. And that judgment is not random—it is covenantal. The language intentionally mirrors the curses of Deuteronomy 28. God had warned, “If you will not obey the voice of the LORD your God…then all these curses shall come upon you and overtake you.” Cursed fields, cursed flocks, foreign invaders, and total destruction—this is what covenant-breaking brings. Joel 1:10 confirms that Judah is living under these consequences: “The fields are destroyed, the ground mourns, because the grain is destroyed, the wine dries up, the oil languishes.” The people of Judah heard God’s word and still rebelled. So now, through Joel, God reminds them of the Day of the LORD—a day of reckoning already unfolding. The locusts are not the final blow; they are the preview. The message is clear: Judgment has come because you broke the covenant. And unless you return, worse will follow.

But then—then—everything changes: “Then the LORD became jealous for his land and had pity on his people.” This verse is a theological earthquake. God had every right to destroy what was broken. But instead, he responds to his own judgment. The same God who sent devastation now stirs with holy jealousy—not a selfish outburst, but a covenantal zeal. Why? Because the land being ruined is his land. The people suffering are his people. He will not leave what belongs to him in ruin. Deuteronomy 11:12 describes the land as one “the LORD your God cares for”—and now that land has been brought to ruin. But God still cares for it. And even more, he pities his people. The Hebrew word suggests a deep emotional stirring. God is not detached or indifferent. He feels. And he moves.

So how does he answer? With tangible blessings: grain, wine, and oil—the very things destroyed by the locusts are now restored. These aren’t just signs of peace with God. For a famine-struck people, they are life itself. Imagine how fragile Judah’s existence had become—one more swarm, one more season of drought, and their entire nation could vanish. But God says, Not on my watch. He won’t let his people starve, and he won’t let his land stay barren. They cried out, “Spare your people, O LORD,” and he answered his own judgment by promising provision. Not only that, but he removes their shame. The nations had mocked them—“Where is their God?”—but now God vindicates his name and his people. The judgment had been deserved. But the answer came from God himself.

And if you’ve read Scripture long enough, you’ll recognize this pattern. From Genesis onward, God’s people and God’s land are deeply connected. In the beginning, God gave Adam and Eve a garden full of harmony and abundance. But when they sinned, they were exiled, and the land was cursed. In Exodus, God rescues his people from slavery and brings them to a new land flowing with milk and honey. Yet again, sin leads to exile, destruction, and foreign domination. By Joel’s time, even though the people have returned from Babylon, the land is still groaning and the people are still under judgment. The Day of the LORD is both past and present: famine grips the fields, and enemies still rule. But in the midst of this, God declares, “Behold! I am sending”—sending blessing, sending life, sending the very things that judgment had taken away. Why? Because he is a God “abounding in steadfast love.” The people had not kept the covenant. But God answers as if they had. That’s grace.

Spend any time around my kids, and you’ll eventually hear one yell, “That’s mine! Give it back!” You’ve probably seen that in your own life—when something rightfully yours is taken from you.  But here’s the difference: nothing is really ours. Not in the way that everything truly belongs to God. Our anger is often selfish. His jealousy is holy. His love is unstoppable.  God was right to punish Judah—by locusts, by drought, by invading armies. But he had pity. And that changes everything. In the same way, God sees your sins—every one you remember, and all the ones you don’t. He judges you as guilty. But then, in mercy, he steps down from his judicial seat. He answers his own judgment with compassion.

What does judgment look like in your life?  Shame from your past decisions. Emptiness from an addiction. Longing for broken relationships to not be so broken.  Since the exile of Adam and Eve, it’s the ache of knowing things are not the way they should be. But then the LORD answered and said, “Behold,” and sent you blessings anyway. Some of you are still waiting on God, but look at what he’s already sent: the warmth of the sun, the beating of your heart, the daily bread on your table. All gifts, all undeserved. But more than that—what has he sent you personally, to show you his compassion? Look at those gifts, and be glad. 

I realize that may be harder for some of you who are burdened with shame—sins you can’t shake, families that are fractured, you have grief too deep for words. It’s hard to ignore–because of what has happened to you, yet still we often bring it on ourselves. The judgment means you deserve reproach. But then the LORD answered, because he is jealous for you, he has pity on you, and he promises: You will not be a reproach forever. His land and his people belong to him—and he will not abandon what is his. So be glad. Because the Judge has answered his own judgment. Let’s now look closely at how exactly he does that.

