I’ve always loved the call of Isaiah. It has so much grandeur with God seated on his throne, so much detail with the hem of God’s robe filling the temple. When the seraphim glorify God with the resounding Sanctus (“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts”), incense fills the air and everything shakes like it’s all going to come roaring down.
Isaiah is scared out of his wits, of course. He knows he’s seen too much, and can only think about how unworthy he is to be there. He remembers when the evil thoughts of his heart became words in his mouth. He’s a man of unclean lips. Rather too helpfully, one of the seraphim picks up a live coal from the altar, so red-hot he has to carry it with tongs, and touches that unclean mouth. That’ll sear away those sins! So when God issues an invitation – “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” – Isaiah can now utter the classic words of humble submission, through blistered lips: “Here am I; send me!”
The apostle Paul never got his lips burned. Yet he never quite got over the fact that he had missed the boat for so many years. All of this Jesus stuff had happened while he was in Pharisee U, and by the time he got his diploma he was ready to haul every one of those Christian misfits off to prison. God had a different idea for him, however, and it took a voice from heaven and a few days of blindness for Paul to get the point. After that there were never enough days for all of the missionary work he wanted to do, so he thought of himself as one untimely born, the last of the last to whom the risen Jesus had appeared.
Simon Peter and his buddies got burned figuratively, toiling all night and coming up with nothing. All they had in their fishing nets was muck and seaweed, and now they had to put off sleep in order to wash those nets. While they were hard at work, the wandering preacher who had healed Simon’s mother-in-law showed up again. He commandeered the boats for a better view of his congregation from out on the water. So Simon wearily obliged and took him out.
After Jesus was done preaching, he told Simon to drop the nets again. Simon protested. He was bone-weary, and didn’t want more muck on those clean nets. But then he remembered his mother-in-law, and did what he was told. This time when he pulled the nets in, there were so many fish in them that the nets began to break. Wide-eyed and fully awake now, he called James and John, his partners, to bring their boat. The fish filled both boats and then some, and they began to sink. Now Simon was scared out of his wits. He, too, knew of his sins. But instead of getting hot coals, Jesus gave him reassurance: “Don’t be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” They were so impressed that when they got back to shore, they left their boats and nets and fish behind and followed Jesus.
Blistered lips, untimely births, sinking ships. Does it take something that spectacular for God to get our attention? Unfortunately, it sometimes does. God often shows up when least expected. And when God does show up in all of God’s glory, it is overwhelming. But for Isaiah, Paul, and Simon – and for us – glory is tempered with grace: grace that forgives sins, that builds faith, that gives purpose to life. And in response to that grace, our only faithful response is Isaiah’s: “Here am I; send me.”
Epiphany 5: Isaiah 6:1-8; Psalm 138; 1 Corinthians 15:1-11; Luke 5:1-11.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
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3 comments:
I have no problem with other people's hearing the voice of God -- at least if it is not a scam or used for wrongful purrposes.
My concern is the opposite: what if we don't think we hear God's voice, or don't know how to listen for or find God's wishes for us in other ways?
Of course we have been given a moral compass in the Bible, and particularly in the teaching of Jesus in the New Testament. But what if our need for guidance involves matters that are not normally considered to involve a moral question, but are of great importance to our lives -- such as education, vocation, choice of employment, church to join, marriage, where to live or other such questions that make such a difference to us? Are we to assume that God is indifferent to our actions here?
We're told that we may find God's direction in other people, but what does that mean? We need to explore how we are to listen for and find God's direction.
Are we to assume that, if
we earnestly pray for guidance,
what we ultimately do is what is wanted even if we hear no voice or consciously experiace any direction?
I share Cliff's questions. My partial answer comes from silent prayer. When I have, in the past. devoted myself to the discipline of silent prayer, I have attributed the clarity (not to mention the calm) to God. Goodness knows, I'd rather God sent me letter with instructions, or support, or guidance. I figure that's what the people around me provide, though, and why I must pay attention to that small inner voice that drives me to offer support to others (and hopefully not too much unasked for advice!).
But here's my question to add to Cliff's: I wonder if sin ever occurs because people try to get God's attention--and then, hearing nothing, they try harder.
Stacy, I think you have part of the answer to Cliff’s question. Silent or wordless prayer, in whatever form, allows all of the many “voices” within us to quiet down, until the still, small voice of God can emerge from the silence. I like the idea that God is always speaking to us in prayer; our job is to stop and listen.
Moral questions are the most obvious ones to take to prayer, but if we believe that God is active in our lives, other decisions that matter should also be prayed over. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t use other methods as well. When I was trying to figure out how to finish a seminary degree while teaching full-time, I had to make a list of all the possibilities with their positives and negatives. It allowed me to bring some order to chaos, calming me down enough to be able to pray about it. Then when I met the dean of Seabury-Western, I could clearly explain the hurdles that were left. He was able to remove a few of them, and I finished my studies there.
That illustrates the role other people play. Sometimes they confirm or challenge what sounds to us like the voice of God. Sometimes they suggest something we haven’t considered, becoming God’s voice to us. The Bible talks about “testing the spirits,” recognizing that not all voices come from God. It is the fruit of a spirit that reveals it source: does it make us more Christ-like, more in love with God and neighbor? Does it speak to our deepest needs (not wants)?
It has not been my experience that one sins to get God’s attention, although from a parental analogy, I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility. It seems to me that if one tries harder, it is because one is listening to the wrong spirit – which may be suggesting that God didn’t hear yet, so sin some more. I tend to interpret the “God is silent” passages in the Bible as meaning that our sin has separated us from God so that we are deaf, rather like the “selective hearing” one finds in children (and some spouses!).
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