February 5, 2006 Des Moines

TEXT: Isaiah 40:21-31

 

Winged Living

 

Years ago, while traveling with my high school youth group to a handbell convention in Utah, we camped overnight in Flagstaff, AZ.  It was an ordinary enough evening – dinner prepared, tents staked and sleeping bags unrolled.  The morning, however, was paralyzing – the coldest I had ever felt before moving to Iowa.  When the sun rose and the showers called from the other side of the campground, I forcibly repressed and ignored the morning’s duties.  Nothing was worth the stultifying prospects of disentombing myself from the relative warmth that gripped me into immobility. I couldn’t – I wouldn’t – move. 

            In Flagstaff, of course, it was the altitude talking, but it’s not always the climate that breeds our inertia.  Sometimes, as we know, the paralyzing cold is inside rather than out.  Many have known the frozen stall of depression in which the chair has long since lost its comfort, but nothing seems strong enough to dislodge us from it; nothing capable of breaking the endless stare into the blackness of the day.  Sooner or later, most know the leaden weight of grief or disappointment that simply cannot find the incentive for trying again, or redesigning life in the absence of one we had loved.  

            It is the heart’s fatigue imposed on the rest of the body – life cocooned in a fortress of sheltering warmth – but only marginally so.  Life as satisfying as watered Cream of Wheat; but at least you don’t feel so hungry.  Life, in all its immensity; volition, in all its disassembled muddle; hope in all its distant consummation seem too crushingly large to lift, let alone to move or impact.  And so frozen in a sleeping bag on the periphery of life, we huddle against the chill, brace ourselves for more, and clutchingly settle for less.

            It was the kind of paralysis known by the Israelites in the years of exile and defeat.  Not only were many of the people not where they wanted to be; not only had their political and cultural world been crushed like a pecan beneath a wheel.  Acute, as well, was a kind of Vertigo of the spirit in which everything they thought they knew, everything they thought they understood, everything they heretofore had trusted was upended, dismembered, and dizzied. 

“Where is God?” 

“Doesn’t God care?”

“Can’t God do anything that matters, and if so, why isn’t it happening?”

Enter the prophet Isaiah.  Scholars discern a voice in this morning’s reading different from the author of the first 39 or so chapters.  If that earlier prophet warned the people of impending calamity, this “second Isaiah” reflects theologically on the calamity that has already taken place.  If the “first Isaiah’s” task was hard enough – trying to bend the national will and direction in a holier direction, his successor had no easier an assignment:  re-lighting the fire of faith and vision that bitter experience had extinguished and pain-filled tears had damped.  Demoralized, depressed and embittered, the only thing they now believed was that they didn’t know what to believe. 

The verses we have read this morning represent Isaiah’s disputation.  It is his intent to argue with the doubts and hesitations that “impede an exiled people’s embracing the message of God’s imminent entry into their lives to restore their community to integrity in its homeland.”[1] 

“So,” the Israelites insisted, “how are we supposed to believe that God can accomplish any kind of meaningful deliverance, given the kind of opposition we have faced?  Given the complexity of the cosmos and all its celestial hosts, can we really believe that one God controls our destiny?”[2]

            They aren’t merely historical or academic questions.  For example, if any President ever dared to give an honest assessment of the “State of the Union”, my sense is that it would look and sound quite different from the spinning gyre of political huckstering and ominous safariing into the land of paper tigers and straw wolves that we have been served up by Chief Executives in recent decades.   The truth is a violent collision of great progress, innovation, humanitarianism and wealth on the one hand, and great poverty, greed, judgmentalism and spiritual confusion and hunger on the other.  Humankind has accomplished incredible things since feeling the breath of God filling our lungs – and perpetrated incredible evil almost simultaneously. 

The civil rights movement has taken gigantic strides on behalf of certain slices of our human community, but instead of eradicating prejudice as the disease that it is, we have only reallocated it to the detriment of another.  Creative ingenuity and the market economy have put at our fingertips electronic marvels and the world’s unfolding intelligence, at the same time that the gap between rich and poor has widened to a chasm, and privations our minds had confined to the other side of the globe are manifest in our own neighborhoods and towns. 

It is shameful how many among us can’t financially reach a doctor or bring home a prescription.  It’s embarrassing how many children don’t know how to read – or don’t have attentive enough parents to help them learn.  It’s frightening how militantly extreme some bigotries have become.  It’s haunting how superficial is our knowledge of one another.

We are mighty and strong, but we are vulnerably weak.  We are intellectually advanced and forever pushing the envelope of what is imaginatively possible, but all the while we are spiritually lost and socially infantile.  After all this time, after all we have invented, after everywhere we’ve gone – to the moon and beyond and safely back home again – we still don’t know how to live together; still don’t know how to live with ourselves.  We’ve learned well how to ask how we might accomplish something, but have forgotten how to ask whether or not we should.

            All our thrashing has done little more than dig for ourselves a deeper hole.  And it is tempting, sometimes, when the gravity of it all – the despondent immensity of it all – settles upon us to simply stay there:  in the hole.

            Into the numb of this morass, the prophet raises his voice to shake us from our sleep.  A word of disclaimer:  if you are on top of your game, dancing on your successes and making snow-angels in the froth of the heavy cream in which you are floating – if you have never been mired in the spiritual lethargy of the soul’s dark night and everything is working in your favor – then you probably can’t even hear what the prophet is saying.  This is not a passage for those who are rolling merrily down the stream.  But for those who are weary, feeling lost and abandoned, fearful and helpless and cold, Isaiah offers an invigorating breeze.

“Have you not known,” he rhetorically asks the Hebrews – knowing full well that the answer is “yes.”  Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning,” the prophet invites his hearers to recall. “The Lord is the one who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers.  The Lord is the one who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to live in.  Look at the stars. Who created them all? Surely it is God,” asserts Isaiah.  “Surely it is God who brings out their host and numbers them, calling them all by name.  In fact, it is because of God’s strength and might that not one is missing.

In light of all that, continues the prophet, “Tell me why it is that you believe God has forgotten you.  Tell me why it is you think God now inept or aloof or perhaps worst of all, impotent.  You’ve concluded in your misery that all creation must be miserable as well – the earth and the sky and the One whose word caused it all to be.” 

“Listen,” says Isaiah, “and hear the good news.  Hear it as the song of life it has the power to be.  Hear it, and hum it, and let it stir dance to your feet:  the Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. God does not faint or grow weary; God’s understanding is unsearchable.  God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

Such are the words of the prophet.  As such, so have they come to us as the very words of the Lord.  Can it not, then, be asked of us, when we are tempted to despair and settle for little – or less – “Have you not known? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning? Have you not understood from the foundations of the earth?”  Buoyed and blown by the gracious and mighty breath of God,

we

can

fly.



[1] Paul Hanson, Isaiah 40-66, Interpretation:  A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, p. 26.

[2] Cf. Hanson p. 26