God’s creation restored (v. 20-22)

To begin, the LORD promises to clear the land of the locusts. He will remove the “northerner”—those destructive forces, likely a symbol of a vast and terrifying army, that devastated the land under his judgment. Scholars debate whether this refers to literal insects or invading powers, but one thing is for sure: God will cast them into a barren and desolate place where they will wither away. Their destruction is total. Though their swarms once “rose” in power, what now rises is only the stench of their death. God sends them into the eastern sea and the western sea—which meant they were completely undone, their threat completely erased. This imagery intentionally recalls the Exodus: just as the LORD once sent locusts to humble Egypt, and later drowned Pharaoh’s army in the Red Sea, so now he acts again to publicly remove the threat of destruction. This is the first step in God’s restoring work—he answers his judgment by removing the judgment itself.

And what then should the land and the animals do? Fear not. Be glad and rejoice. Because the LORD has done great things—great things worth rejoicing over! He has not only taken away the destruction but has begun to reverse it. The pastures, once scorched by fire (1:18), are now green again. The Hebrew word for “green” used here in verse 22 is the same word used in Genesis to describe the lush beauty of Eden. The reversal is profound. Trees, vegetation, fruit, and vines now yield in abundance. It is a complete undoing of what Joel described earlier when “all the trees of the field are dried up” (1:12). Where there was mourning, now there is life. Where creation groaned under judgment, now it sings in response to mercy. Joel had said in chapter 1, “Is not the food cut off before our eyes, joy and gladness from the house of our God?”  That loss of joy wasn’t only felt by the people—it was echoed in the natural world. All creation felt the weight of judgment. But now, all creation is called to rejoice. Because God, in his mercy, is not only redeeming souls—he is redeeming the soil.

From the very beginning, humanity’s sin didn’t just corrupt people—it cursed the land and the beasts. But now, the greatness of the LORD’s restoration surpasses the greatness of the locust plague. Thorns and splinters are replaced by figs and grapes. God is jealous for his land and answers the curse of the fall with flourishing. Paul tells us in Romans 8 that the creation itself is groaning, longing to be set free from its bondage to decay. What Joel gives us here is a foretaste—a glimpse of the freedom that creation waits for. The revelation of God’s people leads to the renewal of the land. People and land are inseparably linked: we rely on the land for nourishment, and the land reflects our spiritual condition. Yet ultimately, both belong to the LORD. And because they are his, he will restore them.

I mentioned before how many great stories end—“happily ever after” isn’t just resolution for the characters, but often it includes the world around them being made new. I have 3 of my favorite classics to make this point here.  I’m hoping you can picture at least one of them.  At the start of Star Wars (the original trilogy of course), one of the first scenes takes place in the desert wasteland of Tatooine. By the end of Return of the Jedi (spoiler alert), the whole galaxy rejoices with the main characters in the forest of Endor, surrounded by trees, teeming with gladness. In “The Lion King,” Simba returns to challenge Scar, whose oppressive rule has turned the lush pridelands into a dismal graveyard with no more food.  After the epic duel, Simba ascends Pride Rock where his kingly roar brings rain, hope, and renews the land with life.  In one of my favorite moments from “The Lord of the Rings,”  the evil Saruman had established a stronghold at Isengard, where forests were destroyed, where he’s building machines of destruction.  It seems like his power is getting too great for our heroes and hope is fading. But in one grand moment, the trees rise up, they fight back, the river floods, and the evil land is washed clean.  That’s an echo of what Joel tells the land to do: Rejoice! Be glad! Creation itself joins in the joy of restoration.

Even the most epic sci-fi or fantasy stories are only shadows of what God is doing. They are fiction, but they point to something true. Because what Joel proclaims is not fiction. It’s the real, unstoppable plan of the LORD. He is the Creator—and he will restore his creation for his own glory. Today, we look around and see a world breaking under the weight of human sin. Climate change brings droughts and floods. Deforestation and pollution destroy habitats on land and in the ocean.  Entire species vanish.  Animal cruelty has become normalized. It feels hopeless. We are certainly responsible and should do what we can to steward the land and its resources. But our hope does not rest in our efforts alone. Fear not—God will restore creation, because it belongs to him.

That may be hard to believe when you see what’s happening in the world. Nations go to war over land—like Israel and Palestine, while famine strikes Gaza.  In our own country, land is central to debates over immigration and security. Floods have taken the lives of fellow believers, making onlookers ask “Where is your God?” In our own city, the streets are marked by fear, violence, and abandonment. Some of you are afraid even to visit family because of deep wounds, broken trust, and unresolved grief. Perhaps even your own mind is void of life, attacked by depression or anxiety.  The land is cursed. All creation is in decay. But fear not—God has answered, and he will restore creation because it is his. He will not only remove the destruction, suffering, and fear—he will replace them with abundant pasture and fruitful trees. And more: he will restore creation by restoring his people. And in that renewal, they will be truly satisfied.

God’s people satisfied (v. 23-27)

After addressing the land and the beasts of the field, the LORD now speaks directly to the children of Zion—his people. And the command is unmistakable: “Be glad and rejoice.” Why? Because the LORD has not only promised restoration—he has already begun to give it. He has sent the rain. Not just as a weather pattern, but as a sign of covenant mercy—for your vindication. The rain is the climax of hope for a land ruined by famine. Rain means life. And no human can summon it; only God can pour it down in abundance. Both the early autumn rain that prepares the soil for planting, and the late spring rain that increases the harvest—both come from his hand. Rain in Judah’s condition was nothing less than a declaration that God had not abandoned them. So be glad! Rejoice!

And the result? Verse 24: “The threshing floors shall be full of grain, the vats shall overflow with wine and oil.” The people had gone from total famine in Chapter 1 to overflowing abundance in Chapter 2. Locusts had stripped everything bare, and rightly so—judgment had come for their sin. But now, God answers his own judgment with overflowing grace. Where sin abounded, grace superabounded. Still, we must not miss the process. The leap from rain to harvest is quick in the text, but long in real life. Have you ever tried to grow a single tomato? It takes time. Trust. Patience. God’s people had to believe in the promise of rain long before they saw the grain. And to them—in the middle of the wait—God speaks a staggering word of hope: “I will restore to you the years the locust has eaten.”

Don’t skip past the word “years.” The locust plague wasn’t a passing hardship. It lingered. Year after year, loss piled on loss. Grief turned to despair. And those years couldn’t be undone. But God promises something better: not reversal, but redemption. He will make it as though nothing had been lost. That is the scale of his mercy.

And perhaps most surprising of all—God calls the locusts “my great army, which I sent among you.” In their despair, God’s people may have thought they were abandoned. But the LORD had never left. He was always in control. Even the judgment came from his hand. The pain they endured, the shame they carried, the hunger they felt—all of it was under his sovereign rule. Everyone suffered—rich and poor, young and old. Together, they cried out: “Spare your people, O LORD!” The nations mocked them: “Where is your God?” But in verses 26 and 27, God responds with unwavering clarity: “I am in your midst. I am the LORD your God. You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied.” The land, the years, the reputation, the joy—they were all lost. But God restores every one of them. He deals wondrously with his people. And the result? Satisfaction. Not mere survival—abundance. His people shall never again be put to shame.

And when you are satisfied, what comes naturally? Gladness. Joy. When the threshing floor is full of grain, when the wine is poured, gladness and joy rises with it. You know the feeling: when you’re hangry and finally get to eat, when a long day ends in laughter around a table with friends. Satisfaction is physical, emotional, and spiritual. But we must not forget where it comes from. We’re so quick to enjoy the meal and forget the God who gave it. I’ll be first to admit that I can look at his provision of rain and complain because I wanted to enjoy sunshine. We’re like a child crying for a toy while standing in a house full of warmth, food, and love from the Father.

To a degree, our longing makes sense. Like Israel, we are in exile. This world is not our true home. And so much of our life feels out of control. But if we can see that the LORD is in our midst, then we can also see this: the same God who sent the locusts also sent the rain, the grain, the wine, the oil. He is sovereign over the destruction and over the restoration. Whatever years you lost—whether to sin, sorrow, addiction, fear, or grief—he knows. He ordained them. And he is restoring them—not by rewinding the clock, but by redeeming your story. Maybe you feel like you’re still living in the famine. Still waiting. Still longing. But hear this: God is already at work in your life. He has dealt wondrously with you. Your satisfaction is not something you have to manufacture—it is the natural overflow of what God has done. So let us help each other see the rain and the grain, the loss and the restoration—and remind one another what we are called to do: be glad, rejoice, and be satisfied in the LORD.

Yet as I say all this, I know that within the next 24 hours, I may not be glad—and maybe you won’t either. Just like that, we fail to obey this command of God. Deuteronomy 11:13–15 says, “If you obey God’s commands, to love the LORD your God with all your heart and soul, he will give you rain for your land to gather grain, wine, and oil.” But wait—wasn’t this whole message about how God has given the rain? How is it that we disobey, yet he still provides? That’s the mystery of grace. Ever since Adam and Eve, we have broken his commands, and like them, we carry shame and curse. Joel’s original audience knew this deeply. And centuries later, under the rule of mighty Rome, God’s people were still living under that weight. But then, the LORD answered again—not with rain, but with a promise. He said to a young woman: “Do not be afraid… you will conceive and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus.”

God sent Jesus so his people would know that he is truly in their midst—because Jesus is God in the flesh. While he walked this earth, he fed thousands with five loaves of grain and turned water into the best wine. Creation obeyed him—but his people did not. They crucified him. The very one who formed the land and trees on the third day of creation would later kneel in a garden, full of dread, his sweat falling like blood onto the soil he made. In just thirty-three years, it seemed like the locusts had devoured the life of the eternal Son of God. But Jesus endured the cross and despised the shame—for the gladness and joy set before him. He was the only one who perfectly fulfilled the covenant of Deuteronomy, yet took upon himself all the curses, all the punishment, all the shame. God’s judgment was answered by the cross, and by it the abundant rain of mercy fell on you.  How? Because on the third day of death, Jesus rose from the dead, conquering the ultimate judgment of sin—death. And by his resurrection, God began the restoration of all creation—because it all belongs to him: the land, the trees, the animals, and most especially, you.

The same God who ordained the cross has also ordained your suffering—and your salvation. If you trust in Jesus, he has removed your sin and cast it far away. Just as he sent the locusts, he removed them. Just as he brought judgment, he brought mercy. In theological terms, this is the expiation of sin—your guilt is gone. That alone is cause for gladness! But God went further. He didn’t just cancel your debt. He restored what was lost—not by rewinding time, but by redeeming it. As Joel says, the threshing floors will overflow with grain, and the vats with wine and oil. That means our spiritual account isn’t just at zero—it’s overflowing. In Christ, we’re not just forgiven; we are filled. This is what Scripture calls propitiation—not only is God’s wrath turned away, but his favor is poured out. As 1 John 4:10 declares, “In this is love—not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” In Christ, we have all we need to know God and enjoy him forever. What greater reason could we have to rejoice? He bore our shame so we could be satisfied. He has surely dealt wondrously with us. So now, like Paul, we can say with confidence: “I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes.”

So be glad, because God has done great things. Be satisfied in the story he’s writing for your life. That longing for a “happily ever after” isn’t just wishful thinking—it’s a promise. The cross answered God’s judgment. The resurrection began the restoration of creation. And the presence of God will fully satisfy his people. If we kept reading Joel 2, we’d see that promise fulfilled: “I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh.” That promise came true in Acts, when Jesus’ disciples received the Holy Spirit. Now, God’s land isn’t a plot of soil—it’s his people. The church. You who trust in Christ. So let’s be glad, because in a few moments, we will eat grain (the bread) and drink wine (the juice)—signs of Christ’s body and blood—given so that we would be satisfied.

And if you’re not yet a part of this story, hear this: it’s not a fairy tale. The King of creation really died and really rose again to answer his own judgment—so you could eat and drink with joy. Come to him. Trust him as the one who has done great things for you. He alone can restore the years the locusts have eaten. He alone can satisfy your soul. He alone can remove your shame. Come to Christ—and find that your sin is forgiven, your shame is covered, and your life is restored forever. He has surely done great things for us. Let us praise the name of the LORD—the author of our story–because our story doesn’t end in shame or famine or sorrow. It begins with Jesus. And in him, we will live happily ever after.